Pisky's ATS Story

Chapter 28 - The Swords of Wayland

"Weird"
Tobias's voice echoed eerily in the enclosed space. Behind him the pixy dropped off the ladder and stared around.
The room - if it could be called that, was a small circular chamber no larger than thirteen feet in radius.
"Feck me !" said Pisky as his eyes took in the strange images adorning what looked like pure rose gold walls.
Outside the entrance, KayEm, Sarah and Fingal milled, all looking down the hole into the chamber buried many feet below what was left of Wayland's Smithy.
"Where's the light coming from ?" Tobias asked, running his hand along the wall.
"No idea", Ravenna replied, peering at an icon that looked suspiciously like Pisky's ATS avatar, "Its almost as if the walls themselves are emitting it - like those glow-in-the-dark fungi and fireflies"
Pisky looked across to where KayEm was decending the golden ladder. "So what's this all about then ?", he asked Ravenna as she turned to investigate another image.
"If you look here", she gestured to the left, "and here", now she pointed to the right, "You can see little inscriptions in between the images. Some of them I recognise - Runic, Coelbren, Greek, Arabic - but some are just out of my scope".
Pisky traced a squiggle on the wall with his fingers. "So you can read some of it ?"
"Some", the archaelogist replied, grinning; "For example, the inscription you are so lovingly caressing is the Arabic word for 'Death'"
Pisky pulled his hand away and scowled.
"Nice place for a nuclear bunker", KayEm exclaimed as she walked over to the opposite side of the room and faced the entrance ladder.
Sarah was descending gingerly, one hand grasping a mug of coffee while Fingal sat on the edge waiting his turn. Tobias stood in the centre of the room, as awestruck as it was possible for him to be, while Ravenna stared at an inscription encircling the topmost section of the walls.
"Chosen of Myrddin ..., She began "Thy tests are ... whats this ? ... hmmm ... nigh ? ... here ? .. whatever. Anyway, this line basically says that the 'Chosen ones' are to undertake tests to see if they are fit to wield the swords".
"and exactly what are these 'tests' ?", Pisky asked, "and when are they supposed to happen ?"
"Sorry", Ravenna replied, "I haven't got to that part yet". She turned back to the inscription.
Fingal reached the floor, his white hair shining gold in the ethereal light.
"Don't you think someone should wait outside", he said pointing towards the entrance, "Just in case the ..."

And the cover slammed shut.

And the light went out.

And something happened.





Kernow

Pisky looked around him. Dark stormclouds rolled above, threatening a downpour which was unlikely to be the refreshing rain of classic novels. A few dismal buildings that looked as if they should have been condemned years ago stood either side of an old cobbled street, while along the cracked footpaths a few depressed looking people walked slowly along. It was a dark place, not just physically but spiritually. A place that reeked of suffering and death.

Around a corner, voices could be heard. Awful, mocking voices raised in jeers and catcalls. Hearing those hateful voices, the few people on the streets scattered away in fear, leaving only the solitary pixy standing in the road. Carefully he walked silently towards the junction. What he saw made his blood boil.
Three men stood around a crouching figure, shouting and spitting, while all the time laughing as if at a particularly good joke.
They were dressed in uniform and held rifles in their hands. It wasn't that fact that stopped the pixy in his tracks - he'd seen enough Corporate thugs acting like animals. It was the uniforms they wore. The uniforms of Hitler's Third Reich.
"Oh bollocks !", muttered the Pixy, and started towards them.

The target of their scorn was a man. A small, old man with a long white beard. His hat lay on the floor where it had landed when knocked from his head. He held his arms up to shield his face as the three Nazi thugs taunted him, spit on him and struck him viciously with their hands and rifle butts. As the pixy approached, one of the attackers saw him and with a grin on his face picked up a brick and hurled it through a nearby window. The sign above said 'Cohen - Tailors' and Pisky could just read the remnants of graffiti painted on the now shattered glass below.

'Juden'

"Here", said the Soldier, holding out another brick and nodding to a similarly 'adorned' window. Pisky didn't have time to wonder how he could understand the language. He had never bothered to learn German, but it seemed that he could understand it now. He reached out and took the brick. He hefted it in his hand, gauging the weight - then slammed it straight into the temple of the grinning nazi. The man dropped like a stone as Pisky grabbed his fallen rifle like a club. Shocked to see their comrade fallen the two remaining members of the 'Master Race' failed to react for just the split second it took for the pixy to slam the butt of his rifle in the genitals of one, while simultaneously emptying the barrel into the face of the other.
"Master Race, my arse !", muttered the pixy as he reviewed his handiwork. Two dead nazis and one lying on the floor groaning in agony.
Pisky cocked the rifle and aimed at the fallen soldier.
"No", An old gnarled hand grasped his arm; "You are better than them".
The pixy turned. The face that regarded him was old and crinkled like crunched up paper, but the eyes glittered merrily in their sockets.
"Thank you", he said, bending down to pick up his hat. "For what you have done. Now, follow me".
Shrugging his shoulders, the pixy dropped the rifle and followed the old man through a dingy looking alley, across an equally dismal looking street and into an old house similar to all the others in the neighbourhood.
Opening the door, the old man gestured to Pisky to enter before closing it and removing his coat with the yellow star of David sewn on the chest. This he hung on a hook beside a small cupboard, which he opened with a flourish, removing from it a long package wrapped in sacking.
Pisky watched interestedly as the man placed his package onto a table near to a small fireplace and began unwrapping it, carefully untying the string holding it together. Finally he removed the sacking and held up its contents.
"Feck me !", whispered the pixy.
It was a long, finely made sword. The wooden hilt gleamed in the light of the fire while the blade itself reflected the flames like a mirror. The old man turned and held it out towards Pisky. "Yours, I believe", he said.
The pixy took the sword in his shaking hands and stared at it for a little while. The balance was perfect, as the pixy knew it would be.
"Kernow" he whispered.
"Kernow", repeated the old man, holding out the scabbard.


Cymru

"....you are condemned from your own mouth that on the thirty-first of October sixteen hundred and ninety two, you did traffick with the devil and did sell to him your immortal soul !"
KayEm opened her eyes. Then she closed them again.
"... That you did worship Satan and defile this congregation by spewing vileness into the ears of the ..."
"Oh sh!t !" KayEm opened her eyes again and looked around. She was in the centre of a group of people, all facing the same direction - the direction from where the voice issued. The direction of the scaffold.
"Now what ?" she exclaimed.
A hand touched her arm. "Quiet thy speech, Goodwife, lest Repentance Pitts take upon himself to convict thee too! - especially with thine strange garments". The woman smiled worriedly and removed her hand. KayEm stared in disbelief. The woman, in fact everyone - KayEm excluded - were dressed in clothes more befitting a Seventeenth Century living History group. Except that KayEm knew that this was for real.
"Who ?", she asked.
"Repentance Pitts - yon judge"
"And jury too, by the looks of it" KayEm muttered to herself.
"I am innocent", came an anguished cry. "I am a healer. I used herbs to cure Goodwife Hope's baby. I never meant harm - I only wanted to help. I never sold my soul to ..."
The first voice burst out once again, shaking the air; "So thou sayest. But I sayeth that thou are a witch and a sorcerer and that thou dids't circumvent the will of God by taking the child from the grasp of death".
KayEm pushed forward, slipping through the throng until she was at the very front.
An old woman was on her knees beside a dark garbed man in the dress of a Puritan. The man glared with disgust at the woman, who was covered in grime and badly beaten. Her hands were lumpy with arthritis and her hair grey and lank. The man, on the other hand, was tall and scrawny and his eyes those of a fanatic. He clasped a Bible in his hand, the other hand pointed towards the sky as if calling down the wrath of God upon the unfortunate wretch before him.
"Look, thou believers - behold the witch. Behold her who will soon appear before the Lord God for judgement. And thou knoweth well the judgment she will receive !!!!" He turned his gaze towards KayEm. "Hell and Damnation waits for her, and for all who serve the devil !!!" KayEm glared at the man. He turned away. "She will hang this very morn", he said, "For it is said 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'".
The old woman looked up. Her eyes pools of anguish. "Help me", she whispered, her battered mouth struggling to form the words, "please".
KayEm turned and walked away.

