Thomas Rhymer: Things Men Were Not Meant to Know
Originally Published by Jason Cochrane on Jun 10, 2016 at 08:29 AM
The night was moonless, as required. The stars were veiled by fast moving clouds. A lone figure stood inhaling the last dregs of a cheap cigarette. Long flowing ginger locks danced in the wind. The figure’s weather beaten trench coat, it’s true colour lost with age, threatened to tear itself free form the form.
The figure was muttering. “Don’t know why I agreed to this bollocks.”
The figure held a conversation with itself. A sign of madness in some. A sign of power in others.
“It pays well and don’t I bloody know it. If I pull this off I can clear some debts. Those things have been piling up. Bad habit I suppose.”
“If it doesn’t damn well kill me.” The figure continued it’s audible self monologue.
Time slowly advanced towards the required hour. The man, for the figure was one, continued to pass the time in self debate.
“Bloody Eldritch could do this in this sleep. But Eldritch won’t do it will he? Probably ‘cause he already knows the damn answer. I’d wager that great ponce Gatekeeper knows what we’re dealing with too… sly bastard that one. Getting those to buggers to spill their guts is probably more trouble than it’s worth.”
The cigarette fell to the ground where it glowed dully. A shoe quickly ground it under heel.
“Still, their loss. My gain. Come on Thom old son. Best get started.” He shrugged off the trench coat and hung it on an angel bent in silent prayer over a grave. “Hang on this for me luv. If I don’t make it you can keep it. You look stone cold.”
He shivered in the chill wind. The circles were well marked. He carefully checked they were still intact. The sigils were correct and clear. It wouldn’t do for either the protection ritual or the summoning circle to lose integrity. It was damn embarrassing when the netherworld horrors took a stroll without permission.
The man carefully placed a photograph wrapped in a strand of flaming red hair in the first circle. Upon this he placed a rock. After checking it would not blow away the man moved inside the other circle. Goosebumps rose on his skin.
His voice rang out. It was lilting, penetrating, commanding. To a passer-by it would be gibberish but to the beings beyond the veil it held terrible power. The voice continued for minutes before it was answered. A sepulchral tone more ominous presence than voice echoed without walls.
“Thomas Rhymer, you foul deceiver. Your treachery is as limitless as your impudence. How dare you call upon me!”
The man smirked. “Flattery will get you nowhere, mate.”
“I need information and I can pay.” The shivers Thomas felt were now more than those from the cold.
“Your tongue speaks lies worthy of the hells. Your promises are hollow and worthless.”
“Setting aside the whole binding circle bit,” Thomas fervently hoped he sounded confident and carefree, “I got a little something for ya. I reckon a trade might be worth your time.” Thomas pulled from his pocket a necklace. It was a small golden chain set with a single tiny gem of deepest obsidian. He dangled it tantalisingly. “Got your name here. Bit careless of you leaving it lying around all these centuries for anyone ta read.”
There was no response. Thomas knew that he should have the attention of the entity who had responded.
“Gimme what I want and I’ll crisp this right here in front of ya. No more annoying random summoning by us mere mortals. Do we have a deal mate?”
More silence. Thomas knew the being was still present. It was, if he did his job right, trapped within the summoning circle.
“And this bargain. What would you have of me as my part?”
“On the ground in there with ya. I want to know who that is, where they’re from and why they’re here.”
A disturbing ethereal chuckle boomed around the windy graveyard.
“Foolishness. You have my name and my token. You have invited me into your circle Thomas Rhymer.”
“Oh, bollocks.” Real terror gripped him. This was it. He was going to die from a novice error. Suddenly it occurred to him why Eldritch and Gatekeeper might have refused the job. It might be because they were not arrogant, amoral amateurs who were easily distracted by a moderately large pile of cash.
“We have a pact.” The words boomed in Thomas’ ears.
“Oh, eh? Not that I’m ungrateful but what are you playing at?”
“We shall all have you in our grasp soon enough Thomas Rhymer. The destruction of my token will rid me of a nuisance greater than you. The knowledge you seek shall be yours as you wished. I shall take great pleasure when I gaze upon your face when I complete our transaction.”
Thomas knew the offer for what it was: an opportunity for more torment before death and then on death an eternity of torment. The latter part he already had coming.
“Well mate.” Thomas focussed on his imminent income. “You strike a hard bargain. Watch closely. Now you see it…” There was a flicker of spectral flame. It coruscated around the necklace, enveloped it. The necklace quickly became ash. “…and now you don’t. Rightio then, that’s my bit done.”
“Then listen closely Thomas Rhymer. Listen as the wind whispers the secrets you have purchased.”
Thomas hugged himself in the cold to try and quell his nearly chattering teeth. He couldn’t afford to miss any of the words. They would not be repeated.
Soon the wind ceased and the world seemed even colder for it. The other presence was gone. Thomas Rhymer, ashen faced, stood alone, shivering in the protection circle. The photograph and hair had long since blown away.
“Bugger.” He turned towards the angel that held his coat. “Well, Thomas you useless tosspot, now you know we’re pretty much fecked.”
