Influence Page 5

  ‘So what you listening to?’ Lizzie sighed showing her mild exasperation at his continued attempts at communication.

  ‘Pumpkins.’

  ‘Ah yeah, Smashing Pumpkins, not bad. Not really my thing though but you could do a lot worse.’ Lizzie could tell he was desperate for her to reciprocate an enquiry into his tastes but instead she smiled, and again turned away, sure this would be the end of the very one sided conversation. She was wrong. ‘Yeah, the whole grunge scene is a big step forward from all that hairspray rock shit in the eighties but it doesn’t really speak to me, you know?’ He swung his canvas shoulder bag onto his knee displaying what was once a drab green satchel but now was emblazoned with patches, handwriting and a drawing here and there. Lizzie recognised only a few of the names. Sisters of Mercy, The Cure, and Type O Negative were crudely and indelibly written in black marker, while the patches, mostly in black, displayed names such as Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride. Taking pride of place on the centre of the front flap of the bag was a patch with just three letters.

  ‘Who’s NIN? Lizzie enquired, unable to help herself.

  ‘Who’s what?’ Frank spun his bag round to look. ‘Oh N-I-N’ Void spelled out. ‘Nine Inch Nails, best band in the world, I don’t care what anyone says,’ he gushed. Lizzie did not disguise the rolling of her eyes.

  A shout came from Void’s crowd, and Lizzie only then noticed they had been watching from a distance, either waiting for Void, or enjoying the show. ‘I gotta go Lizzie, it was nice to meet you, maybe see you at the union for a drink sometime, where do you go?’ Lizzie had no choice but to play here ace card again faced with this question she couldn’t answer. Someone from his crowd shouted again, clearly impatient.

  ‘Well, just see you around I guess.’

  ‘Sure’, said Lizzie, throwing him a bone. Void rose, gave Lizzie a smile and trotted back to his friends. Lizzie watched after him as he caught up to the group. Just before they disappeared from view Lizzie saw that one of the girls was looking at her – Elvira, it was not a kind look.

  Lizzie took a slow stroll back to the train station. Trains were regular, two an hour and the journey itself took less than twenty minutes, so she was in no rush. There were more tourists than normal today and she wondered why that was. She often had to chastise herself for finding the abundance of tourists annoying. She neither lived, nor studied, in Oxford and therefore had no right to feel put out or bothered by visitors to the city as she was, for all intents and purposes, one of those temporary features of the landscape. The CD was beginning to break up and crackle, Lizzie searched her bag for replacement batteries but hadn’t packed any. Without music to distract her Lizzie pulled a book from her bag, some fantasy fiction Vic had insisted she read and which had taken her an inordinately lengthy period to get through despite its relative brevity. Lizzie was at least able to give it her full attention and had finished the awful novel by the time the train pulled into Banbury station.

  Six

  Lizzie mistimed her return journey and left it until after 4pm to catch a train home. She tried never to do this as the trains were filled with homeward bound commuters and inevitably there were two passengers to every seat.

  The walk from the station took as much time as the train journey itself, but at least it was a pleasant stroll through the centre of Banbury. She always enjoyed the walk home except for a Friday and Saturday night when the atmosphere of the town changed and would suddenly turn into any other town centre in Britain where people, who predominantly worked Monday to Friday, would drive the pressures of the preceding week and the stress of the proceeding one out of their minds by setting about getting out of theirs. On the nights where Lizzie had made the mistake of finding her way home at these times she would be forced to slalom groups of over-amorous drunk males and covens of screeching women usually consoling a panda impersonating, projectile vomiting harpy at the centre of stumbling huddles.

  Lizzie opened the front door, threw her bag over a coat hook. There was laughter coming from the kitchen which would mean Janice’s best friend Maggie was over and that they would shortly be heading out.

  ‘Evening folks,’ said Lizzie, announcing her arrival. Janice turned and hugged her niece cautiously, trying to avoid spilling the wine she held in one hand, and burning Lizzie with the cigarette she held in the other.