"Please", said a wizened old voice from the crowd, "Let her go. She's been a good wife to me and only meant the best". The crowd parted and an old man walked towards the front. "She only meant to save the babe. She's no trafficker with devils".
"So you say", spat the Judge. "Yet she admits to the crime. That of denying the will of God. The child was destined to die and your wife went against the will of He who will judge the world".
The old man dropped to his knees, tears pouring down his creased old face. "Have mercy sir, I beg of thee".
Pitts' face went purple with rage. He glared angrily at the old woman's husband. "Have a care lest you join her upon the scaffold !", he snapped. "She is a witch and a sorceror and she defied the will of the Lord !!!.
"The Lord tells me he can get me me out of this mess", came a cute female voice, "But he's pretty sure you're fooked !"
"What ?!?!?!?!... Who dares blaspeheme the holy name ????" Pitts scrawny neck bobbed forward and backwards as he scanned the crowd for the speaker.
"Actually", said KayEm, "I'm not blaspheming anyone. I'm just stating fact". And at that she pointed back to the nearby village where a plume of smoke could be seen issuing from one of the barns. "Looks like you have something more important to do now than string up a poor old woman".
Seeing the fire, the crowd gave a collective gasp before rushing off in a vain attempt to put it out. That left five people left. KayEm stood beside the old man. His wife still kneeled at the feet of Repentance Pitts while behind her stood a large brute who looked more Neanderthal than anything.
"Demon from Hell !!!", spat the Puritan judge, "Thou useth thy magick to set our barn afire".
"I used an oil lamp actually", came the sassy reply, "Now - are you going to let her go or do I kick 'thine' ass ?"
"Vile Jezebel !!! - thinks't thou that thy actions here will save this witch ? Nay ! - for she will'st be in Hell with Satan by the end of this day - and thee with her !!!"
KayEm laughed. "I wish the pixy was here", she said in between giggles, "He'd love this."
Pitts glared. "A pixy ?!?!?!? ... Thou speaketh with a pixy ?!?!?!? ... thou surely art a trafficker with ..."
"Yeah yeah ... trafficker with the devil ... etc etc and all that crap", KayEm moved closer, her long dress swishing against the grass.
"Take this demoness and hang them both together !", Pitts ordered his brutish partner while stepping deftly away from the angry looking KayEm.
The Neanderthal, obviously the village hangman, moved forward. KayEm put her hands on her hips and glared.
Grinning maniacally the hangman reached for the disrespectful woman. He would enjoy beating this one. Torturing the old witch who kneeled before Pitts didn't even make him break a sweat. This one was stronger. But not as strong as him. Yes, he would enjoy torturing this one. Breaking her bones and listening to her cry for mercy. He leaned forward, saliva dripping from his lips. Then his head shot backwards with a crack as KayEm leaped into the air, spun around and slammed her dainty right foot into his teeth.
The hangman crashed backwards, bounced once and was still.
"I taught Trinity everything she knows", KayEm grinned. "Now then ..." and she turned to where Repentance Pitts had been, only to see him running as fast as he could back towards the village, his tailcoats flapping in the wind. As to which wind it was, only Pitts knew, and his position as pillar of the community forbade him from ever speaking of it.

KayEm strode over to the old woman and took her hands. Her husband beamed in happiness. "Problem is, I don't know what to do now", KayEm said, "Obviously you won't be able to go back there", she looked towards the village, "And unless you hurry they will just catch you again".
"Don't worry about that, lass", the old man said with a twinkle in his eye, "We've got a nice place to go. But before we do, I have something for you". And he handed her a long, leather wrapped package which seemed to appear from nowhere.
"What is it ?" KayEm asked, although deep inside she already knew.
"Cymru" said the old man.


Caledonia

"What the .... ", Sarah spun around in search of the noise that assaulted her ears. She obviously wasn't in Kansas anymore, if she had ever been there. Neither was she in Wayland's Smithy. In fact she had absolutely no idea where she was.
Sarah stood beside a rough looking river which rushed headlong towards a large bank of mist far to her left. It was from that mist bank that the noise was issuing, denoting the presence of a powerful waterfall. Looking around her, she saw a few people camping nearby, while a group of young children played with a frisbee and a dog lazed beside a Winnebago.
"Obviously the US then", Sarah mused, "But where exactly ? And more to the question, Why?".
She sauntered over to the nearest campsite, her hair blowing in the warm wind and a smile of recognition on her face as she smelled the heavenly scent of newly brewed coffee. Beside a small campfire an old couple sat reminiscing. The woman was laughing as her husband finished a particularly humorous story, emphasising the punchline by taking off his baseball cap and waving it in the air.
The woman looked up, her eyes glittering with happiness, and noticed Sarah standing nearby.
"Don't just stand there like a spare part, hun", she said, gesturing to the campfire, "Come over here and have a coffee. Shoot the breeze and all that".
Sarah grinned and strode quickly to the campfire. The old man stood and thrust out his hand in welcome "John Schitt", he said, "But you can call me 'Jack'".
Sarah giggled.
"Pappy had a rare sense of humour", the old man continued; "Still, you can now honestly say that you know Jack Schitt", He grinned and gestured to the old woman who shared his campfire. "This here's my wife Olivia", he said still grinning, "but we hereabouts call her 'O'"
Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I see you've brought your own coffee mug", Jack said, easing his tired old bones beside his wife. Sarah looked down and saw the cup, still half full of coffee, that she had taken with her inside Waylands.
"It's a long story" she explained, plopping down opposite the old couple and sitting cross legged at the fire.

"So what brought you here to the Great Outdoors ?", Olivia asked after refilling Sarah's mug. "Vacation or ..."
The conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by a high pitched scream of terror coming from one of the children. The dog leaped up, barking madly and running around as the first scream was answered by a series of others, each more terrified than the last.
Sarah jumped to her feet, scanning the area for the source and gasping in shock as she realised what it was. There, in the roughest part of the river, a small child could be seen struggling desperately against the waters. Sarah threw her coffeecup to the ground and sprinted towards the riverbank. At the edge of the water a young couple stood completely immobile as their child was dragged inexorably to the waterfall and his inevitable death. The mother was screaming in terror, the father stood shaking. They would be of no use. Sarah tore off her jacket, kicked off her shoes and without a second thought dived into the fast rushing river.

