Back in Timothy’s study the lantern was burning low. Timothy had read a large portion of his father’s notes, though there were still many pages to go. Snacks that he had brought with him were long gone. His head rested on his arms and he dozed. His mind was crammed with information gleaned from his father’s book. Slowly he slipped into a deep sleep. Unseen against his chest, the Stone glowed...
A grey mouse wandered down the tunnel. He wore a close fitting shirt and tunic in dark green. It didn’t hide a dark patch of fur on his left leg. His gait was confident, but it would have been obvious to any watchers that he was not totally at ease. The walls around him were lit by little electric lights and the floor beneath his feet was carpeted.
“Jonathan!” The voice rumbled from the shadows of the tunnel as its owner approached the mouse. The little creature, dwarfed by the hulking rat, nevertheless stared back defiantly.
“Jenner. What do you want?”
The rat, Jenner, his dark pelt shimmering in the soft electric light continued in oily tones. All the while he grinned, eyes twinkling beneath thick eyebrows.
“Now, now. Is that any way to talk to an old comrade?”
“Get on with it,” barked Jonathan, obviously not content to play the other’s game. Jenner twisted his face into a mockery of hurt.
“I just wanted to ask how your research is going, my little friend?”
“None the better for your concern, Jenner,” retorted Jonathan, trying to hurry along. Jenner stopped him, placing a thick arm across the tunnel.
“I was wondering if I could offer my services and that of the secretariat. We should help each other out. After all, we are one big happy family!” He put his other arm around Jonathan as he laboured over the last four words, savouring them.
“Get your claws away from me!” snarled Jonathan, pushing Jenner’s huge paw away from him with visible effort. “My research was not welcomed by the scientific council at its conception, and so it will not be shared now, not until it is completed. You and your lackeys can go hungry for information on this occasion.”
Ducking below Jenner’s arm the mouse stormed off into the Rosebush’s labyrinthine corridors leaving the rat alone. In the twilight of the tunnels Jenner bared his teeth, grinning from ear to ear.
“As you wish...”
Arthur looked up from his work as someone entered his workshop.
“Jonathan!” he called whilst turning back to his work.
“How are you, Arthur?” Jonathan asked, stepping around the clutter of the workshop.
“Fine, fine,” Arthur’s head bobbed up and down as he worked. “How’s the wife?”
“Very well, thanks.”
“And those children of yours?”
Jonathan laughed as he replied.
“They’re both so big now! They grow so fast. We’ve got more on the way too.”
“Grand! Hold on...” said Arthur turning around. He was holding a door hinge assembly with a pair of metal tongs. They were glowing bright orange. With a squeal of steam he dipped them into a nearby water bucket. Then he placed the metal hinge on a nearby desk that was already laden with a partially dismantled electric motor. He pulled off his gauntlets, setting those down too. “There now. I suppose you’ve come for your commission.”
“I have,” replied Jonathan. “Is it ready?”
“Oh yes. Patrick had great fun. It required him to do everything he’s good at but much smaller, it was quite challenging in its way.” Arthur crossed to a rack of blades at took up one that looked very small in his hands. “How’s that?” he said, holding it out to Jonathan. The mouse took the weapon and swung it experimentally. The perfectly balanced blade sang as air rushed passed its fine cutting edge.
“Perfect!” Jonathan said as he examined the shining metal.
“There’s a scabbard too of course.” Arthur retrieved it and threw it to the mouse as well. Jonathan caught it with his free hand as Arthur went on. “It’s carved beech wood, lacquer finish. Chestnut skin lining inside, same thing’s on the handle of the sword. It’ll last you.”
“Great,” said Jonathan.
“Your wanting that sword wouldn’t have anything to do with Jenner, would it? Everyone ahs been talking about his behaviour in the council.”
Jonathan slipped the sword into its scabbard. The metal blade glided into place with a click.
“It might,” the mouse replied and changed the subject. “Did you manage to do that other thing for me?”
Certainly. Arthur retrieved a soft cloth bag and handed it to Jonathan. The mouse peered inside and grinned.
“A present for your wife?” Arthur asked.
“You could say that I suppose,” said Jonathan, tying up the bag.
“It’s about time you got here!”
Jonathan shrugged at Mr. Ages as he placed his travelling cloak on a hook near the door. He had changed his clothes and now wore a simple loose fitting shirt with short sleeves. Grinning Jonathan explained,
“Sorry. I had to pick up some of the final pieces.”
