Zein: The Prophecy Page 25

  Who is he, can he stop this madness?

  Lord Fathom looked at the men in front of him, weighing up what Tyson had said to him. The decision to release the men from their hypnotic state was his, although Tyson did not quibble; he had found it tiring to keep that mental connection with so many minds. Lord Fathom knew that this decision weakened his options for the next phase of the conflict. Elme had informed him that he had around six hundred men fit for battle. Zylar had between twenty and twenty- five thousand men to draw upon, including the Ilsid troops in and around the Southern Quadrant Palace. He needed more men.

  ‘You are in the presence of Lord Fathom. Kneel as befitting his rights as one of the royal bloodline,’ said Elme, standing to one side of the throne area. No one moved. There were sullen expressions on each and every face. ‘Guards…,’ Elme started to say, stepping forward impatiently, and then saw Lord Fathom’s hand raised to stop him. Elme stopped in his tracks and awaited instructions.

  ‘Officers of the Eastern Quadrant army, I understand your reluctance to kneel and I respect your allegiance to Lord Malacca,’ said Lord Fathom in his customary smooth delivery. ‘I would like you to listen to a young man, a human who is also part of the Royal Blackstone Clan. I would ask you to hear him out and then decide whether you pledge both your and your regiment’s fealty to our cause.’

  Despite their reluctance the officers’ eyes automatically looked at Tyson, taking in his size, blue eyes and presence. They had seen what he had done on the battlefield and were wary of what else he was capable of doing.

  Tyson stood. He was nervous. In front of him were uncompromising faces of seasoned warriors. He caught some of their thoughts, which did not augur well for their reaction to what he was going to say. He focused on the man in front, whose arm was in a sling. He had read his initial thoughts as he came into the hall. He had registered that this soldier was worn down by the course the war had taken. He was leaderless and he was the type of person who needed a leader. He listened to Lord Fathom’s introduction and now felt under intense pressure to deliver.

  Is he the One? the man in the sling thought, keeping his face impassive.

  Yes, I think I am, Tyson replied. There was a slight frown on the otherwise impassive face when he heard this respond echo in his mind.

  You can read my mind I see. I can stop that, the man in the sling said and Tyson could only see static where clear thoughts had existed Tyson cleared his thoughts and spoke. ‘Over the last week I have learned many things about Zein. I have seen bravery in those fighting for what they believe in, I have seen wonderful feats of engineering and technology and I see a world different but now entwined with my world.’ He settled his breathing which had started off fast. ‘My world is under great threat from a man you know as Zylar. He wants to conquer Earth and by doing so kill billions of people and destroy the environment you and I live in.’ Tyson watched for any sense of change in the group before him. There was not a flicker.

  ‘We….no, I need your help. You have a Prophecy that says that one day, someone who is not of your world, but has the magics, will bring worlds together and free Zein. I am that man,’ said Tyson, his body beginning to glow from the emotion he was feeling.

  There were gasps from the officers and other people in the hall to what he had said. Amelia watched, both proud and scared. Bailey felt his friend slipping away from him. Where was Tyson Mountford?

  Tyson gauged that the spirit in the room had changed and now he went for the jugular. ‘You fought for a man who conquered your lands, enslaved your people and made you attack and kill innocent people. Will you fight for a man who will set you free, give you back your lands on Earth and take you to your homeland to start again? My name is Tyson Blackstone and I am here to fight with and for you.’

  The Fathom Royal Guard and Elders in the room cheered. The Eastern Quadrant army soldiers shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to cheer or to ignore the rousing speech. Tyson knew it rested on Cronje’s reaction. Lord Fathom quietened his men down, though he himself was enthused with this remarkable human. Tyson just watched Cronje. He still could not read his thoughts.

  Cronje studied the young man in front of him. He could not help be impressed, he was a soldier and he followed orders, even orders that he knew were wrong. He turned to Hechkle.

  ‘Do you back this Blackstone boy?’ he asked. Lord Fathom snorted and was going to launch into a tirade at Cronje; Tyson caught his eye with a brief shake of his head. Hechkle was lazily leaning against the wall and on receiving the question pushed his body off it.