The coldness of the river knocked the breath out of Sarah as she cut through the water. Looking desperately for the child, she saw a tiny arm waving before being pushed down into the icy depths. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away, heading downstream towards where she had last seen the little child - heading towards the waterfall and, if she wasn't careful, a watery death.
A piece of branch hit her head as she swam desperately in search of the toddler. She swore as it got tangled in her hair, causing her to tumble end over end before she was able to dislodge it and continue the desperate search.
Breaking water having disentangled herself from the branch, Sarah saw a flash of yellow - the child's jacket - and she redoubled her efforts. He was almost at the waterfall now and Sarah knew that it would be a close call. Tiring, she nevertheless managed a final burst of speed, her hand caught the boy's jacket and within seconds he was in her arms.

The river was strong. Far stronger than the now weakened Sarah, especially with one arm wrapped around the child. She kicked desperately for shore but knew in her heart of hearts that she wouldn't make it. With a scream of definance she hurled the boy out of the water, to land unharmed on the muddy riverbank. She was all of five feet away from safety but it might as well have been a mile. Sobbing for breath, she watched as she approached the waterfall. She had already reached the mist. It wouldn't be long now. She tensed for the fall, for the landing. Maybe she would survive. Maybe - but probably not. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the inevitable and something grabbed her arm. She stopped. The river rushed past, the tree branch that had hit her earlier disappeared over the waterfall, but Sarah was still. Something was holding her. She opened her eyes. Jack Schitt stood - actually stood in the river holding onto her arm looking for all the world like a strong tree-trunk - completely impervious to the water racing around him. Sarah grabbed onto his arms and without a word he waded out of the river, back to the bank. He released his charge and she dropped to the floor, breathing wonderful air into her lungs. Turning her head she smiled to see the little child being gathered up by his relieved parents then, as the realisation of what she had done hit her, she started to shiver.

Finally she was able to stand and with Jack's help walked back to a heroes welcome and a nice hot cup of coffee. Once she was dry and warm once again, Jack squatted beside her, his eyes glinting with pride. From inside the Winnebago, Olivia brought a long package wrapped in oilskins and tied by leather thongs. Handing it to Jack, she too had a glint in her eyes. The old man stood and held out his hand to Sarah.
She put down her coffee cup, took his hand and was lifted to her feet. Holding the package in both hands, Jack offered it to the New Yorker.
"Caledonia", he said, with a smile on his face.


Erin

"Too bad bitch - too fookin bad !"
Alys moaned softly and moved closer to the wall. It was grimy and smelled of old paint but right now it was her only refuge. How stupid she felt, how scared. She knew she shouldn't have come back for her things. She knew what 'He' was like. And now she knew she was going to suffer for it."If only I had waited for Joe to get off work", she thought - although it wasn't so much of a thought, more like a feeling - Joe would have come with her and 'He' wouldn't have dared to take on Joe. Alys thought of her big brother who had always taken care of her and protected her especially after their parents had been killed. She wished Joe were here. But he wasn't, there was only little Alys and 'Him'. Alys couldn't bring herself to use his name, the name of the man she met and loved and married in a whirlwind romance only to discover that he was more Mr Hyde than Dr. Jekyll.
"Hyde", thought Alys as she cowered into the kitchen corner of the house she had once lived in, "That's what I'll call him from now on ... If I have the chance. If he doesn't kill me today".
A large grimy hand grabbed her by the shoulder, hauling her to her feet.
"Think you can just dump me ???" The sound was harsh to her ears, like a bulldog chewing gravel. The smell of stale tobacco and whiskey made her feel ill. "You piece of crap. You ugly old bitch. You dare dump me ?!?!?! Bloody whore !!!".
Alys shivered, then screamed as a fist slammed into her stomach, driving the air out of her and making her see stars. After the first few months of marriage she hadn't been able to please him. She had tried, she really had. She'd dyed her long brown hair blonde because he liked blondes. She'd left her job because he thought she would be chatted up by her co-workers. Finally she had even stopped visiting her uncle and aunt because he didn't like them.

And still he hit her, still he beat her.

Eventually she had left him. Two days ago. Now she was back and he was going to finish what he started.

With a roar, Hyde grabbed her by the hair and pulled her away from her only refuge, spinning her around and slamming her battered body into the table before dropping her to the floor.
Alys groaned as the pain throbbed through her. Her head spun, the stars threatened to overwhelm her. "Oh God", she moaned as a dull sickness rose from her gorge.
Hyde laughed. "No chance", came the taunting reply, "You're fooked. He won't help you now"

"Now I really wouldn't be so sure", came a soft Irish voice from behind the thug, "I wouldn't be so sure at all"
Hyde spun around his arms raised to crush the bastard who dared to challenge him in his own house. His own house !!!. He opened his mouth to shout imprecations towards the interloper before beating him to a pulp.
It wasn't going to happen.
A fist crashed into his mouth, shattering his front teeth. He reeled back as a punch to the solar plexus drove the wind from his lungs. "Who the f ..." Hyde started to say, only to receive a powerful uppercut that rammed him into the wall, turning his legs to jelly and his brain to mush. Not that he had much brain to start with.

Alys whimpered as a soft, warm hand touched her cheek. She looked up dizzily. A small white-haired Catholic priest stood beside her, offering his hand. She took it and was helped to one of the chairs beside the now broken table.
Alys looked at the priest. Then she looked at Hyde who was sleeping the sleep of the unjust with a massive bruise forming on his jawline.
"Who are you ?", Alys asked as the priest walked to the sink and returned with a glass of water.
"Father Fingal O'Flaherty", came the reply, "At your service". He sketched a bow and grinned.
Alys sipped the water. "How did you get here ?", she asked once her mouth was no longer so dry.
"Its a very long story", Fingal replied, "But I'm pleased I was here. That gob#e could have killed you".
"I think he wanted to, the woman replied, "But if you don't mind me asking - how can a Catholic Priest fight so well ?"
Fingal grinned. "Well, officially I shouldn't be doing that at all, but I'm sure Our Lord will forgive a poor old priest, especially when he's defending a pretty young lady such as yourself".
Alys smiled shyly.
"And to answer your question - I was brought up an a rather unwholesome area of Dublin, to be sure. Kids there learned two things, how to fight and how to drink. I prefer the latter to be honest".
Hyde grunted, indicating that he would soon be conscious, although probably no longer a danger to his soon to be ex-wife.
"Now then", Fingal said, indicating Hyde, "Your man there will soon be leaving the land of nod so I think we need to skedaddle unless we want to risk a second bout. I doubt he'll be of use for anything, but its better to be safe than sorry".
Alys nodded her head and, with a final despairing glance at the waking Hyde, followed the priest out of the building.

