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The Scarlet Thread Irregulars (Serial Story) — Chapter 9

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 9: My team comes face to face with a villain

Thursday the 12th of October, 2006 – Shields Crossing, Ontario

They called him Galaus the Slayer. Might sound a little melodramatic but it was pretty fair for having killed half the council in the late nineteenth century.

There was a large sign at the edge of his property that read, “Stay the F out.” It was underlined by a black arming sword that looked a lot like mine.

Sylvie chuckled and said, “Really? The big bad slayer couldn’t write the whole word?”

The trees were tightly packed, but once we passed the sign,, there was a perfectly round clearing with a little white house in the centre. The clearing was at least half a kilometre in diameter. “Stay on the road,” I told the others as we walked up to the house, “I’d be ready to bet there are traps in the grass areas.”

“That’s pretty harsh,” Grant said, moving more into the centre of the road.

“Do you blame the man? He’s been hunted by Gatekeepers for over a hundred years,” Ursula added.

“That means he’s seen us coming already and he’s overly cautious. We should be ready to protect ourselves,” Sylvie said while zipping up her jacket and tapping the zipper three times. I assumed her fiancée had put some sort of protective magic on it.

“Keep your swords sheathed,” I ordered as we got half way to the little house. “We don’t w—” A streak of dark light flew toward me and suddenly an onyx black sword was being held to my neck. 

A man that looked like he was in his nineties but moved like he was in his twenties stood in front of me, holding the sword in one hand and a sawed-off shotgun in the other. “I thought the council had finally given up trying to kill me.” Despite living in the woods, he wore a three piece charcoal suit.

“We’re not here to kill you. We’re here to ask you for help.”

He laughed and replied, “You’re either desperate or stupid.”

“Oh he’s definitely both sir,” Sylvie quipped. Her posture was relaxed but it was a little forced. I knew her well enough that she was calculating the risks he posed and what she needed to do to neutralize him as a threat. 

“Ha!” he said and added, “Family huh? Interesting. Show me your swords.” His sword and gun didn’t waver. The group all summoned their swords and he relaxed a little. “What about you?” He punctuated the question with his sword.

I summoned my sword in reverse grip, planting its tip in the gravel road and leaning on it.

The man nodded and asked, “Who was your master?”

The rest of the group pointed at me and I sighed. If Lance was a traitor, he’d either framed or tried to kill him and I really didn’t want to say his name. “Please don’t puncture me but my master was Lance.”

“He taught a blackblade? I’m surprised. You must have been very trusting.” He brought his sword and gun down. “What do you want from an old, tired man?” He turned around and started walking to the house.

I took that as an invitation to follow and answered his question, “The Gatekeepers have made a name for themselves as being honourable. I had no reason to doubt him.”

“Sounds like you needed to believe you were chosen to do good.” He paused and took a deep, shaky breath before continuing, “I was the same way at your age. The Gatekeepers were the incorruptible knights. They represented all that was good and trustworthy. But not all of us liked following a strict moral code.

“War was brewing and we knew it was going to be massive. After the Magical community got together and voted to stay neutral, there was a lot of trouble. The wizards asked us to act as peace keepers. The Gatekeeper council decided to not interfere in the war but still keep helping individuals who needed it.

“The goldblades didn’t agree; they thought that we could do more good fighting the war than staying out of it. Lance and the others attacked the council and despite my best attempts I wasn’t able to save them.”

“That’s quite a story,” Sylvie said, looking not the least impressed. She glared at him, obviously waiting for more information.

Turning around to face me, the man said, “You have a lippy one. You’ll have to train some respect into her.”

“Never talk about one of my knights like that again,” I said growling a little. I was going to follow it up with something devastatingly clever but got distracted.

We were close to the house now and something smelled off. I should be smelling grass, forest, and some woodsmoke from the house, but instead I was smelling sulfur and rotten eggs.

I stopped moving and held my hand up in a fist to tell the others to do the same.

“Sylvie, Grant, and Ursula, could you please take out your swords?”

The moment the rainbow swords appeared, the environment around us changed. The perfectly manicured lawn became marshy wetlands, the small house turned into a familiar mansion, and the old man became Luc. 

“Oh darn, I almost had you.” He didn’t seem all that surprised. “It’s a matter of time. You’ll come begging me to help you in chapter eleven.”

“What did you do with Galaus?” I asked, ignoring his words.