  ‘I have fought with him and seen no one like him before. He has my seckle.’ Hechkle drew his seckle and placed it cross-handed against his chest. To a man every other Fathom soldier did the same. Cronje watched and thought of his response.

  ‘We will not fight against our own clan but will look to convince our fellow brethren to join us,’ Cronje said.

  ‘We understand and agree,’ Tyson replied without hesitation.

  Cronje took one step forward and then knelt on one knee and bowed his head, making the same cross-handed fealty gesture as Hechkle, minus the weapon. There was a slight pause then, after looking at each other briefly, the other Eastern Quadrant army officers went down on one knee, copying Cronje.

  ‘Set these officers and the remaining Eastern Quadrant army soldiers free,’ Lord Fathom ordered. He pointed to Cronje. ‘You, we would like you to join in our council discussions. Bring your second in command.’ Cronje selected a hulking figure called Reddash to join him.

  They sat at the end of the main table of the Inner Council. Elme joined them and, before they could stop them, Bailey and Amelia.

  ‘We are part of this as well as you are,’ said Bailey, challenging Tyson.

  His friend smiled back with a touch of concern knowing his friend was worrying about his parents and for a moment Bailey had his friend back.

  When they reviewed the options open to them it didn’t take long as they had very few. Cronje would teleport with Reddash near the Southern Quadrant barracks outside the Palace and parley with the Eastern soldiers. They wouldn’t agree to the other released Eastern soldiers accompanying the Fathom army without them. The only help the Fathom army would receive from the Easterners would be if Cronje and Reddash were successful in their quest.

  As they left, Lord Fathom turned to Hechkle, who had joined them. ‘Do you trust this Cronje to keep his word?’

  Hechkle looked down at the floor in thought and then, ‘Yes, he has no allegiance to any other Lord. He has a reputation for toughness but also fairness.’

  ‘I can’t hear any negative or conflicting thoughts,’ said Tyson, although he didn’t admit that he could no longer read Cronje’s thoughts but fed off Reddash’s positive thoughts.

  Bailey shook his head, listen to him. Lord Fathom seemed very pleased.

  ‘I will go with Tyson, Amelia and Bronstorm and meet with the British Defence Minister and see if I can convince her to pull together a force to help us,’ said Lord Fathom. Evelyn, I leave you in charge to work with Bailey and Hechkle to coordinate my troops.’ They all signalled their agreement, Bailey resenting that he was not going with Tyson.

  ‘No time to lose, you said you have the coordinates for the Defence Minister, Lord Fathom?’ asked Tyson.

  ‘Yes, we collect all the DNA of any Defence Minister for any country as well as other senior statesmen, just in case,’ he replied. One of the other Elders walked into the Throne Room and up to Lord Fathom. There was an urgent exchange and a broad grin spread across Lord Fathom’s face. He gave his thanks to the Elder; Tyson couldn’t remember his name.

  Lord Fathom looked at Tyson and said triumphantly, ‘We have intercepted a communication from the Eastern Quadrant Palace to Zylar; they say they are under attack by a small terrorist team.’

  ‘Kabel!’ Both Bailey and Tyson said the name at the same time.

  ‘That’s great news,’ Evelyn said.

  ‘Right, let’s move,’ s
aid Lord Fathom. The small group, having received their orders, began to act upon them.

  Chapter 28

  New Alliances

  Victoria Kirk’s life had changed beyond all recognition. Since the abduction and slaying of the Prime Minister she had found herself at the centre of attention. The Deputy Prime Minister, Charles Hamilton, had called an emergency meeting of COBRA as soon as the Prime Minister had been taken. Around the table were all the senior land, sea and air generals and the main Government heavyweights. They had Walter Moore patched in from their embassy in Washington. He had just finished the shocking appraisal of what had happened when there was a loud pop. Standing next to Victoria Kirk were four people – three men and one woman.

  ‘Security!’ said Victoria, fearing a replication of what had happened in Washington. MI5 agents in the room pulled out their guns and held them steady on the intruders. The door of the room opened and another four armed police burst in holding their semi-automatic rifles for action.

