Authors: Nick Spalding
‘Necessary? No. Fun? You
betcha
,’ Max held up his broken hand by way of explanation.
‘That’s enough questions for the time being,’ Merelie announced. ‘Max is hurt and needs some medical attention. Father?’
‘Yes?’
‘Order the Chapter Guards to prepare a litter. I want Max taken to the infirmary as soon as possible.’
Jacob, knowing not to argue when Merelie used such an imperious tone, beckoned over a group of guards and issued them with new orders.
A few minutes later, a bemused Max Bloom - who felt he was quite capable of walking - was being borne aloft by several armoured guards and carried down to the Chapter House infirmary, accompanied by a fussing Merelie Carvallen.
Garrowain had also left the clean-up to return to the trashed Library. He took both Cornerstones with him, under strict instructions from Jacob to place them under constant guard.
The custodian was already thinking that the derelict section of the Library they’d trapped Borne in would make an excellent place to keep the Morodai book, should its owner ever make a bid to return.
Merelie’s Arma had made off to the barracks to arrange the first watch of Chapter Guards that would take on the job.
This left a rather awkward Jacob Carvallen standing with his estranged sister. They hadn’t been alone in the same room for decades and a deathly silence descended. Neither could think of anything constructive to say.
Eventually, Imelda felt the need to break the tension.
‘Halia seems comfortable in command,’ she remarked.
Jacob looked over at where his wife was ordering prisoners escorted to the Chapter cells. ‘Yes, she’s a fine woman.’
More silence.
Jacob kicked a piece of rubble.
‘I fancy taxes will have to go up in the short term to pay for repairs to the city,’ he forecast.
‘Mmmm.’
‘The citizens won’t be pleased, but they've just been saved from certain death, so shouldn’t have grounds to protest too much.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘You played your part in that, Emerelda… in saving us, I mean.’
‘Yes, I know.’
Jacob looked down at his feet. ‘I shouldn’t have exiled you.’
‘No, you shouldn’t.’
‘It seemed the right thing to do at the time. I was young - father’s death still hung heavily on me and you were saying… saying some very controversial things.’
Imelda rolled her eyes. ‘Oh for God's sakes, Jacob. I was young and stupid too. We both said and did things we’d later regret.’ She patted him on the shoulder.
He gave her a shy smile. ‘Will you help me rebuild this place?’ Jacob asked.
Emerelda Carvallen sighed. Men could be such little boys sometimes.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pleasure at the prospect of coming home. She’d miss Earth, but the thrill of being a librarian in an under funded suburban library had waned in recent years.
Emerelda figured somebody else could be in charge of the overdue fines from now on.
- 8 -
Lucas Morodai sighed with relief as his Cornerstone transported him away from Max Bloom and the ruined Library. He wasn’t a man that scared easily, but the extent of the boy’s power had been colossal.
He’d escaped with his hide more or less intact though, and while there was breath in his body, Lucas Morodai was a threat to anyone, no matter how powerful.
He’d lick his wounds and plan a counter-attack - which would begin by dealing with that boy…
Something was wrong.
Morodai had expected to appear in the grand and ostentatious castle he’d built with the sweat and blood of a thousand slaves.
Instead, he found himself floating in space - a sickly purple ocean, boiling and churning all around him, punctuated with silver specks of light.
Max would recognise this place.
Morodai did too and fear sent a sheet of ice down his spine.
At the periphery of his vision, he saw dark and smoky shapes start to crowd around, examining this new intruder into their cold, dark world.
There weren’t just hundreds or thousands of them.
There were
millions
.
In his dread, he fancied he could see faces beginning to form - all of them looking extremely angry… and eternally
hungry
.
- 9 -
Max Bloom flexed his mended left hand and decided the next time he was a bit under the weather, he’d forego the usual visit to the doctors and pop over here using his new buddy The Cornerstone.
Speaking of which, the book now resided in Garrowain’s Library hub room, along with its Morodai counterpart. It probably didn’t need to be there, but the custodian thought the extra security measure couldn’t hurt. He’d given it a rather plush new cushion to sit on, by way of a reward for recent efforts.
