The Time Palace of Mars (The Time Travel Diaries of James Urquhart and Elizabeth Bicester) by Macfarlane Bruce

Author:Macfarlane, Bruce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-10T00:00:00+00:00

Part II. The Book of Angels

Chapter Thirteen

J.

We now had or have: a bow with one arrow, possibly made of adamant, a ball of string left in Hell; Puddlewick’s umbrella; Vulcan’s hammer left with Joan; a strange time device and now the Book of Angels.

Normally at this point in my video adventure games, having acquired or sequestered this number of items, I’m well on the way to finishing the game. However, our collection was akin to the dustman dumping a pile of junk in the yard and telling me I’m all ready to fight my way out of Mordor.

Elizabeth was in need of assistance as she was having difficulty in assuming the role of Stealer of the Gods’ Treasures.

“I cannot believe she allowed me to just take her bow and arrow.” she said.

“I can’t believe you’ve taken two things off those beings without any resistance.” I said.

“I do not know what possessed me. They just upset me so much when they persist in referring to me as your doxy.”

“Yes, but I’d rather you were my doxy than someone else’s.”

“James! You are incorrigible!”

And she put her arms round me which made me wish I was somewhere else. Which was difficult because as I caressed her back, I noticed Puddlewick was staring at us with the look of someone who'd just opened the wrong door to the loo at a party.

“They are not gods or goddesses, are they?” she whispered in my ear.

“No.” I said gently releasing her. “But I think we need to get out of here.”

“Why? Because the distractions are too distracting?”

“No. Because Lord John might actually turn up.”

We immediately rushed for the door to escape only to find that the door to Lord John’s private chamber was locked.

“How did Artemis bring us here?” said Elizabeth.

“Too quick for me. There must be another entrance that she came through. Maybe it’s behind one of these paintings.”

However, Lord John, in his quest to ensure the paintings weren’t removed to fall into the hands of less discerning art critics had nailed them firmly to the walls.

Puddlewick suggested we try the point of his umbrella and Artemis’ adamant arrow which she had used to enter the fresco.

We tried prodding the walls with the umbrella point and then Artemis’ arrow, but with no effect.

We were stuck. There were no windows and the candles looked like they were on their last legs. Then we heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

This was followed by a rather heated discussion in frantic whispers amongst the three of us as to what excuse we might use for being in Lord John’s chamber. Which was rather difficult as the convincing reason for why we were in there had mysteriously vanished.

Our whispering stopped about the same moment as we heard, or didn’t hear to be scientifically correct, the absence of footsteps outside the door.

A moment passed, while we all strained our ears in the silence, praying that the footsteps would continue.

Then we heard a key scraping in the lock and the door opened.

---~---

E.

It was with some relief to see Joan, standing there, carrying a large sack.

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