Angelic Upstart (The Alex Trueman Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  Martin Dukes

  Angelic Upstart

  © 2014 Martin Dukes

  Amazon Edition

  For Jack

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Prologue

  In ‘Worm Winds of Zanzibar’ Alex Trueman finds that his extraordinary but latent potential has brought him to the attention of powerful and dangerous forces in the angelic realm of Elysium. After his adventures in Intersticia, recounted in ‘Caught in a Moment’, he has hardly resumed his ordinary life when he is snatched away into another world. Malcolm, Alex’s angelic friend and protector, intervenes suddenly to protect him from the Brotherhood of Twelve, a secret society of archangels who have identified Alex as a potential contributor to the most powerful artefact in the universe – the Dodekacephalon, a circle of jewel-encrusted skulls that needs one more skull in order to complete it. The archangels have determined that Alex’s skull is the one that they require to complete the pattern they have striven to assemble over millennia. They believe that once his skull is set in place, the universe will end and they will be released from the eternal life that confines them. Malcolm’s timely intervention places Alex temporarily beyond reach of the Brotherhood, but the new world in which he finds himself presents its own challenges and the Brotherhood continue to seek him.

  Alex, together with his friends Kelly and Henry, is now stranded in an alternative universe, one that resembles the 19th century but in which history has evolved along different lines. They find themselves in Zanzibar, East Africa, a state ruled by a boy sultan with despotic power. Alex and his friends are welcomed enthusiastically by the sultan and soon make lives for themselves within the palace and its world. But the sultan falls ill, and when he recovers the shadow of madness has fallen across him. Violently suspicious, vindictive and dangerous, this new Sultan of Zanzibar turns against Alex to become an implacable enemy. Alex and his friends discover the nature of the terrible fate that threatens Zanzibar, namely the plague of deadly worms that periodically scours the land with wind and fire whenever twin moons are aligned. Pursued by the mad sultan and his men, hunted by the agents of the Brotherhood, with the worm wind apocalypse looming over them, Alex’s small company escapes into the West, seeking shelter in a tower built long ago to provide refuge from the worms. Alex is captured by the Brotherhood and prepared for sacrifice in a ritual that will end in the addition of his skull to the Dodekacephalon. Even as the sacrificial sword rises above him he discovers the true nature of his powers – he can teleport himself instantaneously, anywhere within the multiverse. Armed with this power and the knowledge of the rogue archangels’ plans, Alex alerts those in authority in Elysium and comes back to destroy the fateful circle of skulls. Returning to Zanzibar he is in time to assist the escape of his friends and to join them safe within the ancient tower even as the Sultan’s men arrive there and the worm storm brings howling devastation out of the desert.

  Chapter One

  And it was hard. It was hard for all of them. They had been spirited away from Zanzibar after events that would have traumatised the toughest of individuals, young or old. The worm storm that had destroyed the Sultan and his men already seemed so long ago. The events of those desperate days came unbidden to Alex’s mind – when he was eating breakfast, tying his shoelaces, sitting on the bus. There were times when he could hardly close his eyes without seeing the grim black sword rise against the glaring white circle of the oculus high above. It was as though this image was imprinted indelibly on the surface of his mind. And yet it was unreal. The shudder with which he awoke most nights, when the blade came suddenly to his mind’s eye, the cold sweat that gathered beneath his shoulder blades, these were his body’s instinctive reaction to a nightmare that had come to seem just that – a phantasm, a dark spectre that had no power in the light, no toehold in the real world. But it was not just a dream. Cold logic might decry the evidence of eye and memory, but there could be no doubt that these things had happened, especially not when Henry, Kelly, Will and Tanya shared the same memories, the same experiences.

  The beginning of this strange tension between reality and recollection started after the angels had whisked them away from the Tower of Bilimwezi, the Tower of Two Moons. There had barely been time to say farewell to Amjad and Zoroaster as the fire wind that scoured the surrounding countryside howled furiously around the slender pinnacle of stone.

  “You would never have thought it possible,” said Armand, having checked outside with some kind of angelic remote sensing device. “The whole of the town is on fire. There is not a single living creature from here to Canopus. Unless you count the worms,” he added.

  “What about Canopus? What about Zanzibar?” Zoroaster had asked, his old lined face weary beneath his unruly tangle of wild grey hair. “Is anything to be saved?”

  “Not looking good,” said Dave, glancing down at the smooth grey instrument that Armand was studying. “I’m seeing lots of burning buildings and stuff. Phew! Tough break!” he added, blowing out through pursed lips.” I’m guessing there’s going to be quite a body count.”

  “I think not,” said Armand, narrowing his eyes. “Not in the strictest sense.”

  There was a moment in which all exchanged glances, each reflecting varying degrees of sadness and horror. Tanya began to cry. Kelly swept her up and cradled her blond head in her arms.

  “Well,” said Malcolm somewhat awkwardly, rubbing his hands together. “I think it’s time we sorted a few things out.”

