Flossian & The Five Kings
Chapter 1
Flossian the Third looked out at the dark clouds and a faint smile flicked across his lips. It was going to be one hell of a day. A disciple of the Order of Manichee, he had no reason to fear the onslaught that was coming. Flecks of lightning flashed across the clouds in the distance. They would be riding, no doubt, ahead of the storm; the Lords of Greylark, Kings of Abomination, Reapers of the damned from the five Kingdoms of Sorrow.
‘Flossy, get your backside down here now,’ a familiar voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs. ‘It’s breakfast time.’
‘Bugger,’ he thought. The cry had broken his reverie.
Not bothering to answer, he took one more look out of the skylight in his bedroom and pulled on his dressing gown. The face of Mickey Mouse crumpled as he tightened the golden cord around his middle.
Downstairs, the table was laid but the other minions weren’t in sight. Rain had started to lash against the kitchen windows. Good, he thought, or rather, not good. The Lords would soon be here, better eat up quickly. The others will have no chance.
One of the imps of Calcatras, a distorted race that originated from the planet Gargargar, came in, heaved its miniature body onto a chair and started eating cereal. His younger brother, Cleo.
‘Flaa,’ it said in its primitive language. Flossian ignored it. A shaft of lightning lit up the side of its face. Nearly there, Flossian thought and gripped the side of the table in anticipation. Come Riders, batterers of the lower realms; shatter these souls and reap the rewards of evil and Time’s overleapt dimensions.
Nothing happened.
‘Charlie, you’ll have to take the kids to school. There’s a storm coming.’
The female one, who kept the house, flicked a switch on the wall and pale fluorescent light flooded the room. It only served to heighten the contrast between inside and out where, Flossian imagined (what! he knew) earthlings and other aliens would be vapourised all over the globe as the vanquishers swept all before them.
‘I need to tell you something,’ he began. Perhaps he had better inform them. The evil he had summoned could not be beaten, but it was only polite to warn them of their imminent downfall.
‘Not now Flossy, I’ve got to get the car out of the garage.’
‘Flaa, Flaa,’ croaked the imbecile from the next chair. A mouth full of cereal spilled from its warped lips.
Flossian put some more ketchup on his scrambled eggs. He thought back to the events of the previous evening. Lighting the candles as usual, he transformed his shabby room into the cave of Xerxestes; home of the planetary wanderer Vilarnin (his alter ego). Once again he recanted the names of the three Osmen; Omega, Bann and Threstiae, hoping that they would come finally to his aid and free him from servitude on this alien world.
This time they did.
The candle had flickered and in the room he heard a whisper, then from distance a moan, and then a howl (although that could have been a cat - the three signs of Cal-med as he speeds to the aid of the downtrodden.
‘This planet is forsaken.’ Flossian recited in response, his heart leaping. The Book of Reason and Spells lay open on the bed. He kneeled beside it, reciting the verses:
In days of the Ancients
When kingdom comes,
The Root of domination;
Algebra and Sums,
Will come to our aid
With the Five Kings of yore;
To help the downtrodden
I summon you here.
Was that a crack of thunder? Or a blast from Cal-med’s hammer? He rushed to the window. Rain pelted the glass. No, the woman termed Mother had knocked a dustbin over reversing the chariot out of the drive. He looked across the road, at the low bushes in front of the houses on the other side. Would the Five Kings hide in there? Was that a glint of armour? Or a Kit Kat wrapper?
He hadn’t given up hope yet.
His mother came back into the room.
‘Flossy, finish your breakfast. Quickly, and get ready. Your father’s taking you to school, you know he doesn’t like to be late.’
The Father came in after her, buttoning up his shirt, bristling with impatience; he would be one of the first to go.
Please, thought Flossian, please, before the ritual of day arrives, come Five Kings, inheritors of this doomed planet and wreak your revenge on these white-slippered weaklings.
Still nothing happened. He went back up the stairs. Slowly. The imbecile from Gargargar trailed behind him, slobbering its usual insults and trying to squeeze past.
Flossian blocked it expertly and dealt a blow to its head. Would it be up to him again, to fight the fight all on his own?
He bent to explain to the lower form, as it squirmed beneath him, the nature of its impending death.
‘Last night, weasel, I summoned the Five Kings.’ A blank expression. Exasperated, he bent closer. ‘They will be coming, the Reapers of souls. You’ll be the first to go, followed by that pale-skinned Father. I will not have to get dressed, I will not go to school, I will not have to be subjected to that alien drill anymore.’ Still no response. ‘You earthlings are doomed,’ he shouted, before dashing into his room and slamming the door.