"Here it is", Alys smiled as she pointed to the small little house with delicate ivy trailing along the walls. Feeling much better, she tripped along the path to the door and pressed the bell. "My uncle M's house. Actually he's my mom's uncle - well, was. She's dead now. Uncle M. took care of Joe and me when we were kids". Fingal nodded his understanding.
An old man answered the door, his face beaming as he saw who was there. "Alys !", he said, gathering the young woman up in his arms. Then, noticing the priest he smiled a welcome before ushering his neice into the house.
"I have something of yours", he said, his eyes twinking in the moonlight. And, reaching behind him, he drew out a long package wrapped in sacking. He smiled as he offered it to Fingal.
"Erin", he said as the old Priest took the bundle.
Erin, came the reply.


Excalibur

"What the hell is going on now ?"
Tobias looked around. He knew where he was, he just didn't know how he got there.
Wolverhampton. Just down from St. Peter's Church. Tobias stood near the Lich gates staring down towards Queen Square. But there was something different - something wrong. It took a few seconds for him to realise what it was. "The statue", he muttered to himself, "It's where it used to be. And there are the old public bogs". He started walking, crossing Lichfield Street and was half way over when he realised that the street itself was different to how he remembered it. The last time he was in the city, there section to his right was accesible only by buses, taxis and delivery vans. Now it was a two-way road and most of the additions - the expansion of Queen Square, the refitted Lloyds Bank, even the filled-over public toilets - were no longer visible. "Bugger me !", he said, as he walked over to a newspaper seller hawking his wares with explosive cries of Express n' Star !!! every couple of seconds. Tobias handed the man some coins and took a paper from his outstretched hand. He had just managed to read the date when the hawker grabbed the paper back and thrust the coins back to him. "I weren't born yesterday", snapped the man, glaring at Tobias. "Tek yer fukkin forrin munny an stuff it up yer arse !", and with this he turned away from Tobias and continued to advertise his wares.

Tobias looked down at the coins in his hand. A twenty pence piece, a ten pence piece and a two pence piece. And then he looked at the dates. 1994, 1997 and 1998. Tobias sighed and stuffed the coins back into his pocket. The date he had read before the newspaper was roughly torn from his grasp was Saturday ,March 6th 1976. No wonder the newspaper seller had thought his money was foreign - it was almost twenty years too early. Tobias shook his head; "Where's John Titor when we need him ?" he said sardonically as he looked down Dudley Street at the shoppers milling around. "A normal, peaceful Saturday afternoon in the city, er, town ... Wolverhampton was still only a town in '76", Tobias mused as he started wandering along, the bright spring sunshine glinting on the shop windows.

Moving slightly to avoid an old woman with a pull-along trolley, Tobias noticed a small group of people gesturing animatedly near one of the shop fronts to his right. Within seconds the group broke apart, yelling, and waving their arms, some even dropping their shopping in their desperation to get away from whatever they had been looking at.
Tobias grabbed one of the fleeing shoppers, "Run !!!", the man yelled in his face, "It's a bomb !!!"
Tobias released the man who disappeared into the crowd, most of whom hadn't faintest idea of the danger they were in. "Bollocks !", Tobias muttered. And then the soldier inside took over. Pushing the last few gawpers away, he walked slowly to the object that lay on the pavement. A battered 'Marks & Spencer' bag could be seen, from which protruded a timing device and a couple of wires. Obviously the person who first found the bag had opened it, revealing the explosive device hidden inside. "Fookin IRA bastards !!!", Tobias muttered as he bent to examine the package. And still people milled around. It was as if they had death wishes or something like that. They knew by now that something was amiss, but instead of getting as far as possible away from the source, some of them actually walked over to see what it was. And others just ignored it, assuming that it was, like many other bomb threats, a hoax. People just strolled along without a care in the world, dragging their children along for the ride. Tobias grabbed another siteseer by the arm, dragging the man away and pointing to a nearby phonebox. "Call the cops", he ordered, "Tell them to send the bomb squad". Then, furious with the stupidity of the people around him, he stood and with his best army voice commanded them to leave the area. Some even took notice. Most just sauntered around as if they had all the time in the world. And then he saw the children.

With a yell of anguish, Tobias ran towards them. A young boy and - Tobias assumed - his younger sister, had approached the package while the soldier was otherwise employed. "Get away from that fecking thing !!!!", he yelled as he reached the pair, grabbing both of their arms in order to pull them to safety. "Look !!!", the boy said, pointing to the timer. Cold shivers pulsed down Tobias's spine. The countdown was almost complete.
The timer was an old LED watch, the red numbers flickering as it performed its countdown to death.

5 ... Tobias tightened his grip on the children and pushed them away but realised that they would never get out of the blast range in time.

4 ... He spun around and pushed the children to the ground.

3 ... He turned back. And leaped, landing flat on top of the bomb.

2 ... He closed his eyes.

1 ...

0 ...

Tobias opened his eyes and gingerly looked down to where the bomb was jammed between his body and the concrete floor. The little red LED was blinking. Carefully he lifted himself from the device and looked closer - and gave a sigh of relief. At the very instant of impact, his body had torn one of the wires free, effectively disarming the bomb. He stood, his legs shaking, his breathing erratic. Everything was quite. The people milling around just a few seconds ago were now quiet. They finally realised just how close they had been to death.

An old man walked over to where Tobias was mopping his sweat covered brow with his handkerchief. The man was white haired and had a long beard. Tobias thought of a picture of Tolkien's Galdalf that he had seen when he was at school. The man grinned, his eyes twinkled. In his hands he held a long package wrapped in leather. "Everyone else - every other one chosen - had a chance to live. Except you", the old man said. "Only one willing to sacrifice all is worthy of wielding this ..." and he handed the package to Tobias. "This is Excalibur. The sword of Kings. You were willing to give up your own life in order to give others a chance to live. You are worthy".
Tobias upwrapped the bundle and removed the sword. Its beauty and power took his breath away.
He wrapped his hand around the hilt and said a name.
"Excalibur"





Darkness came, and in that darkness which seemed as if he was travelling a great distance, Tobias sensed the presence of others. He sensed the happiness of Pisky, the humour of Fingal, the sassiness of KayEm and the strong will of Sarah. But there was something more - something undefinable - something linking the five in a way that he had not felt before. It was the swords of course, but exactly how they did this was something to be considered in the future. Because at that very point in time the lights came back on. Those reddish gold lights that seemed to issue from the very walls themselves. And Tobias realised that he was back under Wayland's and his 'team' was with him.

Almost.

The soldier turned to face his companions. Each sported a grin of success on their faces and variously shaped swords in their hands.
"That was amazing !!!" Sarah began, "I just don't ...
"Hang on", Tobias ordered holding up his hand for silence, "Where's Ravenna ?"
"She's not here ?" Fingal looked around fearful for his god-daughter's safety, then after putting 'Erin' through his belt, rushed to the stairs and began to climb.

It was Sarah who found the errant archaelogist. She was lying beside the bole of an oak tree sleeping like a baby. As they reached the tree, Pisky's shadow fell upon her face. Fingal smiled as he saw her stir when the sunlight was blocked by the pixy's shadow.
Her eyes flickered open. "mmmm", she said to herself, still half asleep,"what a nice dream". Then she looked up, saw her companions ranged around her, noticed what they carried and leaped to her feet.
"The swords !!!, she almost shrieked, "How on earth did you get them ??? ... I remember going down into the ... but ... I ... what happened ?".
Fingal put his hand on her arm; "It's a very long story, lass. We'll tell you on the way".
Ravenna looked bewildered; "On the way ? - where to ?"
"Stokesay of course."