Six Carvallen Wordsmiths were permanently stationed in the room, watching for any signs indicating Lucas Morodai’s return. Not that it was likely.
Across the Chapter Lands, some semblance of normality was beginning to reassert itself.
The citizens of all the Houses that came into conflict with Morodai were returning to their homes and beginning the long process of cleaning away the detritus caused by the invasion.
Those unlucky enough to have been mind-eaten by the Dwellers were being cared for - though the question of what to do with them in the long run was yet to be answered.
The people who were saved when the Dwellers were ripped out by the Morodai Cornerstone were more fortunate and most were recovering well from their ordeal. None of them were likely to be wearing purple any time soon though.
Bethan Falion was one, and after some profuse thanks to Max Bloom, she returned home to oversee the rebuilding of her House. She hadn’t mentioned the education of her citizens again, but Emerelda had held a private conversation with the Chapter Lord, sending her away with some hard thinking to do.
All in all, the aftermath was being dealt with as best it could be.
The populace could only hope that lessons had been learned and that there wouldn't be a repeat performance of this catastrophic chain of events any time soon. The cleaning bills alone should be enough to put anyone off the idea.
All of this was well and good, but Max Bloom couldn’t give a monkey’s about any of it. He was feeling homesick and anxious to get back as soon as possible.
He’d put the finishing touches to an elaborate cover story and was looking forward to giving it an airing with his mother… and the local authorities, if needs be.
Jacob Carvallen and his daughter wanted to stage a meal in his honour. This sounded like a nice idea, but Max was impatient about getting back to his boring little life and persuaded them not to. He knew it would take days to organise it - and he’d have to dress up smart for the bloody thing as well.
Anyway, a great send off didn’t seem all that appropriate.
He figured he’d be probably back here again sooner or later. Imel…
Emerelda
had made it quite clear he needed some proper tuition in Wordcraft at the Carvallen Academy. He’d started to argue, but stopped when he saw the look on her face. It could have curdled milk.
There was one final problem he had to face before popping off though, in the shape of a pretty sixteen year old girl.
Currently, she was holding his hand as they walked through the Library to where Garrowain waited to send him home.
Max knew all too well that this was the end of their adventure and he was acutely aware it was about the time he should be kissing Merelie goodbye.
She was also aware of this.
Embarrassment levels were at critical mass.
‘Will you come back?’ she asked, slowing her pace.
‘Um… yeah, if that’s ok. I wouldn’t mind a bit more training in this Wordcraft stuff. I don’t want to sneeze one day and blow the top of my head off.’
‘I doubt you’d do that,’ she smiled. ‘But learning how to control it more would be a good idea. I’m sure Garrowain and Emerelda will help.’
Max had said goodbye to the woman who’d retaken her true name some ten minutes earlier. It hadn’t been a heartfelt farewell - that just wasn’t the nature of their relationship. Instead, she had shaken his hand in a brisk manner and wished him well.
‘You’re stopping here, then?’ he’d asked.
‘For the time being. My brother’s asked for help in restoring this place and I’d rather avoid any uncomfortable questions from the Farefield police. I’m sure I’ll have to come back at some point though, so keep The Cornerstone safe.’
And that had been that.
Max had also said goodbye to Borne and the others he’d encountered on this strange and perplexing journey, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.
There was something extremely awkward about saying farewell to people who owed you their lives. The looks of gratitude made him want to curl up and die with embarrassment. He was aware that he'd gained a level of celebrity across the Chapter Lands and wanted to get out of town before people started asking for his autograph.
That just left Merelie and the bloody kiss.
They stopped at the junction leading to The Cornerstone’s new home and Max did some feet shuffling.
‘I really am grateful for everything you’ve done, you know,’ Merelie said, moving closer and making his beetroot red face go a shade even more scarlet.
‘S’not a problem.’
‘I’m so glad The Cornerstone chose you,’ she said, touching his arm.
‘Me too.’
‘Come back soon, ok?’
‘Will do.’
‘Stay safe over there.’