“Right, right,” replied Mrs Ages bustling about his laboratory. “What have you done to your hand, my boy?”
Jonathan flexed his left hand that was tightly bound in a bandage.
“Just slipped, that’s all. It’s nothing serious.”
“Hmmm,” mumbled Mr. Ages, accepting the explanation. “Well everything’s finally ready here. However wouldn’t it have been a great deal simpler to have used the Rosebush kilns?”
“Easier maybe.” Jonathan strode forward carrying a small, but apparently heavy, sack. “But not safer. This will take time, and I can’t afford to leave this lying around the Rosebush,” he lifted the sack slightly. “So that leaves your workshop, especially as a rat would have trouble getting in here.”
“You’re getting paranoid, boy,” admonished Mr. Ages. He opened a door that led from his lab. On pressing a switch, dim bulbs flickered into life.
“Paranoia doesn’t suffice around Jenner. I simply can’t afford any complications now.”
Ages laughed mirthlessly as the pair wound through the ancient threshing machine. The electric lights were situated throughout the entire corridor, dim as they were. Outside it was dark so no sunlight could filter into the machine’s depths and light their way. They came upon another door that Mr. Ages opened.
“This took me a great deal of time so...”
“Don’t touch anything...” they said in unison, and then Jonathan continued, “right. Not until you’ve told me what it all does. You’re forgetting I designed it.”
“But I built it! After the rats had dug the hole and left all the delicate bits were down to me and I’ll dance in the council chamber before I let you go ignorantly fiddling with anything in here,” he ducked inside and Jonathan followed.
They were in a spacious room lit by further, brighter, electric lights. It was smaller than Jonathan’s house, though taller. There were no windows for now they would be beneath the threshing machine, underground. It was a circular chamber, the walls braced with strong wooden beams. In the centre was a complex assortment of tubes and pipes, all built into a raised cylinder, a yellow glow emanating from the top. Tendrils of smoke snaked upwards through a vent set in the ceiling. Some of the tubes coiled across the floor and led to a wall-mounted box that sported various levers. Beside was a shelf that had stacks of various items. Jonathan crossed to this, emptying the bag on its top surface. He took another soft cloth bag from his belt and put that to one side and then began to sort the items from the first sack. They were small lumps of rock, all different textures, colours and formations. He gathered up a small pile or select pieces. Meanwhile Ages had crossed to the item in the centre and peered into the top, lifting his glasses to do so.
“The mould is all ready. We can start when you want,” he said, shuffling back to the control box.
“Hmmm,” mumbled Jonathan inspecting a piece of what appeared to be quartz very closely. Mr. Ages shook his head and examined the levers. Pulling out a delicate tool from his work belt he began making final adjustments.
“What are you sorting there, lad?” he asked Jonathan as they both worked.
“Ingredients. Herkimer, Rutile, Flourite, a bit of Adventurine...”
Mr. Ages waved a hand dismissively as the list continued.
“What’s that nonsense? Talk in chemicals, for goodness sake.”
“Can’t. I haven’t chosen them for their chemical properties,” said Jonathan, not looking up from his sorting. “I wanted to avoid thinking like that in this instance.”
“You mean you’re going to put random stones into the mould,” Mr. Ages sounded horrified and turned to stare at the other mouse. Jonathan shook his head.
“No, they’ve been carefully selected.”
“Not according to that pseudo-mystical claptrap, surely?”
Jonathan did not reply. Mr. Ages shook his head again, though more vigorously to match his disbelief. He couldn’t understand Jonathan at times, the lad made some very odd decisions in his work. The pair settled into silence, getting on with their respective tasks.
Eventually Jonathan was satisfied and gathered up the select few stones. He walked over to the central device, the mould as Mr. Ages had called it. Then, one at a time, he began to drop the pebbles he had chosen into the yellow glow. After a few of the stones had gone in, the yellow glow changed to green. A few more and it seemed purple. As the last of the pieces went in the glow became deep blue.
Jonathan glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder at Mr. Ages who was still busying himself adjusting the equipment. Without turning away, Jonathan reached into his shirt and pulled out a small vial. He removed the top and poured the viscous contents into the mould. As he tucked the now empty vial back into his shirt he turned back to peer into the mould. It was now a deep red glow that eminated form the depths. The mouse stood for a moment and nodded before he crossed to Mr. Ages.
“Let it begin,” Jonathan said with a grin, and Mr. Ages glowered.