Oh look at all you heroes! And I better not be bloody up the duff!! Uck, omlette...

Chapter 29 - Decisions, decisions

"I'm sorry, but the answer has to be 'No'."
Fingal looked at his hands, currently holding tightly onto the reins of his horse; "Even if you ordered me to give up 'Erin' - Even if the Holy Father himself ordered me to do it - I couldn't. And don't ask me why, because I have no answer for you." He lifted his face to gaze on that of Ravenna who rode beside him, her white horse looking almost etheric in the morning mist.
The woman nodded, her long black hair glinting with droplets of water, her blue eyes piercing the hazy air. She sighed and turned away, her jawline clenched as she fought against conflicting emotions. "I understand", she replied, returning her gaze to her godfather, "But you really don't know how important this is. We need the swords. We have people training right now to handle them - to control their power. You and your friends don't even know what they are, let alone what they can do. You have to give them up !"
A lump had formed in Fingal's throat, he swallowed hard. His eyes shone with unformed tears "Gem love, please."
"Don't call me that !" Ravenna snapped. "I am not your little gem any more. You know what I've done to get where I am. You know what I am." She choked off a sob, pulled the reins of her horse and cantered past the group with her head down to hide her tears.

"What the feck was that all about I wonder ?" Pisky asked as he rode beside KayEm some way behind the priest. Fingal's eyes followed his god-daughter as she rode past Tobias and Sarah before kicking her horse into a gallop.
"She looks pissed", KayEm replied as Ravenna disappeared behind a stand of trees.
"Tobias !"
The soldier turned in his saddle as Fingal's voice reached him. He pulled his horse to a stop as the old priest approached, a look of utter misery on his face. "She doesn't understand", Fingal said, running his hand through his shock of white hair, "All she knows is what she's been told. The Vatican wants the swords and Ravenna was sent to get them."
"Why her ?", Tobias asked. "I mean, she's not a nun or anything like that. Is she ?"
Fingal laughed slightly at the thought; "No, she's not a nun."
"So ? ... are you going to spill the beans ?"
Fingal took a deep breath.
"She's probably the most talented Paranormalist alive. There's only one other to match her and he ... went down another path".
Tobias leaned forward over his horse's neck. "A what ? .. Para..."
"Paranormalist", Fingal repeated, "To be concise, she's a Paranormal Archaeologist. She has spent the last ten years hunting down artifacts from the Golden Fleece to the Cauldron of Cerridwen"
"So what you're telling me", Tobias interrupted, "Is that she hunts down 'mythical artifacts'"
Fingal nodded. "She's used to work for a private museum", he said reaching into his saddlebag for a bottle of 'Best Pixyland', "But left after some dispute about the Spear of Longinus. Not long afterwards, the Bishop of my diocese asked me to approach her about getting some relics for his cathedral and she's worked for the Vatican ever since."
"Kind of a real-life Lara Croft without the guns, I suppose", Tobias said.
"If you want to put it that way." Fingal grinned. "Except, unlike Ms Croft, Ravenna can call upon a group of highly trained Vatican mercenaries to ... shall we say ... persuade those who don't wish to part from their relics to 'donate' them to the Vatican."
"Feck me !" Tobias exclaimed. "She looks as if butter wouldn't melt."
Fingal opened the bottle and put it to his lips. He thought for a second and put it down without taking a drink.
"She wants the swords"
Tobias ran his hand across his face; "I expected that", he said, watching as Pisky and KayEm drew near.
"I'm glad you're here", the soldier said as the pixy and his wife arrived on the scene, "I want you to hear this"
Fingal took a drink before beginning.
"Ravenna would definitely be an asset to us at Stokesay", he began, "Believe me, she would. But her head's in turmoil right now because of something that happened just before she left for Waylands. No, I don't know what it was, but whatever it is, it's shaken her badly." The old priest took another drink before continuing. "Whatever it was, it's made her think. There was a time when she would have sent out her 'Ravens' and taken the Swords by force but ..."
"Ravens ?", KayEm asked, interrupting the flow of words from the old priest.
"A group of Vatican mercenaries. As I mentioned to Tobias earlier, they were the iron hand in Ravenna's velvet glove."
"Nice", muttered the pixy sarcastically.
"When I told her that I would even refuse Erin to the Pope", Fingal continued, "I expected her to rail at me. Actually, god-daughter or not, I expected her to send the Ravens after the Swords as soon as I refused her request. Especially after what she told us about the split in the Vatican hierarchy. She told me that the ... lets call them the 'True Believers' ... have a group of people actually practicing to use the Swords. The True Believers obviously know more than they are letting out and yes, I do understand why they are so secretive - they are against the Corporates after all, and that means against most of 'Vatican Inc'. Now, these people, the True Believers, obviously think that they can use the Swords and the powers of the Swords whatever those powers may be. It is Ravenna's task to find the Swords and get them to the True Believers. But for some reason, she's having doubts. And those doubts could make all the difference".

"She's having doubts ?", Tobias inquired tiredly, "Aren't we all ? ... I just don't get this!" He plucked the bottle from Fingal's fingers and took a drink. "What the hell is going on ???", he demanded, "I mean, for fex sake, a year ago it was all normal. The same normal boring status quo we've had for years. The Corporations were there to sell stuff to the people, those same people went to work, popped to the pub on the way home then went back to a cooked dinner and a night in front of the box. There were no strange dreams, no chupacabra, no fecking spooky weird crap like happened with those runestones. No Swords, no 'tests'. And within a couple of months everything's been turned on its head. It's like some warped Hollywood film - plagues, pestilence, fire from the fecking sky ... ", He took a deep breath. "So what the hell's going on, Fingal ? - You're the fecking priest, you talk to God on a daily basis - what's He got to say about it?"
"Tobias, my son", Fingal replied placing his hand onto his companion's shoulder, "If I knew that, I'd be God".

"All we know", said a soft voice from behind Sarah, "Is that so far only Europe has been affected". Having returned, Ravenna pushed her horse close to Fingal's, her eyes red and her voice thick with emotion. "The Americas, Africa, Asia - nothing. No paranormal occurances to speak of. The plague hit everywhere of course as did the Corporations, but only European countries have been affected with paranormal outbreaks". She took a deep breath. "I need to ..."
Fingal placed a hand on her arm. "Gem, I ..."
Ravenna placed a finger against her godfather's lips.
"No - let me speak - please. Before I think too much of what I'm going to do."
Fingal nodded. Everything was quiet. Everyone on tenterhooks.
"My God, I don't believe I'm doing this", Ravenna said in a whisper, then raising her voice she addressed the gathering.
"I know what I'm supposed to do. I know what I should do. I was sent here to find the swords if I could and then to personally accompany them to the Vatican. When I first saw you with them, that is exactly what I planned to do. But I don't feel right doing it. And I don't know why !!!" She ran a hand through her hair and bit her lip.
"I'm coming with you", she said after a slight pause, "And I'm going to watch and listen. I'm not going to report the Swords to my office - at least not right now. I think you deserve a chance."
A single tear rolled down her face as she looked into Fingal's eyes. "Please tell me I'm doing the right thing".
Fingal placed his hand on her arm and smiled. "I would trust these people with my life", he replied, "I'd follow them to Hell and back."
Ravenna wiped her face and gave a little grin.
"then let's go", she said.