  It was sad to say goodbye to Amjad and Zoroaster after all they had been through together, but it had to be done. The angels would transfer them to Punt, so they said. Alex wondered if they would have their memories wiped, though it seemed unlikely, on balance. The story they had to tell in Punt would mark them down as crazy, should they choose to tell it. Only in Nusrat and Kashifah’s company would they feel confident of receiving a sympathetic hearing.

  “And what about us?” Kelly had asked, after farewells had been made and the two Zanzibaris had been spirited away in company with Dave.

  “No memory wipes,” warned Alex. “Not this time – I don’t want to forget I ever knew these guys,” he added, with a significant glance at Kelly. She bit her lip, turning her gaze upon Malcolm.

  “There’s lots to do,” said Malcolm. “We’ve got to drop you back in your own world in such a way that no-one’s going to notice there’s anything amiss.”

  The Outcasts looked at each other. Each was brown as a nut, complexions bronzed by the tropical sun. Henry’s hair had been cropped short, Alex’s had grown longer and Tanya had had her ears pierced.

  “My mum’s going to freak,” she said, fingering her ear lobe.

  “You weren’t really thinking that one through, were you?” observed Henry.

  “Yes, well, there was a time when it looked like we were going to be stuck here forever,” said Kelly, in her defence.

  “In
deed,” said Malcolm, moving things on and narrowing his eyes to scrutinise Alex’s features. “There’s a fair bit of work to do before we can get you home. Tanya’s mum isn’t the only one who’s going to be asking questions.”

  “Quite apart from us all turning up in Cardenbridge looking like Lawrence of Arabia,” added Henry.

  “Indeed. And each of you is several months older than your official biological age. I suspect that you might have grown somewhat in that time,” said Armand. “Still, there are agencies that will address these issues.”

  There were. Mere flesh and bone were as putty in the hands of the angels. Alex found himself lying on a padded platform and being slid into a large tunnel-shaped machine that reminded him of something in a hospital he’d once seen on TV. Various angels were in attendance. One sat at a desk studying what was presumably a control panel, while another three stood about with cups of coffee having a conversation about an absent colleague. It was fortunate for the absent colleague’s peace of mind that they weren’t able to hear it.

  “No memory wipe, remember,” said Alex, with raised finger as he disappeared slowly into the tunnel.

  “That’s not what it says on the job sheet,” said one of the angels with a wry grin, and then, when Alex’s face registered sudden alarm, he added, “Just kidding. What’s so special about your memories anyway?”

  Alex was unable to reply, because by this time he was within the darkness of the tunnel and a soft humming noise filled the air. It seemed unlikely that the angels were going to start any painfully invasive surgery, but he felt anxious nevertheless. In some ways it seemed a relief to be in the tunnel. He was stark naked, for one thing – another reason to resent the presence of casual bystanders. Not that he particularly wanted them to pay him more attention, at least not under those circumstances. His vague feeling of disgruntlement on the subject was set aside as he became more aware of what was happening to his body. A tingling sensation began on his skin, not unpleasant but somewhat alarming nonetheless. This alarm was enhanced when a curious tugging sensation began around his face, as though someone was lightly plucking at his flesh with tiny, tiny fingers.

  It was impossible to say how long the process took, no way of measuring the passage of time. After a while, when the possibility that he might be subjected to painful procedures had receded, he began to relax, and finally sleep’s soft tentacles overcame him. He awoke, summoned from a rather dull dream about banana plantations, by the awareness of light beyond his eyelids. They sprang open. He twitched and turned his head to find that he had been withdrawn from the dark tunnel. The light was bright, white, clinical. There were different angels at the control panel now, two of them paying no particular attention and another standing at his side with what looked like a clipboard. She, for it was a plump woman of about his mother’s age, tapped a stylus on this and regarded him thoughtfully through narrowed eyes.

  “Stand up, there’s a good lad,” she said, “so we can get a good look at you.”

  Feeling terribly self-conscious and resisting the urge to cover his nether regions with his hands, Alex slid off the platform.

  The woman looked him up and down critically, grasping his upper arm to turn him round.

  “You’ll do,” she said matter-of-factly, having had a long, considering look at the back of him as though it might only just barely meet her criteria for backs.

  Any further observations she might have been about to make were interrupted by the entry into the room of Henry, Will, Kelly and Tanya. The fact that they were fully clothed placed Alex at an obvious disadvantage, causing him to push past the clipboard angel and take refuge behind the machine, pursued by the laughter of his friends.

  “Get out!” he instructed them, to no obvious effect.

  Later, Alex was provided with a set of clothes exactly the same as the ones he had been wearing at the moment Malcolm had rescued him that day, so long ago, in the park. He picked up his phone eagerly and checked it for messages, despite the obvious futility of doing so. There was apparently no signal in Elysium either.

  “Same,” said Kelly with a shrug, slipping hers away in a pocket.

  “What’s happening now?” asked Will, thumbing his glasses up his nose.

  “Going home... I guess,” said Alex, seating himself on the arm of one of the leather sofas with which the room was furnished.