“That lever,” said Mr. Ages, indicating one on the far right, “begins the process. Throw that lever if you’re sure. These apply the pressure to the cast and must be used in a particular order. Wait for my signal to throw them. These will start the end phases and this one... aborts the moulding.”
“Let’s hope we don’t need it,” said Jonathan taking the first lever in his hand. “Ready?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Jonathan threw the first lever down. There was a hum and the lights flickered and dimmed as electricity was diverted away. The mould in the centre of the room gave off more smoke. It was from here that the hum was originating. The glow became fiercer, burning with an intensity of colour it did not have before.
“Those are the coils heating up,” explained Mr. Ages. “When the system is at the correct internal temperature there will be a release of pressure. This is both a precaution and a signal. When you see the vents open up pull that lever. I will pull this one.”
The mice looked on. Smoke was pouring from the top of the mould now. Jonathan looked at Mr. Ages but the old mouse shook his head. They waited again. A rattling began and then small vent around the base of the structure started to disgorge steam, a high pitched hiss was audible.
“Now!” cried Mr. Ages though Jonathan was already beginning to throw the lever. A moment later as a second vent opened Mr. Ages threw his lever. The rattling became louder for an instant, and there was the squeal of machinery under strain.
“That noise is the pressure chamber engaging,” Mr. Ages shouted over the din. “The next phase is the application of the casts.”
“There’s no need for the running commentary,” Jonathan called back with a grin. Mr. Ages grumbled something under his breath as he turned back to the machine. The rattling had stopped and the vents still dribbled moisture.
“On three, pull those two,” said Ages, not taking his eyes from the mould. “One... Two... Three!”
Four levers went down simultaneously. There was a whirring from the mould and a grinding groan of metal on metal... and then it went quiet. There was only the soft hiss of the vents. Mr. Ages slumped.
“All right. That’s it. Leave it there as long as you want. Begin the final phase and you can retrieve it.”
“Shouldn’t I leave it for some time...? I mean it has to cool surely?” asked Jonathan, though Ages shook his head.
“It’s not necessary. If the notes you sent me are anything to go by, setting will take no time at all. There’s a cooling mechanism as well. You shouldn’t even need gloves.”
Jonathan nodded and pulled the switch that Mr. Ages had indicated at the start. There were more sounds from the mould.
“Thank you,” said Jonathan.
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Ages waved his hand dismissively. “Hurry up! I want to see if this has worked.”
Jonathan crossed to the mould and peered in. He couldn’t see anything. He turned to Ages with his mouth open, but old mouse interrupted him.
“Just wait.”
Jonathan turned back. There was certainly activity somewhere below him. Just then the steam vents began to fire randomly. There was a click and whirr from the machine and a seal opened in its depths. An orange glow illuminated Jonathan’s face, a dry heat making him wince. Slowly the cast was rising from the depths, borne through the cylinder up towards him. Reaching the top it clicked into position, filling the opening at the top of the cylinder, blocking the soft orange light. The electric lights were still dimmed. Carefully he brought his hands near to the dark metal. It was warm but not unbearably so. Gingerly he put his fingers into grooves on their sides and lifted.
What was inside the cast glowed red. Placing the top half aside Jonathan looked at the fruit of his work. Nestled in the remaining half of the cast was a smooth red stone. It was giving off the strange light and in its depths was a delicate swirl of colour. As he watched the light faded and the swirl disappeared.
“It sleeps!” breathed Jonathan reaching to take the Stone from the mould. It was warm to the touch and slipped from the mould with ease. He examined it closely, turning it over and over in his hands... but it was perfect.
“It worked!” he said distractedly to Ages. The old mouse grinned.
“Splendid.” Mr. Ages turned and flipped one last switch. The lights sprang back on and the mould fell into silence. Meanwhile Jonathan had taken the Stone over to the shelf. He opened up the small cloth bag and removed a plain golden medallion. One side was indented as if something should be set there.
“We’ll use my conventional kiln for that, I think,” said Ages peering around Jonathan.
“Thanks,” said the other mouse, still staring into the crimson depths of the Stone. “Do you have a means to engrave as well?”
“Certainly,” replied Ages, collecting together any tools he had used and returning them to the pockets of his overall.
“Is it all right if I leave it here for a day or so? I’m not going straight back to the Rosebush.”
“Yes, yes. That’s fine. Come on...” Mr Ages began to lead the way back out of the room. Jonathan followed slowly, carrying the Stone with great care.