The devil smiled widely and replied, “That’s the great part. I didn’t do anything. I just tricked your GPS.” To Sylvie, he asked, “When did you know?”

She replied, “Your tongue touches your front teeth after you lie. Your suit is too modern. A hundred year old knight would wear something more vintage.”

“I knew I should have gone with tails.” Luc snapped his fingers in mock disappointment.

Sylvie shook her head and said, “To be more authentic, I’d go with a long black double-breasted coat, a black vest, and a white dress shirt with a bow tie. Don’t forget the bowler hat.”

“That’s awfully specific, wh—” Luc was cut off by a dark blade piercing his throat. Behind him, having appeared without warning, was a large, sixty year old man sporting a bright orange handlebar moustache and dressed exactly as Sylvie had described.

Luc’s body turned to black smoke and floated into the mansion as both disappeared, leaving us facing the newcomer whose blade was now pointed toward me.

With a heavy Scottish accent, the man said, “Pie said you might need some help.”

Read Chapter 10

While you wait for the next chapter, check out the previous serial stories:

The Scarlet Thread Irregulars (Serial Story) — Chapter 8

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 8: My team talks while eating pie and talking about sword colours

Thursday the 12th of October, 2006 – Shields Crossing, Ontario

We once again sat at the Pie’s Shop. 

A thin girl with curly brown hair, smiled showing her braces, and said, “What can I get you?” 

We ordered and she frantically scribbled on her pad of paper. She repeated our order and I asked, “Where’s Pie?”

“Grannie’s in the back pretending she isn’t watching me. I’m Piper the third and I’m eleven.” She sounded proud and ran off to the kitchen. She got the orders right but the people wrong. When she left after giving us our orders, we all switched.

With no one in the store but us and the kid in the back, I said, “Okay, what do we know?”

“Someone is messing with the Aether in this town and they’re not happy we’re here,” Grant said.

“Maybe it’s time to contact the council?” Ursula asked. I knew she was scared because she hated the council, and said they freaked her out.

The rest looked at me expectantly. I nodded and said, “Fine. I’ll call Lance.” I took out my phone and called my former master. “Hey Lance. I have a problem I need your help with.”

“You need help?” I could hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m shocked. What’s the issue?”

I explained to him the whole thing and then asked, “Does this fit any previous patterns?”

After a prolonged silence he said, “Sounds like a rogue wizard to me. I’ll contact the Wizard’s Council. You and your team stand down. I’ve heard of a disturbance in Hearst, head up there. Remember you’re on thin ice, don’t mess this up.” He hung up.

“He’s an ass,” Sylvie said. The rest of them nodded. 

“He’s in charge of the entire east coast.”

“Still a dick,” added Ursula. 

I tried to take a drink from my coffee but it was empty. Finally, I said, “He told us to head out.” When everyone looked disappointed, I added, “Too bad that the van was destroyed and we’re having trouble getting another one.” 

Sylvie was the first to understand. “Yeah, and a small town like this, it could take a few days.”

“We could rent two cars,” suggested Clifford. A stern glance from Ursula made him rethink, and he tapped his nose. “Oh. Right.” 

“Do you really think he’ll call the Wizard’s Council?” Grant asked. 

“Only one way to find out.” Again I pulled out my phone and dialled an old friend.

“Alfy! How are you? Is this business, pleasure, or Annabel?” Jack’s slight British accent was thicker when he was teasing. 

“Business, unfortunately. Do you know if any of the Gatekeepers called the Council about something happening in Shields Crossing?”

“You should call her. No. Nothing yet. Do you need my help? Or do you want to me call if I get the call?” I once again explained the whole thing. He didn’t hesitate to say, “Sounds like an artificer or summoner. I haven’t gotten word of anyone like that. Do you want me to come up there? It’s only a few hours.”

“No thank you. Just call if you hear anything. I’m starting to think I know what’s going on.”

Sylvie swore and then swore again. We heard giggles from the kitchen and Sylvie shouted, “Sorry!” When everyone seemed confused, she explained, “Lance is either our problem or he’s covering for them.”

Everyone else protested but eventually came to the same conclusion.

“Lance trained me, he taught me everything I know about the Gatekeepers. That means everything you know. We need to find another senior knight—”

“Not a council member,” interrupted Sylvie. “We need someone who’s neutral.”