  It was some kind of waiting room, plainly equipped with carpet tiles on the floor and a number of framed pictures showing slices of landscape unlikely to arouse any particular emotion. There were no windows, but a sign on the wall warned against carrying away the dog-eared magazines with which the low, glass-topped table was furnished. There was a faint smell of antiseptic.

  “Any time soon, do you think?” asked Henry, who was leafing idly through a magazine about cars.

  “Dunno,” said Alex, leaning over to check through the pile for anything of interest. There wasn’t.

  Each of them had been prepared for their return to their own world, each of them pasty pale once more after the tan of East Africa had been stripped away. Alex, at his own request, was now the possessor of a pair of ears that stuck out very slightly less from the sides of his head. Not that he would have admitted it. He glanced at his companions to see if they had thought to make alterations of their own. Was Will very slightly reduced around his middle? Was Kelly perhaps a little more generously endowed beneath her hoodie?

  “What?” she demanded, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  Alex’s eyes moved swiftly on to Tanya, whose ear piercings were healed over now, and then they came to rest upon Henry, who had torn a page out of his magazine and was making a paper aeroplane. What minor alteration might Henry have seen fit to request? It was entirely possible that he already regarded himself as perfect in every respect.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Tanya, nestled next to Kelly on the sofa, legs tucked up beneath her.

  “Huh? What do you mean, what are we going to do?” asked Alex.

  Before anyone could give much thought to this issue, the door opened and a number of angels came into the room. Two of them were Armand and Malcolm. The latter grinned and winked at Alex in a manner that involved most of the muscles in the right side of his head. The third was an angel Alex had never seen before. The deference with which Armand and Malcolm treated her suggested she was an angel of some importance. It soon became apparent that she was an archangel, one of Elysium’s elite. Packed into a grey suit and at least as tall as Armand she had a long face and small features distributed unevenly about it. Her eyes, though, held a lively spark of intelligence and she moved with the ease and confidence of one who rarely faces contradiction.

  “This is Audrey,” said Armand after a moment, prompted by a slight turn of her round shoulders towards him and a slight rise in one of her luxuriant eyebrows. “She’s in charge of this operation.”

  “I am,” said Audrey in a clear, surprisingly high and musical voice. “And I have followed your careers with interest... great interest,” she added, regarding them all benevolently, hands clasped before her. “It is rare for mortals to play such a significant role in the affairs of Elysium – rare indeed. And Alex here, Alex is a...” she gestured vaguely with a hand.

  Henry looked up, the faint smile on his face suggesting that he was mentally supplying a suitably unflattering noun with which to complete her sentence.

  “… quite extraordinary individual,” she finished, suddenly fixing Henry with a disapproving glare that opened up the possibility that she could read minds. Henry blenched and cast his own eyes downward. “Yes...” she sighed. There was a period of silence during which Audrey gathered her thoughts and everyone else looked at her expectantly.

  “You are fortunate that we have decided to leave your memories intact. Those whose job it is to consider such things have decided that you represent no threat. You will be going home very soon. I advise you to make no mention of your adventures, unless amongst yourselves. At best, I doubt anyon
e would believe you, and at worst you might be considered mentally unbalanced. You will have no further dealings with Elysium. I urge you to put all this behind you and to get on with your lives. After a while it will seem no more than a dream, no doubt.”

  She turned to Alex. “As for you, Alex,” she frowned, “I confess we have rather scratched our heads over the problem that you pose. My advice to you is the same as for the others, but your unusual... er... ‘abilities’ mark you down as something of a special case.”

  “The multiverse is your oyster,” said Malcolm, slapping him on the shoulder.

  “Indeed,” said Audrey, looking critically at Malcolm. “You have demonstrated that you can move at will through the cosmos, a remarkable quality and unprecedented in your kind. And yet I urge you to live a simple life, amongst friends and family, the life for which you were born. I urge you not to… not to travel in any manner that might be thought unconventional in your world.”

  She regarded him now in a pensive, considering way, and yet Alex thought he detected a trace of anxiety, too.

  “Live a life, a human life, Alex, a life that is entirely natural and appropriate. We will be watching,” she added, her eyebrows twitching downward in a manner that added meaning to this warning.

  “Well, is everything ready?” asked Armand a little awkwardly, rubbing his hands together after Alex had had long enough to take this on board. “It looks as though the technicians have prepared you all with admirable thoroughness.”

  “Yeah, good to go,” said Henry whilst everyone else nodded vigorously, glad that this curious episode appeared to be drawing to a close.

  “Then I shall bid you farewell,” said Audrey.

  And then they were in the park, or at least Alex, Kelly and Henry were there. Will and Tanya were presumably wherever they had been on that dull Saturday afternoon. Of the ambulance and the ambulance men that had precipitated their unlooked-for adventure in Zanzibar, there was no trace. Alex glanced at his watch – 3:23pm it read, exactly as it should. It had been raining hard earlier, but now a chill wind whipped a little thin drizzle into their faces, chasing ripples across the surfaces of the puddles around the children’s playground. They looked at each other uncertainly.