“You are sure you want this all dismantled now?” Mr. Ages asked the younger mouse as they walked.
“Yes, quite sure. The risk of leaving it functioning is too great. It must be destroyed in case others should find it.”
“As you say. But what if that one is no good?” Mr. Ages waved a finger at the red jewel in Jonathan’s hands. Jonathan slowly shook his head. He still seemed far away.
“If this didn’t work then it will be some time before I attempt another, if at all. All my research hinges on this stone.”
“You still have not told me exactly what it does.”
Jonathan grinned.
“It opens the door...”
“How is that young son of yours? Thomas?”
“Timothy,” corrected Jonathan. He worried about Mr. Ages. These mistakes, the little slips of mind, were becoming more frequent and far more obvious.
“Timothy, yes,” Mr. Ages hand went to his forehead. “Is he over that spider bite?”
“I believe so, your medicine was very effective. Though he’s been under the weather again. I just hope it’s not serious.”
The pair were walking through the cavernous halls of the Rosebush. Mr. Ages wore his usual work apron, while Jonathan wore a cloak.
“And your younger daughter? How is she these days?” asked Mr. Ages.
“Cynthia is fine as well...” replied Jonathan.
“Her recovery was nothing short of miraculous give the circumstances, wouldn’t you say?” Mr. Ages cocked an eyebrow at Jonathan, though the other mouse made no reply.
“How about your research?” asked the older mouse.
“The end is in sight. There’s much I do not know, but before much longer I’ll be able to bring my findings before the council.”
Mr. Ages nodded, but did not enquire further.
As they reached the large doors to the council chamber Jonathan threw back his cloak and adjusted something attached to his belt.
“You’re not taking that into the council chamber?” asked Mr. Ages, seeing what Jonathan was toying with.
Jonathan looked down at his sword.
“Is Jenner attending the meeting?” he asked.
“You’re not expecting to have to use it, surely?” asked Mr. Ages.
“You never know with Jenner,” said Jonathan in all seriousness.
Mr. Ages raised his eyebrows, looking away in resignation.
“Don’t worry. I have a modicum of self control. It’s him I’m worried about,” finished Jonathan.
“I doubt Nicodemus would approve,” Mr. Ages muttered. They pushed at the great doors and entered the council chamber of the Rosebush.
The entire council and many of the other rats had turned out. It was reaching a critical stage in the plan and it was important to keep everyone informed of developments. A rat in flowing council robes was stalking back and forth across the speaker’s floor. As he walked, he addressed those present.
“In a few days, a large majority of the food supplies will be taken to Thorn Valley. This will of course require the farmer’s cat to be drugged. Jonathan, will you undertake this task.”
Jonathan rose. He always would agree, and now was no exception. The plan must succeed and this was part of his role in it. Being asked whether he would help now was simply a formality.
“I will,” he said, the speaker nodding in acknowledgement. The rat now turned to face another of those present as Jonathan sat down again.
“Justin, have you chosen an escort for the convoy?”
“The Home Guard is standing by,” said the Captain from where he was leaning against a wall at the side of the chamber.
“Why do we waste supplies and resources on this futile endeavour? The Plan will surely fail!” This voice had come from the far end of the hall, though its owner was making his way to the centre of the floor. His cape billowed with every stride he took. The first speaker stopped and turned to the new arrival,
“Your feelings on this matter are well known, Jenner, and oft lamented. We are inextricably committed to the Plan.”
There was a titter from a few of those present and Jenner ground his teeth before barking out more words.
“All I ask is that we take out time to think this through before the final stages are under way; before we embark irrevocably on this errant venture.”
“So much has already been done,” replied the other rat, “but delays now, with these supplies, would mean crops are not ready. We will miss the season and the move to Thorn Valley will be delayed for another year...”
“We cannot afford such delays,” rasped Nicodemus. The rat, eyes glowing above a flowing white beard, sat hunched in a chair at the end of the council chamber, presiding over the meeting. His staff rested nearby. Jenner meanwhile listened intently, then bellowed,
“What is the hurry? We have everything we need here. A delay of another year will do no harm.”
“You cannot be sure of that,” admonished Nicodemus. “What of NIMH...?”
“What of them?” Jenner rounded on the frail leader, stabbing the air with his finger. “They are far in our past and should not be of any concern to us.”