Very nice, Mr Pisky, but if you don't give me a sword I'll get the Ravens to beat you up

Pisky,
Absolutely Awesome, Ive had alot of things going on lately and havn't had time to pick up your story, but now I am glad I did!!! The 'tests' were absolutly amazing!! and Im glad Ravenna didn't try and take the swords!!! Pisky, I Have a question for you.... Why aren't you some famous author???? you are really good at this stuff!!!!!
-Sarah

Originally posted by Ravenna
Very nice, Mr Pisky, but if you don't give me a sword I'll get the Ravens to beat you up

Typical - I give you your own personal army and you're still not satisfied

Originally posted by smilingsarah82
Why aren't you some famous author????

Thanks for the vote of confidence Sarah You never know, anything's possible.

Chapter 30 - Red, White and Bloo

It was Loki who first saw the six riders approaching, by dint of being on the roof of the Gatehouse. A metal clip fastening the phone line had come loose and needed fastening again before it became dislodged and tore away their internet connection. Loki had volunteered to repair it, so he it was who first noticed the riders drawing near.

He recognised Tobias instantly and the slight figure of Sarah beside him with what looked like a mug of coffee in her right hand. Pisky and KayEm followed, talking animatedly about something it was best not to ask about while Fingal hung behind with a tallish woman with long black hair who reminded Loki of someone he once saw on televison. Of course it was so long ago that he had forgotten exactly who, but no doubt he would remember soon enough.
Checking that the phone cable was once again secure, Loki walked across the top of the roof like an athlete before squatting at the northern end and yelling friendly abuse at the approaching equestrians.
Looking up at the grinning Loki, Pisky pointed to the shattered top of the South Tower; "Is that your handwork ?" he shouted, assuming that one of Loki's experiments had gone wrong.
"Sod all to do with me", Loki replied, "Hang on." And with that he slid over the rooftiles, grabbed the edge of the eaves and swung himself into the window of the new computer suite. Erisian grinned as he came flying through the window almost landing on Phoebe who growled, displeased at being distracted from her primary task of scrounging one of the hacker's lunchtime sandwiches. "They're back", Loki said perfunctorily before rushing off down the stairs. Erisian therefore decided that now was a good a time as any to have a break and, offering the remaining sandwich to the ravenous dog, followed her companion into the courtyard.

As the ostlers took care of the tired horses and Pisky headed for the storeroom for some cider, Pantha hustled the new arrivals into the hall to congregate beside the fire burning merrily in the hearth. "I see you found them then", she said, pointing to Tobias's newly acquired blade. The soldier smiled and slid Excalibur silently from its sheath to show to his fascinated companions. "Feck me !", Loki whispered almost in awe as the light from the fire was reflected into a myriad fiery shards by the shiny blade of the sword. "Quite so", Fingal replied, his arm around his god-daughter's shoulders, "Feck me indeed. Now, where's that heathen pixy with the cider - we've got a lot of things to tell you"
"So have we", Pantha replied looking towards the infirmary, "So have we."

"So who is this enchanting young lady ?", Loki asked as Fingal drew Ravenna closer to the fire while they awaited the arrival of the pixy. Fingals face turned red with embarassment as he realised that he was yet to introduce his god-daughter to the rest of the Stokesay contingent, and he did so without further ado; "This is Ravenna", he said proudly, "She was working at the Waylands site when we arrived".
"Charmed", said Loki.
"Thank you", Ravenna replied with a blush crossing her cheeks.
"No - Charmed - That's where I saw you. Well, not you obviously. Someone who looks like you. One of the actresses". Now it was Loki's turn to be embarassed.
"I used to get that a lot", Ravenna replied, grinning at the discomfited Loki, "But since she turned redhead, I've been off the hook from autograph hunters".
"Well, that must be a relief." Loki looked around desperate to get out of the situation he found himself in. Fortunately for him the door opened at that very moment and in walked Pisky and Coleman, both holding large bottles of 'Best Pixyland'.
"Drink ?", said Fingal, beaming as the pixy placed one of the bottles onto the table nearest the fire, "Oh yes !!!"
Coleman placed the other bottle on the table as Pantha opened the nearby cupboard and supplied them with nice shiny tankards.

'So they were both in the infirmary ?", KayEm asked after Pantha had described the recent happenings.
"Yes", Pantha replied, "Although LC's much better. I think she's in the Gatehouse."
"She hasn't been there all day", Erisian exlaimed with a worried look on her face, "I hope nothing's happened to her."
"She was in the kitchen with Asala an hour or so ago", Coleman explained, "I didn't exactly see her because I was just passing the door, but I certainly heard her ranting about something".
"That's a relief", Erisian said picking up her tankard and pouring in some cider. "I had visions of her passed out in the toilet block with ..."
"Nothing's happened to me", came LadyCool's exasperated reply from the kitchen doorway, "But the same can't be said for that little git Damien when I get my hands around his scrawny neck ! ... and Pisky, don't say a fecking word !!!. With that, she walked into the sunlight shining through the windows of the hall.
And of course the pixy couldn't help himself; "Feck me, its Morticia !", he quipped with a wide grin on his face as he saw what had happened to the padawan while he was away. Her once blonde 'Reese Witherspoon' hair was now dark blue. That, coupled with her 'post-food poisoning' pale skin combined to make her resemble the televison character that Pisky had mentioned. LC sat down and picked up a tankard, all the while glaring at the pixy with eyes of pure fire.
"So what happened ?", Tobias asked, desperately trying not to follow the pixy's example.
"Well, you probably know by now that I ended up with food poisoning thanks to a rather underdone omlette". She grimaced as she remembered the inevitable results. "I won't bore you with the grisly details, but when Pantha saw the state I was in, she dragged me to the infirmary. Anyway, after three days in bed I felt better but really needed a wash, so I grabbed my soap and shampoo and toddled off for a nice relaxing shower.When I came out, I looked as if I'd been washing with 'Bloo' toilet cleaner !!!." LC glared around the room. Pisky bit his lip, desperately trying to keep a straight face as she continued. "That little git had swapped my shampoo with some blue hair dye he had found somewhere. Probably out of revenge for the thing with the ouija board. I've just been in the kitchen trying to find something to use to get it out. I got it off my skin, but as for my hair - no fecking chance". At this, the pixy finally lost control and started rolling around, laughing (as they say in Cornwall) like a pisky. "Laugh it up, pixy face" LadyCool snapped, then after a particularly heartfelt sigh she leaned back in her chair and started giggling herself.