I nodded and was going to ask where we could find someone, when Pie walked in and said, “My hearing is still very good. Did you need another Gatekeeper?”

“Yes. Preferably someone not part of the council.”

“I know just who you need. Galaus,” she said with a small smirk.

The name sounded familiar and I almost gasped when I realized who he was. “The traitor?”

“Bah,” she said and moved her hands like she was trying to fan away a bad smell. “He’s a sweetheart and his reputation isn’t deserved.”

“Lance told me that when he was a new recruit, his master had become jealous of his golden sword and tried to kill him. Something that’s unfortunately common with black-blades.” I looked down and finished with, “He almost succeeded. Apparently, he took out half the council elders before he disappeared.”

“When was this?” Sylvie asked.

“Sometime in the eighties.” I replied.

Pie tsked and added, “The eighteen eighties, dears. Although how that’s possible is beyond me.” Her tone and wink made it clear that she fully understood.

“We’re going to live past a hundred?” Grant asked, looking excited.

I sighed and said, “Some of us, yes. Knights with silver blades can live a few decades longer than normal humans. The others live longer, with the gold living the longest. No one on the council is under a hundred and they all look like they stopped aging in their forties. At least, that’s what Lance told me.”

“What’s everyone’s sword colour?” asked Sylvie.

We all put our swords on the table. Robin had a green blade, Grant and Ursula had rainbow, and Clifford had ruby.

“So we have gold for ruling class, rainbow for freedom knights, and black for sinful knights, but what are the others?”

“I’m a nature knight,” answered Robin. “We’re champions of the natural world, protecting it from the aether.”

“I’m a knight of safety. I protect those places that are sacred or safe,” Clifford said proudly.

I continued, “Each specialty comes with some extra powers. Ruby knights can inscribe protective runes in places that prevent the aether from leaking in, nature knights can heal nature or animals from magical harm.” I paused just to tease her before continuing, “Rainbow knights break mind-affecting spells simply by being in the same room, and gold can use aether like a wizard.”

“What about silver and black?” Sylvie asked, literally on the edge of her seat.

“Silver can heal and recharge from the things they banish and black can bolster everyone else’s powers around them.

She laughed and quipped, “Ah yes, helping your allies. That’s definitely the evil sword power.”

Read Chapter 9

While you wait for the next chapter, check out the previous serial stories:

The Scarlet Thread Irregulars (Serial Story) — Chapter 7

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Wednesday the 11th of October, 2006 – Shields Crossing, Ontario

Cartoon physics would have had them flying hood over tailpipe, but real world physics still seemed to be in effect. Popeye punched right through the hood of the van and his arm got stuck.

“Get out!” I shouted and everyone jumped out of the van. I was glad I got the extra insurance on the rental. It’s a no-brainer when fighting Aether-creatures.

Popeye picked up the van and tossed it into the forest with a crash of trees. “The boss wants to talk with ya,” he said.

“Ga Bort!” I shouted and pushed my will against him. He was an Aether-creature but he’d been made by a wizard, which meant he had some defences against us sending him back to the Aether.

The others understood and started to help. He was a strong construct, pun intended, and he was able to resist five trained knights. I was starting to feel my will weaken when I heard Sylvie shout, “Glannchient!” and her will was added to the pressure of ours. With an audible pop and sploosh, Popeye became an equal weight of Aethergoo. 

“Good job, group. Anyone’s cell working?” I asked as mine only reflected my face and wouldn’t turn on. 

Each of them said no until Sylvie. “Mine is fine. My fiancée made it. It’s water proof, magic proof, and can actually stop a bullet.” She stared blankly at the phone and then asked, “Who do I call? Normally with this kind of thing, I call you.”

I laughed and said, “Let’s just look at how far we are from town.” The thing about Ontario is once you start driving, if you’re not familiar with the area, distances and time become useless. It should be a twenty minute drive to our hotel from where we started but how far we’d gone and how that translates to distance is a magic beyond me.

She pulled up the DT Maps app and it showed we were a ten minute walk from our hotel on the edge of town. With the night having finally covered the world, we trudged back to civilization.

“Did the devil send Popeye?” Sylvie asked.

“I doubt it,” Grant replied. “He felt too put together to be a random Aether-creature but he also was too weak to be made by the Devil himself.”

“That was weak?” Sylvie’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out.