“You miss the point of the plan, Jenner,” Nicodemus shook his head slightly, taking a deep breath in preparation for speaking. The hall had gone deathly silent to listen to the revered rat. “It is not to escape NIMH, or any humans, that we must move to Thorn Valley. It is to escape our old way of life. We must not subsist off the back of humans like parasites. It is necessary to completely remove all vestiges of our former and present existence. We must create a new future born entirely of our own ingenuity!”
“How will we survive in the wilderness without much of what we see around you?” Jenner countered.
“We did so in the past, we shall learn to do so again,” replied Nicodemus simply.
Jenner sneered, though quickly hid the expression. “Before we didn’t have the knowledge we do. We didn’t have the use of electricity and motors.”
“That is why we must move,” Nicodemus sounded insistent now. “There will be no electricity in the valley save for what we produce ourselves. And the motors will have to be destroyed, as will this settlement.”
“No!” roared Jenner, spinning about, appealing to the others present. “Madness! We should at least leave the Rosebush intact in case we need to return here. What if the new settlement is a failure?”
“If the Rosebush remains as it is we will always be tempted to return,” said Nicodemus, still addressing only Jenner. “We would be better off without such temptation. If we cannot support ourselves, use our own initiative, maybe we should fail.”
This drew a murmur from the council.
“You will doom us all,” spat Jenner over his shoulder. Jonathan decided to speak up in defence of his old friend.
“Not all of us are afraid to survive outside the pampered existence here, Jenner.”
Jenner turned to the mouse and grinned, narrowing his eyes, advancing on Jonathan.
“You’re no doubt referring to your little feral family? A brood of lower creatures living in a hole is exactly what I am trying to avoid!”
“Jenner!” called the chair-rat, though it was too late. Jonathan’s hand crept towards the hilt of his sword. He gripped the handle, staring into Jenner’s eyes. The rat was very close to Jonathan now, close enough to notice what Jonathan was doing, and he grinned back, almost whispering as he said, “Strike me then! It will be a tale for your half-blood children!”
There was a glint of metal as Jonathan began to draw his sword.
“Cease!”
Jenner turned to the voice with another sneer. Nicodemus made his way onto the speaker’s floor. He clung to his staff for support, limping towards Jonathan and Jenner. His eyes were shimmering with gold light as he said, “There will be no bloodshed in the Court of the Rosebush! Conflict of this kind is a human trait and something that is below us.”
Justin ran up to the mouse, putting hands on his shoulders. “Jonathan, calm down,” he hissed into Jonathan’s ear. Few other rats had been close enough to hear or see clearly much of what had just transpired.
“This bickering is wasting our time,” began Nicodemus again, “let us move on to other...”
Nicodemus’s shoulders shook as he stifled coughing. Jenner grinned and bowed, backing away from his leader with arms spread, leaving Justin and Jonathan to aid Nicodemus. Eventually the rat managed to compose himself.
“Help me back to my seat,” he whispered, his voice sounding raw.
They complied and returned Nicodemus to his place at the centre of the council. He took no further part in the meeting, sitting and listening to discussion but not saying anything. Jenner was also very quiet as he watched the meeting continue. His gaze shifted often between Nicodemus and Jonathan Brisby.
“I worry about Jenner. He’s becoming more vehement in his attacks of the plan,” Jonathan was saying as he and Justin helped Nicodemus back to the library and his study. They were passing through the various halls and corridors of the Rosebush. There were few rats here, most of them staying in the council chamber to discuss the morning’s meeting.
“His concern is not unfounded, the Plan has its risks,” Nicodemus said. He paused for breath often as he spoke. “He was a good friend of mine before NIMH... He will see the benefits soon enough.”
Jonathan scowled but was careful to hide it from the rats as he spoke,
“I think you need to be harder with him. He’s taking liberties and being allowed to get away with them unopposed. You must stand firm against him.”
“He will come around to popular opinion of his own accord. Remember I allow you a certain degree of freedom too, Jonathan.”
Little else was said until they reached the library and Nicodemus’ study. The frail rat gratefully lowered himself into his chair. Justin excused himself, saying he had to begin organising the Home Guard for the upcoming mission. Jonathan waited for the door to close before approaching Nicodemus, talking quietly near to the rat’s head.
“Nicodemus... can you look after something for me?”
“Certainly,” Nicodemus rasped.
“Jonathan untucked something from his tunic. It was an amulet, a bright red stone attached to a golden chain.
“The Stone of Jonathan Brisby!” said Nicodemus with a hint of surprise. “Why do you want me to look after it?”
