The Rapture - Chapter 1
Henrik and Michael
‘Quit filling my ears with mud!’ Henrik slammed his fist on the table so hard it creaked.
‘I’m not!’ Michael pulled at the chains around his wrists until his skin split. His ankles were bound to the chair legs. Water pooled around the chair and table legs. He was in a cell no bigger than a double bed. A window near the ceiling, no bigger than a stone brick, granted a pitiful beam of moonlight. Mould clung to the corners of the room making the room smell damp.
Henrik paced back and forth flicking through a notebook. Three steps one way, three steps the other. He turned to face Michael. ‘Right, back to the beginning.’
Michael groaned and rolled his head along the back of the chair. ‘I’ve been here hours for no good reason. No reason! This is an abuse of the King’s authority you are trusted with. The Magistrate will hear of this.’
Henrik snorted, ‘I’m immune to Magistrates. Now, where did you find the Object?’
Michael hung his head, sighed, and started from the beginning hoping this time Henrik would believe him and let him go. ‘We found it on the shore a few miles east. Willam, myself, and some others had sailed out into the ocean a few days before in search of the Object Willam had found in ancient books in the museum. We found an uncharted island. An earthquake struck and we fled. We were repairing the ship when one of our crew spotted something on the tide. It matched the drawings in Willam’s books.’
‘There was no earthquake.’
‘Maybe not on the mainland but there was out there. I saw men crushed by stone. The world shook so violently I thought the gods were rising from their graves.’
Henrik simply shook his head and turned a page. ‘Then what?’
‘Well it was inert so we brought it back to Riverford. Willam locked it in his offices at the museum and that was that,’ Michael shrugged as best he could in shackles. His stomach rumbled. ‘Can I get some food?’
‘Later.’
‘It’s been,’ he turned to the little window behind him. ‘At least six hours. A man needs to eat.’
Henrik slammed his hands on the table and brought his face close to Michael’s. ‘If I can do without food, so can you,’ a harsh smile twisted his lips. ‘What happened next?’ A bead of spittle landed on Michael’s cheek.
Michael winced, ‘Few days later I returned to ask about payment from Willam and went to his offices. Willam wasn’t there but his offices were unlocked. I had a look around and found the Object glowing on the windowsill. It was showing strange patterns on the top of it and had, what looked like, symbols or writing on it. I touched it and the world changed…’ Michael’s heart raced. The world hadn’t just changed it was entirely alien. People had vanished, people had appeared, others had gained power over the elements. Michael could only fantasise about what else had changed beyond Riverford.
‘Describe the Object as it was when you saw it in Willam’s offices?’ Henrik leant against the solid wooden door set in dull grey stone.
Michael inhaled deeply, ‘A box with rounded edges about twice the size of your head, but not your ego. Weird markings on the side. Patterns and symbols appeared on top which seemed to be made of glass. Lots of weird rope came out the back of it about an arm’s length but didn’t seem to do anything. There was a weird pattern beneath the glass too that disappeared when it was showing symbols.’
‘What was it made of?’
‘Metal I think. Steel?’
‘The rope too?’
‘No that was made of something else. No idea what. Very tough though. The whole thing rattled if you shook it like there was moving parts inside. Have you managed to open it up?’
Henrik scowled, ‘I’m asking the questions, not you.’
Michael shrugged, ‘Well, Willam would like to know if you have.’
‘Willam doesn’t ask questions anymore either.’
‘So that’s who told you where I was.’
‘Yes, he was far more cooperative than you are.’
‘I’ve answered your questions! And my story will match his!’
‘Yes but he didn’t break the world!’ Henrik’s fist collided with the door. The four inch thick wood rattled on its hinges. ‘What happened after you touched it?’
‘I woke up in the museum. Don’t know how long I was out. The Object was inert again and that was that. Nothing seemed different until I left. The curator was crying to his assistant about how someone he was talking to had vanished in front of his eyes. I just thought he was drunk again and the assistant, judging by his face, agreed with me. But when I reached the Lustful Maid I’d seen enough weird stuff to believe the curator.’
‘Like what?’ Henrik pulled a stub of charcoal from his belt and held it eagerly over a page of his notebook.
‘People in strange clothing wandering around with lost expressions. Like really scared as if they’d never seen Riverford before, or anywhere like it.’
‘The clothing?’
‘It was similar to ours but… different.’ Michael frowned. ‘Odd material, more fitted. The woman showed so much flesh I thought she’d wandered out of a brothel. Another, a man — I think — wore armour but not like any I’d seen and his helmet was partly glass. What good is that going to be against a sword? Anyway I continued on and I saw a maid, from the Lustful Maid, controlling fire with her bare hands. Now I’ve seen the fayre and let me tell you this wasn’t a trick. She controlled the fire and it didn’t burn her.’
‘What was she doing with it?’ Henrik scribbled down every word Michael said.
‘Burning the faces of the men who used to think she was the Lustful one. Her sister is but they look alike and she was sick of their advances. Don’t think anyone will be making that mistake again. Judging by the men’s faces… I doubt they’ll live the night. One had been burnt to the bone.’ Michael shuddered remembering the trail of melted eyeball dripping onto the road. He coughed, ‘Where’s Willam?’
‘Close.’
‘Where?’
‘I’d be more concerned about how your recent telling matches with the one two hours ago and the one an hour before that.’
Michael slumped his shoulders, ‘Look I’m sure you have rounded up all the weirdos, strangers, and possessed along with Willam and the help but you know as well I do I’m not lying.’
Henrik stared down at Michael his dark eyes revealing more than he would like. Tiredness ringed Henrik’s eyes and his hair was greasy.
‘You are in all black. You smell like a horse. You haven’t bathed or slept since you arrived here which means this is urgent and I’m guessing you travelled a long way. Right?’
Henrik chewed the inside of his mouth and gave a tight nod. ‘I am a King’s Shadow. I was ordered to investigate the epicentre of this event, this Rapture as the King called it. And yes, Monk’s Head is a long way from here, but the smell of horse beats damp. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Michael rocked from side to side, ‘Hard to choose.’ He couldn’t believe a King’s Shadow had been despatched. That meant—‘What happened in Monk’s Head?’
Henrik’s eyes flicked up from his notebook, ‘I’ll have a guard bring you some food.’ The King’s Shadow clapped the notebook shut and left sealing the door behind him.
Michael sat in his cell, alone, with nothing but the cold iron around his wrists and the mould on the wall to keep him company.
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