“Unfortunately, he was a well-made Aether-creature but he wasn’t sapient. Which means he shouldn’t have been able to fight back. Unless he was created by a wizard. Probably expecting him to face one or two Gatekeepers, not six.” I patted her shoulder. 

“Who then?”

“Same person who placed the Adlats and summoned the House of the Rising Sun,” I replied.

Looking expectant, Sylvie asked, “Who?”

“I have no clue.”

We walked in silence and as we approached the hotel I smirked and said, “Glannchient? Really? Every language in existence and you choose High-Pakahan?”

“Oh, leave me alone, it’s the only thing I could think of. At least it means, ‘to banish’. You literally say, ‘go away’.”

“Nerd,” I teased.

“Dork,” she rebutted.

We were all exhausted and the world didn’t seem to be imploding yet, so we separated into our hotel rooms. Ursula and Robin always stayed together. Robin and Grant had a hate-flirt relationship going and It was better to put them with an older and more level headed person. Clifford had taken to tutoring the younger man, whether he liked it or not, in business and real art.

I snored, so I got my own room. Also, I was in charge and didn’t want to deal with their bickering all night and day. Sylvie joined me in my room since she didn’t have one. She’d expected to go home by nightfall.

I managed to take off my coat and shoes but I fell asleep before I could do anything else. It had been a long day. 

The smell of coffee and grease woke me up. “Aarrggg,” I said.

Snickering, Sylvie said, “Articulate. I can really hear the Oxford accent there. This is why you get all the girls.”

I glared at her and took the breakfast and coffee she was offering. When I was finished, I looked at her and said, “How do you look perfectly put together? It’s…” I looked at my watch. “Six?” 

“I’m not new to the road life, cuz. My mom dragged us across the country. I learned how to look military clean before I was six. What’s your excuse?”

“My excuse is that I used more energy yesterday than I ever have and it was just a bunch of near misses. I have no idea what or who we’re up against.” I didn’t like admitting it.

Silvie made a face as she sipped from her cup, “The Dancing Goat has really spoiled cheap coffee for me.” She paused and asked, “Don’t you, I mean, we, have a chain of command?”

“Each knight is apprenticed to someone until they’re ready. Then they wander the world trying to help the helpless and all that. Once they’ve completed a few quests, they apply to be posted somewhere and the council posts them where they are most needed.”

She swore, “That sounds like a military version of a pyramid scheme. Who decides the council?”

“They’re appointed when their swords turn to gold,” I replied.

“Hum… Who gives the swords?”

I shrugged. “There are a lot of ideas but no one really knows.”

She summoned her sword and I nodded. It took Clifford a week before he could do it consistently.

Looking at the long thin blade, she asked, “Why is it rainbow coloured.” She was right, the metal looked like it was forged in multicoloured waves.

“Rainbow is associated with knights that are ideologically linked with protecting freedom.”

Dismissing the sword, she said, “We’re colour coded?”

“Not really. Council members are gold, freedom knights are rainbow, and most other knights are silver.”

“And what about you? What colour is your blade?” she asked. She might have seen it but it was in a stressful situation.

I summoned the blade. It was pure black with dark grey swirls that glowed a gentle light. “It’s black. It’s for the knights that have sins to atone for basically, I’m on divine probation.”

Read Chapter 8

While you wait for the next chapter, check out the previous serial stories:

The Scarlet Thread Irregulars (Serial Story) — Chapter 6

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 6: My team dances with the devil

Wednesday the 11th of October, 2006 – Shields Crossing, Ontario

“In my defence, in movies, bottles break really easily,” I said feeling sheepish. The bottle just sort of lay there at his feet.

“Did you really think a little holy water would stop the devil?” he asked incredulously. Then he picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cover. An extremely strong smell of olive oil, peppermint, and rosemary permeated the air. What couldn’t be smelled was the purified salt and iron. He laughed and said, “I am not a salad.”

“Oh, it wasn’t for you,” I replied.

“Who—” He turned in time to see Sylvie’s fist.

“Me, you asshole,” she said to punctuate the hit. 

I heard his nose break. He dropped the mixture, splashing it on himself. Where the liquid hit him, he burst into flames. The same thing happened when it hit the floor.

For one triumphant moment, I thought we’d won. Then the fire petered out and the devil reappeared next to his own body. He slow-clapped to rub it in and said, “I’m impressed. Beside myself, really.” I ignored his pun. “What was in that?”

