The wizards stared at each other in amazement. Their prey had disappeared in front of their eyes in a puff of nothingness.
"Block the door, Stanverital," screamed Gravalar. "Devligrate, block the window. Make sure there's no way out. If they've become invisible make sure they can't escape."
Rumour had it they'd used invisibility when they mysteriously broke out of Mifal's dungeon. That wasn't going to be allowed to happen again here.
When Nextar and four serfs arrived, they began a systematic search of the room.
"Hands and knees, serfs," ordered Devligrate. "Explore every finger-length of floor."
They patted their way around the floor, feeling every corner and crevice. They found plenty of cobwebs and a lot of rather nasty sticky stuff but no sign of their quarry. It was a futile exercise. The room was empty except for two piles of clothes which lay untidily on the ground.
"Everyone be silent," said Gravalar. "Let Nextar use his hearing skill to see if he can locate them."
Nextar's face squished up and wrinkled as he concentrated on his ears. There were sounds, lots of sounds. Floorboards creaked, people breathed, rats scrabbled in the walls but there was no trace of the fugitives. There was nobody hiding anywhere in the room. There was nothing.
"They're not here," said Nextar. "They've gone."
"Bring up one of the dogs," ordered Devligrate.
The dog sniffed everything; the clothes, the bed, the floorboards, everything. It found nothing, but it did seem to enjoy licking up the mysterious sticky stuff.
"Well, it's not the Transportation Spell," said Stanverital. "It could have taken them miles away but the discarded clothes means it wasn't that spell."
"Yes, if it'd had been that spell, their clothes would have gone too and there'd have been the smell of burnt wood." No one knew why but a smouldering sandalwood smell always accompanied a magic transportation.
"And it's not invisibility otherwise our search would have found them."
The shouting started again as the wizards traded recriminations.
"You should have moved faster, Gravalar."
"Me? You should have blasted the door immediately, Devligrate," said Gravalar, "and trying to break down the door, Stanverital, just gave them time to escape."
"And what magic did you deploy, Gravalar?"
"Enough," said Nextar. "Don't let this become a Black versus White issue. We need answers, not people to blame."
Many theories were discussed but they only came up with one plausible explanation. The pair had invoked one of the all-time major spells and had time-travelled. They were now somewhere, or rather sometime, in the future.
"How many scrolls do these people have?" said Nextar. "We've counted at least twelve instances of magic on this hunt and you folk reckoned there were at least ten on your original chase."
"That's at least twenty-two scrolls," said Gravalar, doing the maths. "Unbelievable."
"Yes, unbelievable," said Devligrate, sharing a sly grin with Stanverital. "Anyway, that's not important for now. If they've used time-travel, then they could have jumped anything between five hours and ten years."
"And they could re-appear anywhere within a hundred miles of here."
"Dammit," said Devligrate. "That makes the task of finding them nigh on impossible."
"But the scrolls must be around here somewhere," said Gravalar. "The least we can do is find the scrolls."
"Yes, they must be here somewhere," said Nextar. "They might have been able to take four with them if they'd done the unthinkable, but there's no way they could have secreted twenty or more."
Their search of the room produced nothing.
After a bit more shouting, pushing and finger-pointing, they decided the prudent thing to do was remain in the inn and wait to see if the fugitives turned up. It would also give them a chance to question everyone in the tavern and search the whole building for the scrolls. They sent out regular search parties of serfs and dogs to scour the surroundings looking for the travellers and to widen the search for the scrolls.
Nothing produced results. They searched, they waited, and then they searched some more. Five days passed and despite all their efforts there was no sign of the fugitives. Discussion followed discussion, and they eventually decided they had no choice other than to report back to the Black and White Councils and let the wise ones work out what to do next.
They left twenty serfs at the inn to maintain the vigil even though they knew deep down it was a futile gesture. The fugitives had gone for good or if not for good, they'd gone for a very long time.
***
The expeditionary force returned to report to the joint Council of the Black and White.
The four senior wizards made the presentation. The Black wizards downplayed the role of the Whites and vice versa. To make matters worse, each wizard exaggerated his own part in the quest in an attempt to outdo the others and ingratiate themselves with the wizard hierarchy.
"Enough of this petty rivalry," shouted the Great Grand Wizard. "We have important work to do. We don't need you people raking up old enmities or putting your unstroked egos on display."
The report became much more matter-of-fact although everyone could still feel the underlying tension.
They told how they'd used hunting parties of serfs and dogs to scour wide swathes of the countryside for clues. They outlined their encounters with peasants who'd seen the fugitives pass. But most important of all, they described the trail of magic-related artefacts which had signposted the fugitives' trail; artefacts such as destroyed oak trees, a salt pillar, an ever-burning campfire and a mysterious bridge.
"And then we came to a secluded tavern."
"I heard it before anyone saw it," said Nextar.
"Yes, but I saw it first," said Gravalar.
"Enough," shouted the Black Grandee. "Continue with your report."
They described the chase through the tavern, the barricaded door and the thunderball.
"They were there in front of us. We had them cornered and then... then they were gone."
They held up the ragged clothes they'd retrieved from the scene. They explained how they'd searched the area and how they'd waited and watched in case the time-leap had been a short one. Finally, they told of the team of watchers who'd been left in place.
The Council members listened carefully.