‘Okay.’
This wasn’t getting her anywhere, so Merelie took control of the situation.
She put her hands on both sides of his face and kissed him in such a way that it made all the ridiculous, dangerous and painful stuff he’d been through in the past few weeks
completely
worth it.
- 10 -
Nugget, ever watchful guard dog and farter of epic proportions, sat up on the futon Charlie had dragged down from the spare room and barked.
The old man jumped, dropping a garibaldi into his cup of tea.
‘Nuggie!’ he scolded, trying to fish the biscuit out without burning his fingers.
Nugget barked again and pointed his snout at a place halfway up the bookcase next to Charlie’s chair.
The Cornerstone was glowing.
‘Oh blimey!’ Charlie exclaimed and pulled the book out.
He laid it flat on the coffee table just in time for Max Bloom to appear in a blaze of silver light, spilling the plate of biscuits onto the carpet, which had only just been vacuumed.
The only one happy about this was Nugget, who knew that anything ending up on the floor was his to eat by default. The black Labrador tucked into the biscuits as Charlie stood up, a huge smile on his face.
‘Maxwell!’ he cried, putting his arms around his grandson.
‘Wotcha, Grandad,’ Max replied, beaming back.
‘You’ve been gone for days! Your mother’s been having kittens.’
‘Really? Crap.’
Max hoped his cover story would hold up under his mother’s scrutiny.
‘Did the coppers catch up with you?’ he asked Charlie.
‘They did indeed. I had to do my best doddering old geezer impression. Gas explosions can be quite a handy excuse in the right circumstances. I think they went away happy with the story I regaled them with.’
Nugget, who had wolfed down every garibaldi in sight, now turned his attention to Max, giving him a friendly whack in the testicles.
‘I trust everything worked out well?’ Charlie asked. ‘Order restored, villains vanquished, fair maidens saved and the good folk of the Chapter Lands able to rest easy in their beds once more?’
‘Er… yeah, more or less. It was touch and go for a while, but it all got sorted. I pretty much rocked, that was the main thing.’
‘Excellent, my boy. I knew you had the wherewithal to rise to the challenge. I expected nothing less of you.’ Charlie paused. ‘One thing still remains a poser, though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Yonder strange tome, lying at your feet.’
Max bent down and picked up The Cornerstone.
He supposed he should take it back to the library, but without Emerelda there, that probably wouldn’t be the best place for it.
‘You know what, Grandad?’ Max glanced around Charlie’s rich collection of books. ‘I can’t think of a better place for it than right here.’
‘Then by all means, young man,’ Charlie replied with a flourish, ‘place it somewhere appropriate and fetch more biscuits from the pantry, if you’d be so kind!’
Max looked up and saw a space perfect for The Cornerstone.
He slid it in next to Jack London’s Call of the Wild.
The Cornerstone seemed happy with this, as it glowed softly for a moment, before the light dimmed, and it became just another book in a world of millions.
The End
Author’s Note
One drizzly, dull Thursday afternoon I was off work and had a whole lot of nothing to do. Having exhausted the entertainment possibilities of daytime television, I thought I’d pop to the local library to kill an hour or so - and maybe find a good book to while away my time with.
I didn’t find a decent book worth reading in the end, but I did come away with an idea for one worth writing…
As I was browsing the somewhat dubious selection on offer, I pulled out a novel that looked like it had a particularly exciting cover and flicked through the first few chapters. About twenty pages in, I saw this epithet written in pencil in the margin: ‘This book is terrible. Stop reading it now.’ I took this advice, deciding that if somebody had taken the time to put such a warning in the book, it was probably worth paying attention to - and I put the novel back on the shelf.
I left the library bookless in the end, but that pencilled note in the margin stayed with me - and started me thinking… what if it hadn’t been a random message about the book’s quality, but a cry for help from a stranger? How would I have reacted to that? Would I have taken it seriously? And if so, what would I have done about it? These questions formed the basis for the opening of The Cornerstone. I had no idea where the story would go, but I wanted to put a character in my imagined scenario and find out what would happen to him.