  ‘Hey kiddo,’ said Maggie using her ubiquitous hail. She was sat on the work surface with one leg dangling over the edge and the other propped up while she carefully painted her toe nails.

  ‘I forget, were you in today?’ enquired Janice, with ‘in’ meaning school.

  ‘No, I had a free day today.’

  ‘So you were in Oxford? You should have said I would have met you for lunch.’ Her aunt would often meet Lizzie at lunchtimes when she headed into town on her free study periods. Janice’s job also required her to work a lot of Saturdays and given Lizzie’s rather limited extra-curricular schedule she would sometimes bring lunch to her office which, at weekends, would normally be empty but for a few particularly driven employees. Lizzie wasn’t entirely sure what it was that Janice did for a living. She worked for a marketing company, but that in and of itself failed to offer explanation and her aunt’s job title – Marketing Executive, failed to make the situation any clearer. Even a direct question about the ins and outs of Janice’s job didn’t fully paint a clear picture in Lizzie’s mind but Janice loved her job and Lizzie, for that reason, didn’t give her a hard time about just how boring it all sounded. Lizzie was seventeen. Seventeen going on thirty seven her mother would have said, would have said but could not say, not any more. Janice had much the same view and often teased her about being an old cardigan clad woman trapped in the body of a teenager. Janice was her mum’s baby sister, and at twenty nine there was only twelve years between her and Lizzie. Janice had always treated Lizzie more like a cousin, perhaps even a little sister; the normal aunt - niece relationship didn’t really exist, even after everything that had happened and Janice had become responsible for Lizzie. She was glad that the events last year had not changed their relationship. She was grateful that Janice had not tried to adopt the mother role and had respected Lizzie enough to allow her to dictate how and when she needed Janice in her life. The result was a sort of house mate situation between the two. Each would do the courtesy of letting the other know their plans in advance so as not to inconvenience one another or have the other worry unduly. Lizzie didn’t ever have people over to the house and other than the ever present Maggie, Janice didn’t either.

  Janice’s love-life, or lack thereof, was a mystery to Lizzie, she dare not ask however as such a question would inevitably lead to a reciprocated enquiry and all the embarrassment that that drew. Janice had had a fairly serious boyfriend when she had lived in Glasgow as a student and Lizzie had met him a couple of times at family engagements. The relationship had come to an end when Janice had been offered her job in Oxford. There had been a serious conversation surrounding plans and priorities between the two and they had split on amicable terms. Other than Lizzie herself, Janice seemed to have little else going on in her life with the exception of her job.

  Her friend Maggie was the only acquaintance of any note Lizzie was aware of. Janice had, from time to time, mentioned people in her office but never with any sense of affection or in any other context other than work. Maggie worked in the same building, but not for the same company and Lizzie liked her a lot. She was Janice’s social life and she would appear at the house a couple of times a week to break up her otherwise work obsessed world. Lizzie had learned that it had been music that had sparked the friendship between them.

  Janice and Maggie were dressed for going out, but not in a little black number kind of way. Both women were clearly heading out to a rock club and were dressed appropriately. The two women were easily distinguishable, Janice shared Lizzie’s dark hair and pale skin, albeit Janice’s hair was far longer and hung straight and glossy unlike Lizzie’s own tousled waywardnes
s. Maggie was blonde and angular, a gym junkie whilst maintaining a feminine physique. Her hair was chin length which suited her; it accentuated her angular look somehow. Lizzie took a can of Coke from the fridge and jumped up on to the work surface to sit with Maggie.

  ‘So you coming with us tonight kiddo, you must be eighteen by now right?’ asked Maggie pushing into Lizzie with her elbow.

  ‘Nope, still seventeen. Feels like I’ve been seventeen for years now, but I’ll be joining you guys soon enough.’ Maggie and Janice had once before dragged Lizzie into Oxford to go to a club. They had painstakingly worked on Lizzie’s make up and wardrobe for half the night while telling her how much she would love the place they had in mind, how they would find the perfect guy for her and warning her to stay close once they got in there. All this only for Lizzie to feel thoroughly humiliated when they arrived at the club, with some bald gorilla in a bomber jacket taking one look at her and shaking his streamlined, battle scarred head. They had given Lizzie some I.D. belonging to Janice and the makeup they had applied was an attempt to replicate the picture it displayed, however it had failed to convince. Lizzie had vehemently insisted they go on without her and enjoy their night. If they had agreed Lizzie wouldn’t have been at all resentful, she would have been relieved, but instead they had refused, and with them she had taken a very expensive taxi home and spent a guilt-ridden night in front of the television. Maggie and Janice now knew they would never be able to convince Lizzie to try again until she was legally entitled.