"One last thing," said Gravalar. "I had a brief conversation with them through the door."
"And what was said?" asked the Great Grand Wizard.
"It's irrelevant," said Devligrate, who knew what was coming.
"Well, I told them we wouldn't hurt them if they opened the door and gave us the scrolls."
"That was very clever, Gravalar," said Stanverital trying to stop him continuing.
"Yes, and then I blasted the door."
"What is going on here?" roared the great Grand Wizard. "Let him finish."
"Thank you. Now here's the interesting bit. One of them said 'If you spare us I'll give you the scroll. It's here. Let me bring it to you.'"
"And that's interesting, why?"
"He said 'scroll', singular."
For the Black Council members, this revelation confirmed their suspicions about the Spell Spell. For the Whites, it raised many uncomfortable questions.
After another hour of debate and speculation about no scrolls being found, the Great Grand Wizard spoke.
"I think we should break from our deliberations and have some time with our own Orders to, ahmmm, evaluate our pact."
When the joint Council reconvened, shouting, pointing and recriminations dominated proceedings.
"It's the Spell Spell they have, and you knew it."
"No we didn't. We heard about 'the singular scroll' at the same time as you."
"Liars. Now we know why you wanted first pick. You knew that these people only had one scroll."
The mudslinging and name-calling lasted nearly an hour.
"Stop, stop," said the Black Grandee. "You're right. We tried to secure the Spell Spell for ourselves, but I'd wager that you'd have done the same had you been in our position. But, for the sake of proper order in this world, we need to work together and retrieve the Scroll. I have a proposition."
"Another deceit, no doubt."
"No. I think you'll be happy with my idea. It puts you in control."
"I'm listening," said the Great Grand Wizard.
"We believe that the thieves have time-travelled and taken the Spell Spell Scroll with them... and I think we all know how."
"Ugh," said one of the Whites. "That's no way to treat one of the world's great treasures."
"First, I propose we carry on with the plan agreed earlier and strengthen the team of watchers waiting at the tavern. It could be a very long wait and the pair wouldn't necessarily turn up in that exact place, although it is their most likely point of re-entry."
"A long wait indeed," said one of the wisest wizards. "We believe the time leap could be two hundred years or more."
"Some say there is no limit to the time which can be jumped."
"And the young wizards believe ten years is the limit. Ha, is there any hope for the younger generation?"
"We have to be prepared to play the long game," continued the Black Grandee. "So here's my big idea. The only way to be certain of retrieving the Scroll is to be there, in place, when the Scroll arrives. Not just with a bunch of serfs but with a well-disciplined, well-resourced organisation. I propose we create a secret society which will pass on its remit from generation to generation. It will perpetuate the story of the great Scroll and how it fell into the hands of two thieving common folk. Its sole purpose will be to find the Scroll."
"You said we'd be in control," said the Great Grand Wizard.
"Yes, I'm coming to that. Both our orders will donate great spells and vast riches to this organisation so it can prosper century after century. It will be the most powerful organisation on the planet."
"Control?"
"Stanverital, Devligrate, Gravalar and Nextar will be the senior founding members."
"Control?"
"The leader of this new Society will be titled the Great Grand Master and the first of these will be Gravalar. Your man will be in charge of this new society."
After some debate which dotted the Is and crossed the Ts, they agreed and decreed that the Society would be in existence from that day forth. So, no matter how far the thieves had time-leaped, by the very nature of time, the Society would be in place when the time-travellers arrived. Through the Society, they would be waiting, no matter how long it took.
The Council armed the four founders with resources beyond the dreams of the masses and total secrecy was demanded. The Society would be named the secret ones or, to give it its formal Salatin title, the Occultus Populous.
And so it was.
***
Over the centuries, the secret was never discovered. Sometimes some 'genius' commoner would feel very clever when he exposed the secret workings of societies such as the Freemasons, the Hashshashin, The Knights of the Golden Circle or the Illuminati. But these 'geniuses' had all been tricked by an on-going deception because these other societies were merely smokescreens created by the Occultus Populous. It had ingeniously established a web of clandestine organisations to conceal its own secret until the Scroll and the travellers appeared.
As decades turned to centuries, the Society's aims became more and more blurred. There were still the writings about the Scroll but after so many years, the stories had become somewhat myth like. It was no longer clear if the Scroll actually existed and the story of the time-travellers took on the qualities of a fable. The Society's purpose evolved into one which protected the standing of the elite and kept the hoi polloi in their place. Over the centuries, it expanded far beyond its original roots and became truly global.
Using its vast wealth, alongside magic and trickery, it gained authority over most of the world's money supply, giving it control over everyone who was in debt. In order to maintain the cloak of secrecy, it deluded the masses using distractions such as unnecessary work, pointless study, mindless entertainment and sport.
By the time the twenty-first century rolled around, the Occultus Populous owned the majority of the world's most powerful financial institutions. Virtually every Government was trapped in debt and many were forced to sell their Nation's assets, lose sovereignty and place their citizens in poverty to repay their crippling debts. The rich got richer and the poor got poorer; which was how the Society deemed things were meant to be. Everything was going well as far as that plan was concerned.
It was clear, though, that the Society had lost sight of the very reason it had been created all those centuries ago; its raison d'être had shifted. The Occultus Populous had largely forgotten about the Scroll and its members were now focused on their own selfish power and greed.