  ‘Please don’t be scared,’ said the tall man with astonishing blue eyes, ‘my name is Tyson Mountford and I am British. This is Lord Fathom, who is Lord of the Fathom Clan from Zein, Amelia Briggs, who is British like me, and this is Bronstorm, a Zein warrior.’ Bronstorm gave a flourishing bow. Victoria looked more closely at the four interlopers. Two were dressed in normal jeans but with some kind of green body armour on, and the Zein warrior was dressed in green tight fitting body armour and a green cloak, but it was the larger than life figure of Lord Fathom that dominated the room.

  ‘We are not about to lower our arms when we have seen thousands killed,’ said Charles Hamilton. Lord Fathom knew he had to disarm the men. If they let off a shot at what they thought was an aggressive movement all would be lost. Lord Fathom summoned his magics and sent a ball of energy in all directions in front of him. The MI5 agents covered their eyes and then Bronstorm moved like lightning. He disarmed the two agents and whilst the soldiers at the door were adjusting their eyes his seckle cut through their gun barrels. It was over in seconds. The ministers were rigid with shock at the turn of events.

  Tyson entered each and every mind in the room.

  We do not mean you any harm.

  We are here to help. Please listen to us.

  The soothing words calmed the humans to a certain extent. Other soldiers were rushing to the room and tensions were still high.

  ‘Deputy Prime Minister, if I may say something,’ a voice said over the video conference line. Charles Hamilton remembered that Walter Moore was still on the line and could see everything that was happening. He waved his hand for Walter to speak, his eyes fixated on the seckle held by the alien warrior. Walter continued, ‘If I am not mistaken this is the man on that YouTube video who both lifted that car off that cyclist and was on the stadium footage.’

  The men and women round the table looked more closely at the tall figure who had stood back from the action and recognition came quickly. Tyson had let events unfold; now he thought it was time to push home the advantage.

  ‘Yes, that was me in my hometown of Altrincham. The massacre at Old Trafford was caused by Zylar hunting us down.’ There were gasps of shock.

  Lord Fathom decided that it was time for his political weight to be introduced into the conversation. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am Lord Fathom of the royal lineage of the Fathom Clan, which stretches back some thousand years. I am the keeper of the zinithium that powers our ships, weaponry and everyday life. I and all my people are at your service.’ He finished with a deep bow.

  Charles Hamilton stood up to face Lord Fathom and Victoria Kirk motioned for the newly arrived soldiers to lower their weapons. He looked round the room and decided that he had to take a risk. ‘On behalf of the United Kingdom and the rest of the world I welcome you to Earth.’ He held out his hand; Lord Fathom hesitated initially, as it was not a usual action for a Zein, but he then took the offered hand and shook it. Amelia had a lump in her throat; it was hard not to be moved by the actions of the two dignified men.

  Charles then turned to Tyson. ‘Mr Mountford, I would ask that you take us through everything that has happened, please don’t leave anything out.’ Four chairs were provided for the companions and they sat down facing the eager faces of their audience. Tyson told them everything. He started with Kabel, his personal link to the Zeinonians, what had really happened at Old Trafford, the events at the Core, that his mother was also a prisoner and the recent news of the intercepted communication that confirmed there was an attack on the command and control centre in the Eastern Quadrant Palace.

  Victoria and Charles asked a few questions to clarify points. However, apart from that the audience was silent, enthralled by this cascade of new information. On the description of the battle with the Eastern Quadrant army the generals edged forward taking in every element of the fascinating story. When Tyson had finished he was exhausted; the last few days had weakened him. He had not noticed that the use of the magics was destabilising him and he needed time to recuperate.

  ‘Can you please show us the seckle,’ Charles asked Tyson. He pulled out the seckle and activated the weapon. ‘Thank you, Mr Mountford. Now you said you had these “magics” that the aliens have.’

  ‘Zeinonians,’ corrected Tyson.

  ‘Yes, yes, apologies Lord Fathom, no offence intended.’

  ‘None taken,’ Lord Fathom replied.

  Victoria allowed her frustration to boil, ‘Mr Mountford, you tell us an incredible story of “magics” and undersea worlds but all I know is that nearly ten thousand people are dead in Manchester, millions in New York and our own Prime Minister slaughtered on television!’ Tyson’s gaze never left her face and he read the unspoken thoughts, the real fear, and uncertainty. ‘Therefore you must expect us to ask for a demonstration of these so called “hybrid” magics?’

