Camberforge War

By Mike Connor

Jack Landon’s world turns upside down when a former enemy shows up in his hometown of Cabbington. Fleeing into the woods seems a great idea until he finds out he’s not the target. Instead, it’s his best friend Max.

Terrible choices loom when Jack attempts a rescue and makes a fatal error. Obtaining a second chance in heaven, he has to complete a series of challenges if he wishes to keep the newly created timeline in place.

Jack must work in a military academy ground, while also winning over a man-hating witch, taming a wild beast, facing pains of the past, using a sword with no blade, and trying not to die again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781728376141

Mike Connor

Mike Connor lives near London in the UK. His main passion will always be writing. Creating a story is wonderful. Misguided Attraction is loosely based on Mike’s stint as a care assistant.

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© 2022 Mike Connor. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  10/21/2022

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7612-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7614-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1   The Quest Begins

Chapter 2   The Train to Oxford

Chapter 3   Heavenly Hall

Chapter 4   The Functional Neurological Disorder Begins

Chapter 5   Bridge

Chapter 6   Wild Witch of Olopom

Chapter 7   The Bummers

Chapter 8   Connections

Chapter 9   Vikotor Detected

Chapter 10   Under Siege

Chapter 11   The Barracks

Chapter 12   Two Meetings and a Skeleton

Chapter 13   Meet the Rinehards

Chapter 14   The Robbery

Chapter 15   Change of Plan

Chapter 16   Hidden Dangers

Chapter 17   Attack Plan One

Chapter 18   The Fight

Chapter 19   Aftermath

Chapter 20   Life Goes On

About the Author

PROLOGUE

Old Mr McKinney

Richford, South London—2007

The fire was warm and inviting. The logs crackled, and the amber glow lit the room. Outside was cold and damp, which was why old Mr McKinney rarely left his house in the winter. He sank into his favourite chintzy armchair near the fire. Old age was not being kind to him. His hearing was going, and his limbs were stiff. He now needed a walking stick every day to help keep him steady. The lenses in his glasses were getting thicker, and he was taking large amounts of pain killers every day.

There was a table by the chair, and a plate of cheese and crackers had been placed upon it, along with a glass of port. Although the chair was worn, it was comfortable. The white diamond pattern on a green background was faded, and the fabric was torn in a few places. How it looked, though, didn’t matter. This chair was the best thing he owned. It supported his back, and the relief felt so good. He’d brought a battered photo album in with him.

Nearly everything he owned was worn, even his clothes. All his trousers had knee patches. The green cardigan he wore had holes. When he had been younger, everything had had to be spic and span. He’d stopped styling his long grey hair; now one good brush in the morning was sufficient.

What mattered now was keeping warm and having enough to eat, a good sit, and a good chair to nap in. His bed was lumpy, so sleep was patchy. All his money was going towards something else, so replacing the mattress wasn’t possible yet.

No one knew his first name, which was on purpose. He hated it. It was one thing he would like to forget. Perhaps there were some things you remembered irrespective of what happened. Something had happened in his youth; he had been found roaming the car park at the back of Richford Railway Station. He had been nineteen and had no memory of how he’d gotten there or of anything before.

He had no idea about his childhood, which school he attended, or even who his parents were. They must have already died, because he had never found them. All he remembered was waking up at the back of the car park in the bushes. All he had from the past was the outfit he’d been found in: a drab, grey jumpsuit. This he still kept in his wardrobe.

There were no markings on it; nor had he had anything else on him. His name had come back to him, and there were images sometimes that flashed in his mind. There were gold-skinned people in his dreams, but they were angry. Always angry.

Not liking his first name was the reason he never gave it. Everyone knew him as Mr McKinney. Of course, on official forms, he had to put something, and it amused him to put different first names and pretend to be many relatives. Pain was a constant in his life, so he took humour where he could.

So far, there were nine McKinneys living in the house ranging from Edward to Alfonzo. He had a good ability to affect accents, so spam callers were given the runaround. His Italian was excellent, and he used it when he pretended to be Alfonzo.

Eh? he would bellow down the phone. Oh, you want-a Alvin? He’s the one who knows about windows. I get him for you. He would often put the receiver down, take a seat, and time how long the person would wait. The current record was twenty minutes.

He chuckled. Yes, it was silly, but keeping a sense of humour was needed. He opened the photo album, and the first picture made him smile. He was nineteen in the picture. His long hair was black, and his skin was smooth as silk. People always said he had a charming smile.