  ‘So you’re what, studying tonight?’ asked Janice.

  ‘I’ll hit the books for an hour or so but I promised Robe and Vic I’d go over to their place,’ Lizzie’s face echoed her unenthused tone.

  ‘Oh, so which one you got your sights set on?’ ribbed Maggie, again pushing her elbow into Lizzie’s shoulder. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

  ‘Clearly you’ve never met the Adams boys Maggie,’ said Janice coming to Lizzie’s rescue. Janice had met the boys a few times, and Lizzie had tried to forewarn her about the boy’s eccentricities, which Janice had initially assumed to be an exaggeration; she discovered, however, that she had not been, if anything she had been kind. The first few times the boys had appeared at the front door, having walked Lizzie home, she had invited them in. It had come as something of a relief that Lizzie was making friends. A grown woman engaging the boys in conversation, it transpired, had proved too much for them as they mumbled excuses and seemed incapable of eye contact, it was as if Janice had appeared at the door naked. Eventually though Lizzie had encouraged the boys beyond the threshold as one might gain the confidence of a pair of gazelle. Since then the boys would pop in from time to time for a drink before continuing on their way home. In fact Vic appeared to have taken quite a shine to Janice and it was now her turn to feel a little uneasy when she had to endure his clumsy attempts at flirting. ‘Don’t get me wrong Lizzie, they’re lovely lads but if you were to come to me and tell me you had romantic intentions toward either one of them I’d have to do the right thing and euthanize you,’ Lizzie laughed.

  ‘I think we can safely avoid having to put me to sleep anytime soon Jan, but thanks for the concern.’

  ‘So they’re hideous? Is that what we’re saying?’ asked Maggie. Lizzie, concerned Maggie might be getting the wrong idea said ‘No, that’s not it, although they’re not what you’d call handsome. They’re… well, I dunno, kinda,’ Lizzie looked over to Janice, seeking help with the right words.

  ‘Weird as tits on fish Mags. Seriously.’

  ‘I see,’ said Maggie. So what is your night with the brothers Grimm likely to entail?’

  ‘Actually, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. Dungeons and Dragons, is pretty much all I know.’

  ‘Ooooooh, kinky,’ said Maggie to Janice. ‘We’ve got a right little dark horse here. I didn’t know whips, chains and all that was your thing Elizabeth.’

  ‘Very funny. It’s role-playing… Or something.’

  ‘I don’t think that makes it sound any less kinky Lizzie,’ said Janice trying to stifle a laugh.

  ‘Ah, you know what I mean, stop teasing you pair of harpies. If I make it through tonight without dropping dead of boredom I think it will be a small miracle.’

  ‘Well, be good, and play nice’ said Janice with a wink.

  ‘And if you can’t be good, be careful. You tell those boys to keep their swords in their sheaths or they’ll have me to deal with,’ added Maggie.

  Seven

  ‘Crimson wings cast black shadows across the palace courtyard. The massive scaled beast circles threateningly above, waiting for instruction. The beat of his wings crash thunder for miles in every direction.

  The assembled royal entourage, palace guard and advisors have gathered on the steps to see this mage and hear his threats.

  “Well met King Dryonas, it has been a long time, has it not?”

  “Not nearly long enough Varin. I thought you dead, nay, hoped you dead spell-weaver.” The King stands in the middle of the congregation looking down upon the courtyard and the white bearded, black robed sorcerer. The old man stands alone and unarmed but for a long staff of wood which gradually turns to metal at the end where silver talons grasp a large red pulsing gem, faintly illuminating his face that otherwise is hidden in shadow beneath a hood. “What business have you here Varin? Why have you dragged your sorry soul from beneath whichever rock you’ve been hiding under all these years? And what is the purpose of bringing this, this lizard to my keep?” King Dryonas opens his hand to the sky where the enormous red instrument of destruction circles, lower now than before.