  Amelia looked at Tyson worriedly. She could see he was tired; it had been a very stressful few days. ‘Look, you can see he is shattered, why put him under more unnecessary stress!’ she spoke out in his defence.

  ‘Leave it Amelia, I understand that they need proof before they will help us,’ he said wearily. He stood up and allowed his frustration with what had happened to him, his worry for his mother to drive his magics. The hazy blue glow flickered and then burst into light around his hands and then spread over his body. A couple of the MI5 agents made a move to their guns they had re-holstered. The Defence Minister shook her head at them and they dropped their hands to their sides. Tyson’s body had enough and he slumped back down onto his chair and the force-field evaporated. Amelia hooked an arm round his.

  ‘I think he has had enough!’

  Charles put a hand up in agreement and apology. ‘We had to see for ourselves before we commit to any plan you may have.’ He stood up and poured a glass of water and handed it across to Tyson. He took it gratefully.

  Charles sat down and locked his hands together before resting them on his lap. His intelligent eyes met Tyson’s. ‘So, Lord Fathom, Mr Mountford, what is your plan?’

  It was Tyson who went through the size of their force and the weapons they had. He then explained how many soldiers they had potentially against them.

  ‘You stand no chance, young man,’ said General Sir Daniel Clifton. Chief of Staff of the British armed forces.

  ‘We do have a plan to nullify the men in the barracks.’ He explained that Cronje and some of his most trusted officers would teleport directly into the barracks and attempt to convince their fellow officers to join with them.

  ‘That’s a lot of “maybes”, young man. If they don’t you would leave our forces exposed,’ Sir Daniel Clifton challenged back. ‘How much can you trust this Cronje man?’ he pushed.

  ‘One of my most trusted companions who have fought against him says it is inbuilt for him to honour agreements, Sir.’

  ‘Not much good if the others don’t though, eh, lad?’ said the sceptical Chief of Staff.

  ‘I don’t think we have much choice, Sir Clifton
,’ Victoria Kirk interjected. She turned to the Deputy Prime Minister. ‘Charles, my view is we need to help.’

  ‘I agree. Daniel, how many infantry troops can we pull together within the next three hours?’

  The Chief of Staff went into deep thought and then said, ‘It’s not going to be easy, we do have the Scots Guards at Catterick in Yorkshire who have just finished their tour of Afghanistan and they alongside The Rifles should provide a force of around five thousand at short notice. Would we be able to provide armoured mechanised support?’ he said looking at Tyson.

  It was Lord Fathom who answered in his unusual Zeinonian accent, ‘No tanks or vehicles could be teleported.’ He saw the alarm on the General’s face and realised a longer explanation was needed, ‘we would have to create an emergency transportation portal for your soldiers to travel down to the Core portal and then once together we could use the greater strength and capacity of that portal to send the force to the Southern Quadrant. The emergency portal can only carry ten people at a time……’

  Sir Clifton listening to the Zeinonian and then animatedly sat forward. ‘Deputy Prime Minister, I would also suggest that we contact the Americans. They have elements of their First Infantry Regiment undertaking NATO manoeuvres with the Scots Guards, pretty sure after what happened earlier they would want to play a part?’

  ‘Completely agree, I will ring the Vice President and, Victoria, can you contact the US Ambassador, the more troops we have the better our chances.’ He looked across at Lord Fathom. ‘How do we set up this emergency portal?’

  ‘Give me the coordinates for the troops and I will teleport in some of our engineers to set it up…it can be ready in a matter of minutes.’

  Tyson watched the exchange and decided that he needed to emphasise a key point of the plan. ‘We will have surprise on our side, General; Zylar is not expecting an attack. When we transport the task force the operator and guards will be expecting another assignment of zinithium, especially if we teleport at a pre-agreed shipment time. We also need to arrive at the two points as it will cut off the Ilsid in reaching the levitation tanks and gun-ships which are stored near the haulage portal.’ Tyson’s dreams were becoming more frequent and the last one had been similar to Kabel’s dream.