“I fear it is not safe with me,” Jonathan explained. “I will collect it in a few days, but for now, I won’t be able to guard it as I should.”
“I will keep it until you wish it returned,” whispered Nicodemus. Jonathan lowered the gem into the rat’s outstretched hands. Almost at once Nicodemus’ face changed.
“You have used it?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Jonathan. “For my research.”
“No...” said Nicodemus, shaking his head and peering closely at the Stone. “You have released much power.”
Jonathan hesitated before saying,
“I had to.”
“Had to, Jonathan?” asked Nicodemus. His stare was penetrating, and Jonathan knew he had little choice. He closed his eyes as he spoke.
“My youngest daughter... I needed it to save her.” He opened his eyes and met Nicodemus’ gaze. “I couldn’t let her die! There was no other way...”
There was something in the mouse’s eyes and voice that meant Nicodemus did not require further explanation about the circumstances. That was not his concern. However he did have to make sure Jonathan fully comprehended the situation.
“What has been done has been done for the best. However what other, unexpected effects have there been?” Nicodemus’ gaze was keen, inspecting Jonathan very closely as he answered.
“None that I can fathom.” Jonathan returned the gaze, and Nicodemus seemed satisfied. Nearby a small box lifted from a desk and floated through the air towards the rat. With care, Nicodemus opened the hovering casket and lowered the Stone onto the cushioned interior. Unbidden the box then floated away, settling back onto the desk. Nicodemus spoke,
“Well, I shall say no more. It is your research and your family. I shall not give counsel unless you ask for it. I will however offer this warning.” The mouse half turned, as if to signal his disproval, but Nicodemus continued regardless. “Jonathan, be careful. I still do not believe you fully appreciate what you are researching. You have a unique mind, but I fear you still do not possess the respect you should have for the Stone and the energy it allows you to wield.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jonathan wearily. He had nothing but admiration for Nicodemus, but sometimes he grew impatient with him. Nicodemus smiled briefly.
“Surely you must realise that it is no small irony a hard scientist such as yourself is embroiled in research that many would label as sorcery or magic.”
“I am not a believer in magic!” Jonathan nearly shouted, but quickly composed himself. “Any process or object that is poorly understood is easily labelled as magic,” he said with a dismissive wave. “What I seek are facts.”
“Have you considered that what you are studying does not lend itself well to facts?” Nicodemus raised an eyebrow. “That it may not wish to be described as a series of facts?”
“You speak as if the Stone were alive,” on seeing Nicodemus’ expression Jonathan then added, “...and it is not.”
“It is not the Stone that I speak of... it is what the Stone taps. I think it could possibly be the very essence of life, Jonathan. I believe it may be the case that it cannot be understood as understanding it will irrevocably change its very nature.”
“You’re getting very close to speaking in riddles, my friend,” grinned Jonathan, but Nicodemus was still solemn.
“I merely wish no harm to come to you or those you cherish. You have told me little, but it is enough and what you are dabbling in is potentially dangerous and incredibly powerful. Your work could be beneficial, though the power is blind. Good and evil do not exist except in the views and interpretations of creatures. The fox does not hunt out of spite, but to its prey it is an evil against which there is little defence. I realised this too late. I thought I could discover the most profound of the power’s secrets, and look what it did to me!”
“You know what I thought about that!” said Jonathan turning away again, arms folded.
“The Great Owl, and the others were against it from the beginning. It was not their fault. I demanded it, and it bought me physical ruin! I was careless, foolish, don’t let the same happen to you.”
Jonathan sighed and faced Nicodemus. He never knew how to handle the Leader of the Rats when he was in one of these moods.
“Nicodemus, I value your counsel more than anybody’s...” the mouse trailed off, but Nicodemus had more to say,
“I want desperately for your research to succeed. Your legacy... it gives us hope. But hope is a frail thing, Jonathan. Grasp it with fervour and it may very well turn to dust in your hand.”
Jonathan nodded again, saying,
“Thank you my friend. I will be careful.” The rat smiled and Jonathan turned to go, pausing briefly to say, “Thank you for looking after the Stone, Nicodemus.”
As he reached the door, Jonathan turned at further words from the rat.
“I would make haste in informing your wife, Jonathan. I fear that if you do not do so soon there will be regret. And that regret may not be solely your own...”