  “Reprisal, Dryonas. You will forgive me if I drop the titles and associated ceremony won’t you. After all you were lowly Dryonas, barbarian of the Northlands when once we rode together.”

  “A long time ago necromancer. And what happened was not my fault.”

  “Fault? Yes, fault. Blame, cause and causality. The hand that swings the axe is as culpable as the hand which does nothing to prevent it.”

  “I could do nothing Varin. We were ambushed. I myself lost many a man in the attack.”

  “And yet here you are Dryonas, perched on high, decorated in trinkets and celebrated as a hero king. Tell me, what heroic feat did you perform when my Lenora fell? What kingly action did you perform as they ravished and butchered her? I trusted her to you barbarian. I thought of you as a son then, and when I returned I found you were no son at all, and no daughter did I have either thanks to your cowardice and incompetence.”

  “I did all I could Varin. I loved her and would have given my life for hers, gladly.” The dust of the courtyard starts to stir and daylight is all but lost as the giant sails of the red dragon’s wings fill the sky as it circles ever lower.

  “Your life for hers? That at least would seem something like justice, don’t think I never considered that Dryonas. Considered and rejected your highness, you see that would be too… easy Dryonas. I have had time to consider what should be done. What must be done. The Gods must be appeased after all. When an injustice of this magnitude goes unpunished the pillars of the earth begin to crack. Your head on a pole, while bringing joy to my heart, would be somewhat insufficient. No I fear we must find a more fitting atonement for you Dryonas.

  “Then what? Gold, jewels. You may take what you need from my armoury or my coffers mage. It is yours in memory of the girl we both once loved.”

  “Pah, you insult me, you think I came here for riches? For paltry trinkets and coin? You know me not Dryonas. A life for a life oh King on high, I am here for your daughter, your stepdaughter to be exact. Not quite the same as true kin but as it’s all you have.”

  “My Malene? You have taken leave of your senses old man, what in the black abyss makes you think I would hand over my daughter to you? In fact give me one good reason I shouldn’t have you run through where you stand.”

  “One reason? Yes, one.” The old mage raises his staff, the gem glowing bright now. He slams the foot of the st
aff into the ground. The massive red beasts roars and a cloud of blue flame erupts from its jaws as it sweeps low, immense wings batter the air below it, slowing its descent. It lands in the middle of the courtyard. Its massive hind legs flex to take its weight and its wings fold sharply to become bat-like arms allowing it to crawl four legged toward the royal party. The crowd gasp, some scream and flee back into the palace. Dryonas’ own fear is etched across his face. The queen and her daughter huddle close to him as if he could possibly offer protection should the beast decide to end all of their lives in a single breath.

  “These creatures are outlawed in this land Varin, as well you know. When the other rulers hear of this-”

  “You are the authority here Dryonas, at least as far as the eye can see. If there is one among you who wishes to apply the law condemning dragons to the East Isles let him step forward and deal the death sentence such a trespass demands. That I would very much like to see.

  Now Dryonas, you will listen, and listen well. For if you do not I will command this red death to reduce all you have, and all you love to cinder and I will consider the debt paid. That or listen to my terms… and obey.” The King appears crestfallen, furious and defeated. The beast sits, awaiting instruction, its great scales bristle and scratch as the giant lizard breathes, every exhale threatening to end all.

  “Speak Varin,” says the King.

  “That crown you wear must truly be enchanted to grant you wisdom you never commanded when I knew you barbarian. The girl will come with me, but do not fear, I do not intend to harm her, although do not think for a moment I will hesitate to do so if the following provision is not met.”

  “Take me Varin, she is young and has her life ahead of her, I am old and it is my debt, not hers.”

  “Father” says Malene stepping forward. “I will go, I believe he will not to harm me and if it means the sparing of all others I do it gladly.”