Placing her half-finished tankard onto the table, KayEm stood; "Time to have a look at Tamsin", she said. "Although if its as bad as you say, I'm not really sure if there's anything I can do." Tobias and Fingal also rose and with resigned looks, followed KayEm to the infirmary.
The change in Tamsin was obvious as soon as they entered. She was white and pasty, her face waxy like the manniquins in the shop Pantha used to run so many months ago. Her eyes glittered, but it wasn't the glimmer of a joyful laugh, nor the shining of loves new blossoming. It was the glitter of a tortured soul being dragged into the darkness of death. Her body was almost skeletal and KayEm had to hold back a tear when Tamsin turned her skull-like face towards her.
"Hi KayEm." The girl's voice was faint and sounded as if coming from the other side of a tunnel. KayEm smiled sadly.
"Tamsin !", she exclaimed, trying desperately to force lightness into her voice. "What have you been doing ?"
"I'm scared", Tamsin cried, reaching her bony arms out towards KayEm. "I don't know what's happening to me."
KayEm moved closer and gathered the fragile body into her arms, all the time murmuring what she hoped were reassurances to the terrified girl.
"Well then", said Fingal, hoping to inject some hope into the situation, "You'll soon be up again now that KayEm's here. In fact bless me if I don't detect a little bit of colour coming into your cheeks right now."
At that Tamsin lifted her head from where it had been nestling on KayEm's shoulder. "She's coming", she moaned. "No ... please help me ... don't let her have ... me ..."
Then her eyes rolled upwards and all hell broke loose.




[edit on 30-10-2004 by Pisky]

OMG what's happening to tasmin????? I can't wait to read the next chapter!!!!!!!!!! And I'm glad all made it back safe and sound!!!! With a new member!!

Man I can't wait for the next chapter.......

*bitting nails*


*tapping foot*


*pulling hair out*


.........................

OMG!

You're trying to give me heartburn, you devious pixy!

Well I prefer Bloo to bloody 'Madam Limpalot' if my ankle packs in one more time...

But on the story side of things *kicks computer* MOOSE DAMMIT THEY'RE FOOOOOLS, FOOOOOOOOOLS I tell you! It's so damn obvious what's happened to Tamsin...wow Pisky, you are good, I'm snackerjacked and I'm raging at the silliness...oooh hehehehehe.

Say it with me now people...1,2,3,4 Pisky's Story we want more; sounddog! 5,6,7,8 we wanna know Stokesay's fate!

Verrrrrry spooky, and just in time for Halloween !

What is going to happen now, I wonder ? Tune in next week, same bat time, same bat channel. Or should that be 'Pixy channel' ? Do you have channels in Pixy Land, Pisky ?

Originally posted by LadyCool21
Well I prefer Bloo to bloody 'Madam Limpalot' if my ankle packs in one more time...

Its old age - you'll just have to get used to it - You'd best order your zimmer frame now so it's ready for when you leave college

I, on the other hand am a youthful Pisky constantly raring to go - especially after a couple of pints of 'Best Pixyland'

Chapter 31 - Pandemonium

"vous pouvez embrasser un cul d'�ne, pr�tre !!!!"
The voice was coming from Tamsin's emaciated body but by no stretch of the imagination could it have been considered her voice. It was hard, powerful, as if coming from someone used to giving orders and expecting those orders to be carried out. Any soft femininity it may have once held had been torn away kicking and screaming, leaving only the cold, heartless voice of a cold, heartless soul.
"b�nissez-vous que le p�re pour vous ont enfreint. Vous maltraitez sexuellement des hamster" said the voice, and a grin of sick satisfaction crossed the young face. The whites of her eyes seemed to shine with an unhealthy radiance as they were turned first to Fingal, then Tobias and finally KayEm.
'What the ... ?" Tobias blurted out, staggering at the pure malevolence issuing from Tamsin's cracked lips. She scowled at KayEm."lib�rez-moi, paysan. Comment le d�fi vous touchent une reine"
KayEm tensed. She didn't understand the words, but the underlying meaning was obvious. Tamsin pushed herself away from KayEm's comforting embrace, to sit proudly on the bed, her back ramrod straight, her face a mask of fury.
"French", Fingal offered, "She's speaking French."
"Vous anglais pensez que vous �tes si sup�rieur. Votre langue est comme l'�corcement des chiens"
"I flunked French", Tobias said, his eyes fastened upon the figure on the bed. "What's she saying ?"
"Let's say she doesn't like priests very much" Fingal said sardonically. "Or Englishmen. Where's Angover ?"
Tobias ran a hand through his short cropped hair;"I think I saw him in the stables when I came in"
"Good", Fingal said. "Keep him away from this room until I've had a chance to talk with him. Now - I think it's time we adjourned to the hall." and with that he strode from the infirmary, followed by his two bemused companions.

"Demonic possession ?!?!? ... are you kidding ?" Tobias started incredulously at the priest, "Couldn't it be multiple personalities or something like that ?"
"No", came the reply. Fingal was sitting beside the fire with his fingers steepled below his chin and a thoughtful look on his face. "Multiple personality disorder, or MPD as it is known in psychiatric circles, requires four preconditions.
Firstly, a life threatening trauma before the age of seven, secondly polarised parents - one kind, one nasty, thirdly polarised siblings with the MPD sufferer having been abused while the others were treated decently and finally the sufferer needs to be Grade V hypnotisable."
"Be what ?" Tobias looked perplexed.
"A "Grade V' person", Fingal explained, "is strongly affected by the emotional states of those nearby. They can't stand being around negative people for long and easily develop what are considered "hysterical" symptoms. Grade V hypnotisable people are the ones most easily put into trance. Stage hypnotists love these people because they don't have to do much work to get them under".
"So what's that got to do with Tamsin"
"Well", the priest continued, "Those are the guidelines used to discover if a person is suffering for MPD or, to use the vernacular, has multiple personalities. Tamsin does not fall into any of the categories listed, let alone all of them, which would be needed for her to have MPD."

Pisky whistled appreciatively at the priest's knowledge. Fingal nodded and continued, "Possession, however is another story. In order to substantiate a case of Demonic infestation, it is necessary for the priest to confirm certain facts. Physical strength, visible conflicts, an opposition to the things of God, clairvoyance, speaking in voices not their own and so on. Tamsin has evinced all but one of those symptoms", he rubbed his face with his gnarled old hands before continuing. "All the evidence points to just one possibility. That poor girl is suffering from demonic possession."
A shiver of unease went through the hall.
"So", Tobias asked, "What next ?"
Fingal lifted his tankard; "Unless the entity possessing Tamsin is removed, I'm virtually certain that she won't have much longer to live. So ...", he took a deep breath, "I will have to perform an exorcism"
"A what ?!?!? - You mean all of that 'power of Christ compels you' stuff ?"
"Near enough, but I plan to use the Latin Rite. I always find the Holy Language to be far more powerful than bog-standard English in case like this."
"You've done an exorcism before ?, LadyCool asked incredulously, "This I have to see"
"I've 'done', as you say, three exorcisms in my time as a priest. During the first two, I was assistant to Father Jack Hackett. For the last one I was the officiating priest'.
"Cool", said LC
"And no, you may not watch. The procedure is lengthy and dangerous. Only myself and my assistant will be present. To allow any 'sightseers' will be counter-productive".
LadyCool crossed her arms and muttered something under her breath. Pisky grinned. LadyCool glared. Pisky hid his face in a tankard of cider.