Those were the days, McKinney thought, smiling as he looked at other photos. There was one of the kindly professor who had found him in the car park and helped him, letting McKinney stay with him and becoming the father he lacked. Bellam Landvub had been a cheerful, chubby man, his bald head as distinctive as his bright blue suits. How I miss you, Bellam. What would I have done without you? How did life get so complex? And now, I’m old, and sorting things out will be difficult. I never thought I would need help again. Becoming independent had been the goal. Building something from nothing … I thought I was so clever. Old age seemed so far away at nineteen.

McKinney put the album down, helped himself to some cheese, and took a good swig of port. It was only then that he noticed how silent the room was, so he grabbed the remote from a holder down the side of the chair and put on the television.

There was some sort of game show on. There was a live sign in the corner. In order for him to hear it, even with his hearing aid, the volume had to be over halfway. On the screen, people took turns being tied to a roundabout—the type you found in a kids’ playground—and the host would spin each contestant several times. Once done, they had to answer seven complex questions to win.

Whose idea was this? McKinney shouted at the television, as he often did. Stupid idiots. Is there nothing people won’t do for money or five minutes of fame? Who commissioned this show? I shall complain.

Winning the £50,000 jackpot was hard. One woman collapsed upon standing after being spun six times. Next, a man was actually sick. The host was dressed like a clown, with a revolving bow tie, a big yellow ball on his nose, and bright-red wig. Sidney was a tall, skinny man and seemed to be enjoying himself.

Oh, shame, Sidney Dukkard said with a gleeful tone and big grin. As the rules state, if you vomit before answering the questions, you lose. So, you can’t win the jackpot now. You don’t go away empty handed, though, as here’s a sick bag. Bye, Steve.

Some assistants came on and helped the man off.

McKinney was looking for his notebook and pen. He had to complain about the programme. The host didn’t have to look so cheerful. The next contestant was even skinnier than the host. Sidney actually pushed her into the vomit puddle on the roundabout and just started spinning it.

Hey! the girl wailed.

He he! Bad choice to wear a white, lacy dress, dear. Sidney laughed and then shouted, Let’s get the vomit party started!

You’re supposed to introduce me … my name is Rachel … I’m from Essex … oh … stop spinning … The woman lost her voice after the fifth spin. Her eyes were crossed by the seventh, and Sidney was still spinning. The assistants were running on and trying to stop Sidney from spinning.

The rules state six times maximum, Mr Dukkard.

She’s not been sick yet.

Mr Dukkard, you have to stop.

A bright red X appeared on the screen, and a male voice announced that due to technical problems, the game show was off air. McKinney was outraged.

Indecent. Unfair. He was going to keep spinning until she was sick. What’s that show called? Where’s my pen and paper? He looked on the table, but only the plate of cheese and the glass of port were on it. Blast! Where did I put them? He would need help to find them. He got out a call button attached to a key ring from his cardigan pocket and pressed it. This would summon his assistant.

There was something about the bright red X that seemed to trigger a memory. It was of a cylindrical, rose-gold head—a robotic head with a red X instead of a face. It spoke to him in a crisp, critical tone.

Look at you. Your waist is nearly as big as your ego.

What? McKinney looked this way and that. Who said that? Then he realised it had been a dream. He looked at his waist just to check. It wasn’t big …

That was when his assistant came in. You buzzed?

McKinney had a secret—one of many: he had been building a robot of his own. This robot, his assistant, was not rose gold but bronze, and his face was sculpted to resemble a basic human face. The bronze robot was slim and was smooth all over. His full designation was Kinney Robot One.

Kin Ro One, McKinney said, trying to calm down, where are my notebook and pen? And why are you speaking in a Cockney accent?

Your pen and paper are on the floor where you knocked them earlier, guv. I prefer an accent. Blimey, you finished the port? You can’t half knock it back.

No! You do not have an accent. And don’t call me ‘guv’.

I don’t want to talk like you, all prim and proper. It’s boring.

Kin Ro One! Resume your previous voice.

Can’t. I deleted that voice, love. It gave me the dry bokes.

McKinney felt a headache coming on. Why was the robot being so difficult? And don’t call me ‘love’! I’m you master.

I’ve got a bone to pick with you, guv. Kinney Robot One came closer. The latex coverings are complete. Once I put them on … I’ll look like you. Why?

You are going to be me … outside. Do all the running around I can’t. And don’t call me ‘guv’!

Jeez. Why? Get a three-wheeled walker like Doris down the road. She’s like a racing car driver with that thing.

No! I am not getting a walker! I’m not that old! I’m still young!

Oh, it’s an age thing. You could have the male menopause. Kinney Robot One turned to face the TV. He began flicking through channels without the need for the remote.

How are you doing that?

I’m a unique machine, guv.

Stop calling me ‘guv’. The title is ‘master’.

No, ‘master’ don’t suit you. You’re too fussy to be a master.