Jonathan looked at the ruins of his study. Someone had emptied every drawer, cleared every shelf. Papers were littered everywhere, books and equipment were strewn about the floor. He was not shocked. He had expected as much. Slowly he began to tidy the mess. He found his glasses case and thankfully they were unbroken... unused. He stacked books back on shelves except for one that he placed on his desk. He did the best he could with what remained, anything that was beyond repair he placed to one side in a rough sack. The rats were careful about anything that was regarded as waste.
Seating himself at a desk Jonathan took looked at the book that he had kept aside and read the title. ‘Energy Transmission, Conversion and Utilisation’. Opening it towards the end revealed pages full of text. Now opening his glasses case the mouse removed two pairs of glasses and clipped them together. Perching them on his nose he returned to the pages of the book. To him they now appeared quite blank. Taking up a quill and a bottle of ink he began to write on these pages. To any observing without the aid of the glasses the words seemed to glow golden for a moment as the quill passed over the page, the iridescence totally obliterating the original script. Then slowly they faded into invisibility, leaving only the original letters on the page...
Just as a dynamo turns kinetic energy into electric energy so I hope the Stone will work in a similar fashion. But with what resource of energy I am not sure.
There is a diffuse power or energy that permeates the world we know. As is the fancy of a novice first dabbling in his chosen field I christened it the ‘Dream Ether’, however this somewhat romantic title has been popular with those I have spoken to. Ironically, though the name was entirely whimsical, it may be closer to the truth than I could have ever imagined.
Although this energy store is encountered by all things on a daily basis, the only manifestation of the interaction for many seems to be through the medium of dreams. It is this that has led me to hypothesise that maybe this energy reserve is linked to our own world, that the store is created in sympathy to events and actions in this world, a store of energy echoes if you will. However the exact nature of the energy, its origin and purpose are unknown to me.
There are some in the forest that can knowingly tap this reserve. They seem to resonate with the world around them, and are able to channel this energy to a particular ends. This resonating effect is not solely a phenomenon of living organisms. Any item can feasibly channel the energy. Even certain minerals. This has led me to create an artefact capable of accessing the reserve of energy. The Stone.
Made from a combination of various minerals known to be active with this energy it allows a user to wield the unknown power.
The Stone has no power or will of its own just as there is no innate good or evil in nature. Destruction can be beneficial, and creation can lead to harm. It uses only what it is given. Balance is critical. It is the key to the door and so can only open it when used correctly. What is found within is up to the one who wields the Stone. The will to open the door must be strong and felt from the heart. Without this the Stone will not draw any power. However possession of one quality will not suffice. Power without control is nothing. Similarly the ability to control nothing is equally useless. Both must be present together. Commitment must be total and without question then, and only then, will the Stone unlock the power of the heart and be controlled by the one who wields it. If this were not so, the effect could be potentially fatal.
This testing of will is exhausting for the user of the artefact and potentially dangerous, as it has been shown. A period of lethargy or sickness following an unleashing of the energy should not be uncommon. An extremely powerful release of energy could be lethal. The darkness of the soul often leads to its own destruction
Jonathan looked up at a sound from the door. Making sure the book was hidden and the glasses concealed he turned to the door.
“Come in!” he called. Brutus opened the door, nodding in greeting.
“Jonathan. It is time!” he rumbled. Jonathan gave a slow nod of acknowledgement and Brutus shut the door. Reseating his spectacles, Jonathan turned back to his book for a final time.
Just as the body returns to the soil, so the mind returns from whence it came. Such is the cycle that has continued since the beginning.
But the humans have disrupted that natural order. The forests of man, with their towers of stone, are nothing but cages of death. Nothing is created there. Life is sucked in then destroyed. There is no cycle; there can be no true life there. I hope that one day, my work may change that.
He removed the glasses, watching the last of the golden letters fade away. The glasses were returned to the separate compartments of the glasses box; he then replaced the book back on the shelf. It looked just like any of the others; there was nothing to mark it as special in any way. As he readied to leave he reached for his travelling cloak. His hand stopped before he reached it. Not today; he wouldn’t take it today.
Locking the door behind him he followed Brutus along the tunnels of the Rosebush.
The pair reached the outer door to the colony. Brutus pushed it open, and they ducked between the twisted throng of thorns. There was a rustling from the depths of the bush, though nothing else.
“Here’s where I must leave you Jonathan,” said Brutus. “We intend to move a large amount tonight. All the guards that can be spared will be required to guard the convoy.”
“I understand,” said Jonathan.
“Will you be okay alone?”
“Of course,” replied Jonathan, checking the drug pouch for leaks, though it was sealed tight. “Don’t worry Brutus, I’ve done this before, I’ll be fine.”