"Now then", Fingal said "I'm going to need help with the exorcism. I need an assistant - Preferably a Catholic and one who can pronounce Latin correctly." He looked expectantly around the room.
"Sorry", Tobias replied, "I'm C of E"
"Me too", said Pantha, secretly relieved.
"Don't look at me", Loki said, "would someone with my name be a Christian ?"
Fingal nodded; "I know that both KayEm and LadyCool are pagans so they're out. Asala ? - What about you ?"
Asala sat on the edge of her seat clasping a tankard of Best Pixyland as if it was the only thing keeping her sane. She had heard the cold voice of the demon through the open door of the infirmary and found it difficult to reconcile that malevolent sound with the small girl she had been trying to help. She had even gone so far as to dig out a pair of 'Mickey Mouse ears' which she donned in an attempt to entice a laugh from the sick child, but all was in vain. She looked up at the old priest and shook her head. "Sorry", she said.
Fingal put his hand on Asala's shoulder in a show of support before turning to the New Yorker. "Sarah ?"
"You could say that I worship at the altar of the ancient coffee god 'Starbucks' at least ten times a day", Sarah replied with a giggle, "and actually ..." she looked at her watch, "yes, it's time for my devotions." And with that she wandered off to the kitchen in search of caffeine.
Fingal sighed and shook his head. Then, with an air of desperation, he looked directly at the pixy. "Since I can't get a practicing Catholic, I suppose I'll have to settle for an ex-Catholic instead"
"You have got to be joking", Pisky exclaimed almost dropping his tankard.
"Unfortunately not.", the priest replied.
"Hang on - what about Ravenna. She works for the Vatican after all"; Pisky grinned; He was going to get out of this after all.
"Just because she works for the Vatican doesn't mean she's Catholic", Fingal replied. "Actually, she's pagan. She deeply respects the Catholic religion and the Holy Father, as she respects many other religions - but there the connection ends".
"I bet the Pope would be pissed if he found out"
"He already knows. And he thinks that her talents are worth cultivating, plus", Fingal continued with a grin, "he hopes to convert her himself one day."
The old priest lifted his tankard in a salute, "So, my pixyish friend", he said with a flourish, "You're in"
Pisky's face fell. "Oh bugger"
"Bugger indeed."

"In order to assist me", Fingal explained, "You first have to undergo the sacrement of confession. Your soul must be free of all taint, lest the entity recognises it and takes advantage."
Pisky nodded and quaffed his cider, which resulted in a particularly vile belch that sounded more demonic than anything that had ever issued from Tamsin's lips.
Fingal scowled. "No more drink for either of us", he ordered, "not until the ritual is competed."
Pisky sighed and replaced his tankard onto the table, looking at the nearby bottle with longing. Fingal grinned; "Come on, time is wasting and there's a demon just asking to be booted back to Hell", and with that, he led the way out of the Hall and into the nave of St. Philomena's.

As the pixy entered the church, he noticed beside the font a statue of the saint herself. The figure held two arrows and a palm frond in one hand and a rope attached to an anchor in the other. Her black hair fell around her shoulders and on her face was a smile of pure mischeif. Pisky grinned at the statue, remembering the visitation he had experienced during their time in Wayland's Smithy. The statue grinned back and winked. Pisky blinked and shook his head; "I'm really going to have to ease up on the drink", he muttered to himself as he followed Fingal towards the confessional.

The old priest held open the small door on the right side of the confessional. Pisky looked inside and memories from the past came flooding back. Memories of when he was six years of old and making his first confession. He sighed and clambered into the confessional, closing the door behind him. In the darkness, he could just make out the grille that seperated the peninant and the priest, and just above that, a wooden crucifix. He could hear Fingal opening entering his side and closing the door, before beginning the procedure with a prayer.
Once the priest was finished, he urged the pixy to begin.
Taking a deep breath, Pisky dredged up the relevant words from his mind; "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."
"And how long has it been since your last confession, my son ?", Fingal asked, leaning towards the grille in order to hear the pixy's reply.
"I think it was when I was thirteen", came the reply, "So thats ..."
"A considerable amount of time", Fingal broke in. "And what sins have you committed in that time ?"
And the pixy began his confession.


Three hours later

"... set fire to Butthead's porn books. And that's about it".
Fingal sighed in relief. "at last !", he muttered, "I thought we'd be here all night". He turned back to the grille, peering to see the shadowy shape of the pixy before him. "Before I give you your penance, I need you to clarify a couple of things. Was it you who strung Tony Blair up by his genitals from London Bridge last year ?"
"No Father", Pisky replied with a grin, "I merely supplied the rope and fishooks"
"And what about the red hot poker - was that your handiwork ?"
"No ... It was another pixy".
"Another pixy." Fingal sighed again. "Well, I suppose thats about as good as it gets. Officially, after the litany of sins you've committed, I should really give you a thousand Pater Noster's, five hundred Ave Maria's and force you to go on pilgrimage to Rome barefoot - but fortunately for you we just don't have the time."
Pisky grinned from the other side of the grille.
Fingal shook his head in exasperation. "I daresay that after so long you've forgotten the Act of Contrition and the Confiteor ? - No, don't answer that. You do remember the Pater Noster I assume ? Even the pagans know that !"
Pisky grinned again. "Of course", he replied, "My memory isn't that bad".
"I was starting to have my doubts", came the reply as Fingal stretched his cramped knees and prepared to forgive the pixy his sins. Closing his eyes, Fingal spoke the words of forgiveness passed down from priest to priest for almost two thousand years. "Misere�tur tui omn�potens Deus, et, dim�ssis pecc�tis tuis, perd�cat te ad vitam �t�rnam." - May Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to life everlasting.

And with those words eching through the church, Fingal and his pixyish companion exited the confessional, crossed the nave and walked into the unknown.

Dum.dum.dummmmm!!!
Ha, knew it, kneeeeeeew it!! Ahem, nice one!

Hot poker? Not a parasol then...

'3 hours' - Is that it?

Originally posted by LadyCool21
'3 hours'

- Is that it?

I gave the 'concise' version - to have typed the lot would have filled up the ATS servers

Originally posted by LadyCool21
Dum.dum.dummmmm!!!
Ha, knew it, kneeeeeeew it!! Ahem, nice one!

Hey, I worked it out too ! First time ever.
But you never know what deviousness is lurking in the pixie mind. Is anything ever so simple ?
Nice work Pixky

Yeah, see us girls are awfully clever; and there was I thinking a bunch of ravens were going to swoop down on me...*runs off*

the ancient coffee god 'starbucks' huh?!?! very nice!!!
(and i'll have you know, my co-workers have nic-named me java)
i can't wait to see how this exorcism (sp?) goes....
awesome writing pisky!!!


*giggles and runs off to pray to her god for a Venti Caramel Macchiato*

[edit on 11/3/2004 by smilingsarah82]

Coming soon ....

LOL the pixorcist.................
i cant wait for the next chapter..........