I beg your pardon?

A werewolf appeared on the screen. It was some sort of programme where three teenagers were being chased down an alley by a big werewolf. Its fur was jet back. McKinney yelled. He hated werewolves. He didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t stand them.

Turn over! Werewolf! Quick. Turn over!

All right! Keep your hair on. Kinney Robot One changed the channel.

Oh, those horrible orange eyes … are you trying to induce a heart attack?

That wolf had grey eyes, guv. And that plate of cheese will give you a heart attack before me. Your doctor said to cut back.

I have. It’s just the one plate.

And alcohol is off limits. Can’t have port neither.

I didn’t ask you for your opinion. Oh, why are you so odd? I built you to worship me.

Kinney Robot One turned to face him and cocked his head to the left, After seeing you eat, worshipping you has become more difficult.

McKinney glared at him. The stew doesn’t count. I was hungry.

What about the casserole dish at that dinner party? You picked up the dish and drank from it. I don’t think Beryl will be inviting you again. She called you a greedy pig.

How do you even know? Beryl lives three streets down.

You installed advanced scanners, guv. I don’t need to be in the same room. My scanners see all. Now, can I have a bedroom? That garden shed is poky.

No! Robots don’t need bedrooms.

But I can start doing designing, like in those programmes.

What programmes?

The decorating programmes that’s on during the day. I want to paint my walls yellow.

No! Robots don’t do interior designing! You are my assistant, protection, and dogsbody!

Oh, fine. I’ll go back to my greasy, lanky, dirty shed, then. And don’t forget to install ‘how to open doors’. Why ain’t you done it? You lock everything up during the day when you go out, and I’m stuck in the shed until you get back.

I’ll finish your program later. Wait, get my notebook and pen for me! Oh, and did you analyse the files I gave you this morning?

Some of them, yes. Surely you didn’t want me to scan them all.

Yes!

Oh, man … why all of them?

I’m trying to choose a successor.

Well, there’s slim pickings in Richford. Why have you only selected men?

Hush! That’s my business. Who did you evaluate, then?

Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Well, I ain’t happy with this Jack Landon you picked. He might be young, polite, and helpful and have no criminal convictions, but he’s also neurotic and thin as a rake. And he’s a frequent attendee at the local A & E. Grazes his knee, and he acts like he’s losing his leg, et cetera. This is his photo. I downloaded it from the hospital; bypassing their firewall was easy.

McKinney accepted the photo. I know what he looks like. I have been watching him.

There was something about Jack. The pale-grey eyes had a haunting look. The young man reminded him of someone … but who? It was like he knew him, but that wasn’t possible.

Then there’s that Max Phenol, guv. Kinney Robot One handed him another photo, Now, he’s a dish. Look at that face, sculpted from marble. Body like a Greek god. Positive attributes are he’s young and fit. Negatives are he’s an estate agent and very vain. But if he’s your successor, I wouldn’t mind obeying him, you know?

McKinney rolled his eyes. You know, it’s not always who looks the best. I think Jack might be a better choice.

Him? He’s skinny. He turns sideways, and you can’t bloody see him.

Do not swear! I removed that ability.

Well, I put it back! Jeez, I ain’t speaking like a ponce.

You bad robot! You do not put things back I take out.

Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Don’t forget, you’ve got to go to the bank tomorrow. I need some more parts. And write a note to yourself about adding in opening doors.

I’ll write a note later.

You are just grumpy, guv. A grumpy old man.

Stop calling me ‘guv’.

Kinney Robot One retrieved the notebook and pen from the floor by the side of the chair.

Can I have a tongue?

Why?

I could lick this photo of Max.

No. Robots do not lick photos.

"Pick Max. At least I’ll be obeying someone attractive. He’s going on that reality show—you know, Flirty Bar."

"I am not happy with a dating show called Flirty Bar. It’s just encouraging frivolity."

What about moving to Cabbington? You got a brochure in the post this morning. Lovely town.

Cabbington is in North London. I’m not moving there. Stop reading my mail.

Well, there ain’t much else to do. Max is thinking about going to Cabbington, you know.

Stop reading other people’s mail. McKinney began holding his head.

That’s a boring thing to say. Oh, yes. I got you a present. Ordered it online. The robot went to the sideboard, picked up a parcel, and brought it over.

McKinney opened it. There was a pride flag inside.

"You know, Flirty Bar has gay people applying. You could find a nice boyfriend. Put a smile on that face of yours."

No. Now, Kin Ro One, go back to the shed. Put the latex coverings on.

I ain’t wearing the wig.

Yes, you are. I’ve made wearing the latex and wig base code commands.

You old buzzard.