Originally Published by Jason Cochrane on Jun 10, 2016 at 08:29 AM
The night was moonless, as required. The stars were veiled by fast moving clouds. A lone figure stood inhaling the last dregs of a cheap cigarette. Long flowing ginger locks danced in the wind. The figure’s weather beaten trench coat, it’s true colour lost with age, threatened to tear itself free form the form.
The figure was muttering. “Don’t know why I agreed to this bollocks.”
The figure held a conversation with itself. A sign of madness in some. A sign of power in others.
“It pays well and don’t I bloody know it. If I pull this off I can clear some debts. Those things have been piling up. Bad habit I suppose.”
“If it doesn’t damn well kill me.” The figure continued it’s audible self monologue.
Time slowly advanced towards the required hour. The man, for the figure was one, continued to pass the time in self debate.
“Bloody Eldritch could do this in this sleep. But Eldritch won’t do it will he? Probably ‘cause he already knows the damn answer. I’d wager that great ponce Gatekeeper knows what we’re dealing with too… sly bastard that one. Getting those to buggers to spill their guts is probably more trouble than it’s worth.”
The cigarette fell to the ground where it glowed dully. A shoe quickly ground it under heel.
“Still, their loss. My gain. Come on Thom old son. Best get started.” He shrugged off the trench coat and hung it on an angel bent in silent prayer over a grave. “Hang on this for me luv. If I don’t make it you can keep it. You look stone cold.”
He shivered in the chill wind. The circles were well marked. He carefully checked they were still intact. The sigils were correct and clear. It wouldn’t do for either the protection ritual or the summoning circle to lose integrity. It was damn embarrassing when the netherworld horrors took a stroll without permission.
The man carefully placed a photograph wrapped in a strand of flaming red hair in the first circle. Upon this he placed a rock. After checking it would not blow away the man moved inside the other circle. Goosebumps rose on his skin.
His voice rang out. It was lilting, penetrating, commanding. To a passer-by it would be gibberish but to the beings beyond the veil it held terrible power. The voice continued for minutes before it was answered. A sepulchral tone more ominous presence than voice echoed without walls.
“Thomas Rhymer, you foul deceiver. Your treachery is as limitless as your impudence. How dare you call upon me!”
The man smirked. “Flattery will get you nowhere, mate.”
“I need information and I can pay.” The shivers Thomas felt were now more than those from the cold.
“Your tongue speaks lies worthy of the hells. Your promises are hollow and worthless.”
“Setting aside the whole binding circle bit,” Thomas fervently hoped he sounded confident and carefree, “I got a little something for ya. I reckon a trade might be worth your time.” Thomas pulled from his pocket a necklace. It was a small golden chain set with a single tiny gem of deepest obsidian. He dangled it tantalisingly. “Got your name here. Bit careless of you leaving it lying around all these centuries for anyone ta read.”
There was no response. Thomas knew that he should have the attention of the entity who had responded.
“Gimme what I want and I’ll crisp this right here in front of ya. No more annoying random summoning by us mere mortals. Do we have a deal mate?”
More silence. Thomas knew the being was still present. It was, if he did his job right, trapped within the summoning circle.
“And this bargain. What would you have of me as my part?”
“On the ground in there with ya. I want to know who that is, where they’re from and why they’re here.”
A disturbing ethereal chuckle boomed around the windy graveyard.
“Foolishness. You have my name and my token. You have invited me into your circle Thomas Rhymer.”
“Oh, bollocks.” Real terror gripped him. This was it. He was going to die from a novice error. Suddenly it occurred to him why Eldritch and Gatekeeper might have refused the job. It might be because they were not arrogant, amoral amateurs who were easily distracted by a moderately large pile of cash.
“We have a pact.” The words boomed in Thomas’ ears.
“Oh, eh? Not that I’m ungrateful but what are you playing at?”
“We shall all have you in our grasp soon enough Thomas Rhymer. The destruction of my token will rid me of a nuisance greater than you. The knowledge you seek shall be yours as you wished. I shall take great pleasure when I gaze upon your face when I complete our transaction.”
Thomas knew the offer for what it was: an opportunity for more torment before death and then on death an eternity of torment. The latter part he already had coming.
“Well mate.” Thomas focussed on his imminent income. “You strike a hard bargain. Watch closely. Now you see it…” There was a flicker of spectral flame. It coruscated around the necklace, enveloped it. The necklace quickly became ash. “…and now you don’t. Rightio then, that’s my bit done.”
“Then listen closely Thomas Rhymer. Listen as the wind whispers the secrets you have purchased.”
Thomas hugged himself in the cold to try and quell his nearly chattering teeth. He couldn’t afford to miss any of the words. They would not be repeated.
Soon the wind ceased and the world seemed even colder for it. The other presence was gone. Thomas Rhymer, ashen faced, stood alone, shivering in the protection circle. The photograph and hair had long since blown away.
“Bugger.” He turned towards the angel that held his coat. “Well, Thomas you useless tosspot, now you know we’re pretty much fecked.”
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