“Extra virgin olive oil from the same tree species as the cross of Christ, rosemary oil, peppermint oil, salt, and iron shavings. All of which is blessed by six different religious leaders,” I said with a sigh. It was a sort of catch all, it should slow down ghosts, demons, angels, undead, Fay, and most things considered evil in western mythology.

“Let’s talk business then.” Luc smiled, his mouth looking two sizes too big.

“You forget that you have six knights in front of you,” Clifford quipped and tried to summon his sword. It didn’t work. “Um. Maybe we can negotiate?”

To give the devil his due, he didn’t seem angry and just chuckled. “Enough silliness. Everyone sit down!” His words were a command with magic behind it. The table and chairs all moved to fulfil his will.

Killing him didn’t work. It must be the building that’s the source of the magic, not him, I said to my team in mindspeak. None of them replied.

“Good deduction,” Luc said. “Mindspeak doesn’t work here. Same as your weapons, and any real magic.” 

“What do you want?” Sylvie asked, looking ready to punch him again.

“It’s simple, I have something you want and you have something I want.”

“What is that? Our souls?” Sylvie asked sarcastically. When he didn’t correct her, she rolled her eyes and said, “I’m an atheist.”

“Then you’re trading something for nothing.” A flourish of his hand had a contract appear in front of her, along with a comically long feathered pen.

Scoffing, Sylvie replied, “My wife explained to me that there are some actions, especially with magic, where the intent and the willingness to do the action is more important than the consequences. If I sold you my soul, even if there is no such thing, I would still have sold my soul and been willing to sell it. No way am I signing anything you give me.”

Luc squinted at her and said, “Aren’t you a cop?”

“Ex-cop and there’s a reason for that, which I won’t be sharing with the literal devil.” 

Flapping his hands dramatically, contracts appeared in front of everyone but Grant.

Mine promised me a life with the woman I loved and the ability to protect the world. It was tempting but my love would have to choose me or it wouldn’t matter. I pushed the contract away.

“What’s the matter Galahad? Not a good enough deal?”

“I’m far from pure and certainly not incorruptible, but your act doesn’t interest me.”

“Well, if I can’t make a deal with you, I’ll make one with one of the others.”

“No!” I ordered. “You have nothing we want other than our freedom.” I started getting up and added, “Your hospitality has been adequate but we must be on our way.” I focused all my energy toward the building in the same way I would for an Aether-creature and I felt the house pushing back.

With a comical pout, Luc said, “You’re free to go then. But this isn’t the end. I will have your souls.” He cackled and the entire house faded away, leaving us shivering in the forest.

“What? That was—” Sylvie started and I cut her off.

“No. Don’t! Just don’t.” I looked around but there was no hint that the area had ever been inhabited by anything bigger than a squirrel.

“Did you take care of whatever was in the caves?” 

“Actually, Grant did,” I said. 

Sylvie looked him up and down and didn’t say anything. I was having the same doubts that she was but there wasn’t anything I could do about it, yet.

“So was that my quest?” Sylvie asked. 

“Let’s head back to the hotel and lick our,” I looked around, “metaphorical wounds and go on from there.”

As I drove the van around the lake and back toward town, I heard Ursula tell Sylvie, “Some people get the sword before their quest, like me. I got the sword two months before anything exciting happened. Others get it after a show of bravery like Albert. And finally others get it in the middle. You’ll know when it’s over. You’ll feel more secure and safe with the sword.”

Sylvie sighed and replied, “It’s not over. There’s something we’re missing.”

I hit the brakes as hard as I could and swore.

In front of the van was something that filled me with terror. Looking at us bewildered was Popeye the Sailor man in glorious two-dimensional animation.

Clifford was the first to echo my sentiment but soon everyone but Sylvie swore in various languages. 

“It’s just a cartoon. You took on the devil? What am I missing?”

I was the first to explain, “Cartoon characters follow their own rules. They don’t care about things like real life or physics. They’re made by someone extremely powerful or a full-on rupture of the barrier protecting us from voracity of the Aether.”

“Dramatic much, cuz?”

“He’s saying that either we’re facing a mage of Merlin level or someone destroyed a part of the barrier in one of the places it’s the strongest.” Ursula said.

From outside with a bellowing baritone, Popeye said, “I’m strong to the finish ’cause I eats me spinach,” and flexed his improbably shaped arms before punching down on the front of the van.

Read Chapter 7

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