Brotherhood of Shades. Dawn Finch

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      “Oh, we have technology,” D’Scover said to a stunned Adam. “We have plenty of technology.”

      The sparks spread out and Adam stumbled backwards in the darkness, trying to move out of their reach, but D’Scover grabbed for his arm and pulled him into the enveloping neon light. Adam twisted around in panic as the sparks grasped at him and began to swarm over his arm. Once the first lick of sparks had touched his arm, he became rapidly absorbed in a swift wave of blue crackling light, and then was gone . . . All that remained was a red spiral that shimmered in the darkness for a second and vanished.

      “Whoa, now that was amazing!” Adam gasped. “How did we do that? Where the hell are we?”

      He now stood, staring at his arms and legs as though checking they were still all of the required number, in a darkened office high up, looking down on the blinking lights of the city.

      “Just a tweak on your friend technology, and we are in my offices,” D’Scover answered. “When we Disperse, we can take advantage of the Internet, telephone lines, wireless connections, all manner of electronic systems; it is just a question of opening the right pathway and sliding in.”

      “Can anyone do it? I mean, can anyone dead do it?”

      “No,” D’Scover explained, busying himself at his desk. “It is a difficult procedure and one that is exclusively managed by the Brotherhood.”

      “The Brotherhood?”

      “Take a seat,” D’Scover gestured towards the couch, “I have a lot to explain.”

      Adam turned, taking in D’Scover’s private collection. “Is this some kind of art gallery?”

      “No, as I said, this is my office.”

      “Tasteful,” Adam grinned. “You must earn a mint.”

      “I earn no money for what I do,” D’Scover replied.

      “Still, looks like you don’t exactly go without though, do you?”

      “There is nothing I require, no.”

      Adam flopped down on the couch and leaned back into a softly yielding corner of the large piece of furniture.

      “Very classy, comfy. None of your superstore rubbish here, eh?”

      “Adam,” D’Scover’s voice had taken on an even more sombre tone, “I am prepared to give you the answers that you need.”

      “That’s all very well, Mr Mysterious,” replied Adam, “but I don’t know what the questions are, do I? Can I have a clue?”

      D’Scover sighed. “Maybe if I explained more about the Brotherhood, you would have a greater understanding.”

      “Worth a shot.” Adam swivelled round to put his feet up on the couch and rested his hands behind his head. “Let’s give it a go.”

      “I will not be explaining this in the conventional fashion; it is a little more complicated than I have time for. I will use a technique I developed for the Brotherhood.”

      “You’re the boss,” Adam quipped. “Bring it on.”

      “Adam, please try to take this seriously.”

      “I am.” Adam sat up again. “Honest, I’ll be serious.”

      D’Scover turned from him and made a gesture in the air with his fingers. The chair from his desk swivelled round and slid across the room towards him and he sat down, facing Adam.

      “You have to show me how to do that stuff.” Adam pointed at the chair. “That is too cool.”

      “Close your eyes and listen carefully to my voice.” D’Scover ignored Adam’s comment and carried on. “Let the images come into your mind and do not resist anything that happens.”

      “Well, that all sounds totally creepy, but if you say so.” Adam half closed his eyes and rested his head on the cushions of the couch.

      “In the sixteenth century,” D’Scover began, “Europe was ruled then as now by kings and politics, but disease and poverty were its real masters and had been so for centuries. Plague still marched across the civilised world and poverty was both companion and assistant to this horror.”

      D’Scover’s voice had fallen to a soft tone that lulled Adam into listening closely, and as he did so, he realised that the edges of the room had begun to blur. He could no longer make out every word that D’Scover was saying, and felt he must be falling asleep. Shadows walked at the edges of his vision and dark shapes loomed around them. The shadows gradually began to take a stronger shape and he could see that they were people in simple, ragged clothes moving between dirty, rustic buildings. Soon the office had faded completely to be replaced by a perfect tableau that looked as if it had fallen from the pages of a history book.

      Adam turned about himself with a start and looked upon a scene that was apparently solid and real; he marvelled at the detail of his dream. He jumped back in fear as a cart rumbled past him along a muddy road, throwing up a shower of earth and water, and realised this was more than just a vision. He looked down at his legs and saw that the filthy water had passed straight through him. The people around him were not the illusion here – he was.

      Around him everyone carried on with their daily grind of work, but to Adam it looked as though food was not part of this equation. The people were thinner than anyone he had ever seen. Even in the homeless hostels and crowded doorways of London no one had looked as near to death as the gathering he saw before him. Children carried baskets of wood past him and Adam could see nothing but the spectre of a young death in their grey faces. He walked on, turning away as the pathetic wretches came close to him. He knew how it must have been for those who had once passed him by in the streets towards the end of his own life. It was not that they didn’t care, just that they didn’t know what to do to make it better.

      Forcing himself to watch, he continued through the village, stepping over rivers of human waste as he went, despite the fact that he knew it could not touch him. Some of the villagers staggered from house to house with dirty bandages flapping from their diseased limbs. Others recoiled in horror as they passed and clutched their filthy sleeves to their faces in a pathetic attempt to prevent infection. Adam knew from the rough plague crosses daubed on many doors that in these shabby houses lay the sick and dying.

      D’Scover’s words hung in the air, a soft rhythm of sound that throbbed and built up this world of pestilence further.

      “Villages . . . struggled . . . poverty . . . plague . . . feudal lords . . . controlled . . . population . . . iron grip.” D’Scover continued with his speech and as Adam listened to the soft, intermittent music of his voice around him, there unfolded a world as vivid and real as the one Adam had once lived in.

      “Plague . . . stronghold . . . weakened population . . . no resistance. Travelling . . . Europe . . . rats . . . decimated . . . cities . . . too few alive to bury . . . dead . . . superstition . . . ghosts stalked . . . living . . . demons . . . assumed . . . control . . . damned . . . village. Time passed . . . spectre of disease . . . rose from the darkness . . . slaughter more and more people . . . religious houses . . . met . . . discuss . . . solution.”

      Adam СКАЧАТЬ