Brutus nodded and hurried across the farmyard, being careful to keep a lookout for Dragon. The cat was still prowling about at this time, and would be near the farmhouse, ready to be fed by the farmer. The rat made his way towards the back entrance of the colony, where the band of rats that would transport food and other supplies to Thorn Valley were waiting. Jonathan watched him go and then went the other way, towards the farmhouse. The sky was clouded, blotting out the moon and stars, so there was little to guide him. Only the angular pools of light cast from the house’s windows allowed Jonathan to navigate.
He made his way along the wall, making for the west side and the hole in the foundations that would allow him access to the kitchen. He ran over the layout in his mind. It was true he had done this often enough before, though it was still a very dangerous task.
Jonathan was concentrating so hard on this that he failed to notice a large shadow follow him along the line of the wall. As the mouse disappeared into the dark beneath the farmhouse, so it was a moment later that another creature crept after him.
Jonathan left his shirt beneath the kitchen. It constricted movement and might get caught. Better not to take the chance. Clutching the envelope of sleeping draught to him he slowly climbed through the hole in the floor, into the kitchen. Waiting below the dresser he watched the farmer place the cat food on the floor and turn away, strange as the farmer rarely dealt with feeding the cat. It didn’t matter; a moment later he saw his chance and darted out onto the slick floor tiles. He kept his footing and, on reaching the food bowl tore open the drug packet and scattered it into the food. Not wasting a moment he scrambled back onto the floor, making headlong for the cabinet. There was a cry from the farmer.
“A mouse! Quick, get that cat in here!”
Jonathan cursed. He had been too slow. The click of the door catch being released was unmistakable. Jonathan leapt onwards; he could hear the cat’s rasping hiss and the click of its claws on the tiles. With a last great bound he was below the dresser and safe again, for the moment. However he was not unassailable in the crawl space. He looked around to see Dragon peering beneath the dresser, pawing at the gap in an attempt to reach him. Mismatched eyes stared at him hungrily. Jonathan scampered to the hole in the floor, gripping the edge and peering down. His heart skipped a beat as he looked into the hole and saw mad yellow eyes staring back at him from the darkness, vicious fangs bared in an evil grin.
“Jenner!”
“Where is it?” Reaching up Jenner grabbed the startled mouse by the throat.
“Stop!” Jonathan tried to bite Jenner’s hand, but the rat squeezed, crushing his throat and the mouse could do nothing but grit his teeth.
“Where is the Stone?” bellowed Jenner, tightening his grip again. Jonathan looked into the rat’s eyes. There was inevitability there and, as the breath was choked out of him, Jonathan made a decision.
“You’ll never get it, you filthy vermin.” Jonathan actually managed a grin.
Jenner grimaced with rage and tugged Jonathan down, the mouse’s head hitting the edge of the hole with a crack. Then with an effort, the rat heaved Jonathan around, flinging him outwards. Jonathan, his head bleeding from the recent impact, rolled limply towards the open kitchen floor, sliding across the slick tiles.
Jenner’s wide shoulders did not allow him to put his head through the hole. Instead he jumped down, staring at the gaps in the flooring; thin, pale beams of light played across his face. He had his sword drawn and hefted it as he darted about. Above he heard the cat hissing, the scrape of its claws on tiles. He heard a faint scrabbling and worried for a moment that Jonathan was making his way back to the hole. He scurried back and forth following the sounds until finally he heard the high-pitched squeal or a rodent in pain. Jenner stopped to listen intently, his face raised towards the pinpricks of light above him. There was a dull thud and the scream ended abruptly.
Jenner grinned in the darkness, baring his fangs to the shadows. He waited a little longer, listening with keen interest to the little wet noises that followed...
Timothy jerked awake. His forehead was covered in a cold sweat and he was shivering. His father’s cloak had fallen to the floor. Had that been a dream? It had been so vivid, so... real. But it must have been. He felt the warmth of the Stone against his chest. His hand rested on his shirt, clutching the amulet.
There was a knock from the door.
“Timothy! Are you okay?” It was Justin’s voice.
Shakily, Timothy crossed the room and opened the door. Justin was standing there, breathing deeply, looking troubled. The rat did not wait for a greeting.
“Timothy! Come quickly, you are needed!”
“Why? What’s the matter?” he asked, all thoughts of the dream temporarily cast aside. Justin gulped down air.
“It’s Mr. Ages. He’s alive!”
