The Castle sat on top of the hill like a cat sleeping on the roof of a car. Its bent and craggy spires reached skyward at ad hoc angles and defied gravity in precarious and unlikely ways. Formidable defensive walls were crudely sketched in a mismatched hotchpotch of styles. The few discernible windows, such as they were, were placed almost randomly around the crooked outside perimeter. It was big, scary, brooding and menacing. Even the complete lack of moats, drawbridges, keeps, guardhouses and other appendages usually demanded by large fortresses couldn’t prevent it from being unnervingly imposing.
Despite this decrepit description, however, those who were fortunate enough to see it and live to tell the tale had nothing but praise for it. It had presence, it had majesty, it had drama. It was dominant and it was imperious.
The owner of the castle was a stylish, sophisticated lady called Liandra. She was tall and slim, wore a long, flowing black cloak and was considered by the island’s many and varied beasts to be their absolute ruler. She possessed great power, so the rumours went, and was certainly not averse to employing it. Liberally so.
There was much folklore surrounding this apparent ruthlessness. Local stories and ballads covered all the bases - from the belief that she was just inherently crazy through to grandiose notions that she was protecting a terrible secret that could destroy the whole world. Whatever the case, one thing was abundantly clear - she trusted nobody. Not locals and especially not strangers.
In order to maintain her policies, Liandra had devised and installed an advanced monitoring system that, to her subjects, seemed nothing short of miraculous. Whoever set foot on her island, whatever they got up to, wherever they went, nothing escaped her all-seeing gaze. Interestingly, she didn’t go to any lengths to keep the system secret and this as much as anything helped to reinforce her reputation for witchcraft, sorcery and nosiness.
‘What do we have here?’ Liandra muttered to herself as she sipped at a large goblet of fine red wine. ‘Some visitors?’ She grabbed a small device from the arm of her heavily-jewelled throne and pressed one of the buttons. The display she watched zoomed in on a band of five explorers carefully making their way along the banks of the river Hursett. They seemed to be a fine mix of men; one was clearly a scientist, another a powerful warrior, the other three unidentifiable, but without doubt learned professionals of some variety. They didn’t look like the usual sort of intruders. However, her policy regarding trespassers was clear, and for good reason too. At this crucial juncture she didn’t dare risk making a mistake.
She eased herself off the throne and made her way over to a heavy rope hanging from the ceiling by the main door. A bell chimed in the distance as she tugged. She returned to her comfortable seat of power and waited. Mere moments later, there came a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ she replied. The wooden door eased itself open and two short, red creatures with long, pointy ears and spindly limbs scampered in. They bowed slightly to their Queen and waited patiently at the foot of her throne.
‘Vinil,’ she said. ‘Harbo. It appears we have visitors to our delightful island.’
‘You wish the usual, Majesty?’ asked Vinil, the more intellectual of the two imps.
‘Yes.’
‘Very good, Majesty.’
The two imps bowed again and left.
Liandra knocked back the rest of her wine. She rolled the goblet around in her hands, lost in thought for a moment. The timing of all this was surely more than just a coincidence. Right now, at this exact time, the sudden appearance of a whole team of strangers? It had to mean something. It all had to tie up somehow.
She flicked the goblet carelessly across the room and stood up majestically. With her cloak sweeping elegantly behind she glided over to a small device perched on a table in a dark recess of the room. She paused to check what had happened to the goblet and was annoyed to see it bobbing to and fro aimlessly in mid-air; the dishwasher had evidently broken again. Useless piece of technology. Turning her attention back to the tabletop device, she pressed a small button. A faint humming sound began and various lights started flashing on the top. Two screens lit up and displayed a list of diagnostic information. ‘Continue,’ said Liandra. The screens cleared. The bottom one then displayed a kind of progress bar that slowly worked its way from nought to one hundred percent. The top screen displayed something altogether more interesting - a perfectly rendered three-dimensional avatar of Liandra herself. The avatar was suspended in a black void and was spinning slowly around. As always, Liandra smiled to herself that she looked so good. Tall, slim, elegant, with perfect chestnut hair, big deep brown eyes, a glamorous smile and a pretty face. Once the moment of narcissism was over, she said a few more words. The avatar stopped rotating and the display zoomed in to the face. Every minor movement the real Liandra made was replicated perfectly on screen. She said a few more words and the top display froze. The bottom screen switched off and then faded into a hazy, static-filled mist. Craning closer Liandra stared at the drifting patterns of white and grey. She could just about discern a recognisable feature, a solid form, the whispy contours occasionally reinforcing each other, occasionally negating. The overall impression was of a very faint face - drifting in and out of existence, phasing to and fro amidst the noise. A tinny, faint, ghostly voice emerged from the device, shrouded in semi-electronic sonic artefacts and howling background interference.
It’s me they’re coming
Liandra said, ‘repeat’.
It’s me they’re coming
It’s me they’re coming
It’s me they’re coming
It’s me they’re coming