Go and then come back and show me.

The robot groaned and slowly left the room with his head hung low.

McKinney looked at the pride flag. It was a side of himself he’d never explored. Burying his emotions had been very easy, so when they surfaced, there were always delays in processing them. He didn’t date or mention it to anyone. The only place he’d sometimes wondered about it had been in his dairies.

Hang on. How did he know to buy me a pride flag? McKinney shouted very loud.

The telephone rang. He had a cordless model, and the handset was in the same holder as remote. He picked it up.

Hello? Seven-seven-six-two-one.

Guv, it’s Kinney Robot One. You’ve restricted shouting, so I had to install a mobile phone so I can call you. I read your dairies. Floorboards are not a deterrent to the scanners you installed. Don’t have a tizzy fit. Stay calm and think of the colour yellow.

What? Where did you get a mobile phone?

I bought one when I got you the flag.

How can you be buying flags and phones? Oh no. You’ve got my credit card details.

And your PIN code. You know mine; it’s only fair. Oh and … what was the other thing? … oh, yes. Embrace your sexuality. That’s what the chat show I saw this morning said.

What? I turn the TV off when I go out!

And I turn it right back on. It’s bad enough you lock the place up and I’m stuck in the shed until you get back in the evening. Catch you later, alligator.

Don’t you hang up on me, you rude robot … he hung up. I need help.

Help would be coming. Only, McKinney would never really know how much Jack Landon was needed. The most unlikely choice for a hero might the only way forward.

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CHAPTER 1

THE QUEST BEGINS

Cabbington Ponder Park, North London

1 July 2011

It was eleven in the morning, and already it was a very warm day. When Jack Landon arrived at the park, most people were already taking advantage of the sun. Some women were sunbathing. Most men were peeling off their shirts and flexing. The weather channel billed it as the hottest day yet.

The larger park farther down, Cabbington Meadows, was usually more popular. There was a big lake there, and a lot of people took rowing boats. Today, it seemed a smaller park was preferred. Another lady arrived and started sunbathing without applying any sunscreen.

Cabbington was a very small town, and people soon got to know one another. This is why Jack preferred the smaller park, called Cabbington Ponder Park, as it was empty most of the time. He moved to the fountain, away from the sunbathers and musclemen.

The peaceful atmosphere aided his meditation. The shining sun gave no hint of the danger to come. The gentle trickle of water from the fountain that the bench faced produced a soothing sound, but shortly, even that would fall into the background as the terror began.

Taking a seat on the nearest bench, Jack took off his vest and sat back to sunbathe whilst meditating. Lying down would make him too vulnerable; at least if he were sitting, he could jump up and sprint if needed. Emptying his mind was never easy, as he had a lot going on.

Ever since he’d met Mr McKinney in the bank four years earlier, life had never been the same. He’d inherited Kinney Robot One unexpectedly. Robbers had burst into the bank, and McKinney had tried to stop them. They’d shot him. Max Phenol had also been there and had tried to intervene, but he’d been shot as well. Jack had tried to save both of them.

McKinney had spent his last few minutes of life typing orders for Kinney Robot One into his odd-looking watch. McKinney had then called for Jack. The robbers had fled as if the shooting had scared them. McKinney had grabbed Jack’s wrist, and that was the last thing Jack remembered.

Afterwards, Jack and Max had become fast friends. Everyone thought they were brothers.

Then, a year ago, Jack had been involved in an adventure. That was how he’d met his nemesis. Coping with what Vikotor Brindlesham had done to him was very hard. That awful monster was always in his mind.

Jack had always been the neurotic sort, but the experience had worsened things. His job in a local call centre was at risk because of his declining work performance. The real issue was he lied to Vikotor to survive. It was a dangerous but necessary move. If Vikotor learned the truth, the anger would be intense.

The Prediction

Jack didn’t hear the woman approach until her shadow disturbed him. Tensing, he opened his eyes. The initial fear became relief. It was an old woman with very wrinkly skin, and she wore a dress that looked like a patchwork quilt. There were many squares of different colours that looked hand-sewn together; they flared out into a large skirt. She had quite a few moles on her lower cheeks. She wore an orange scarf tied on her head and an eye patch on her left eye—she looked like a pirate.

She had a very coarse southern accent. Hello, gorgeous. I am Madame Zensky. I can read your future for a fiver.

Jack was never rude, and he tried to be polite. He sat up and started to move. Oh, no. I don’t go in for things like that.

The woman began to sniffle and then held her stomach. I go hungry again. Well, I suppose I might find a morsel in the bin. Look at me, the great Madame Zensky—all because the mean man won’t help. She got out a tissue and began to cry.

Jack didn’t like women crying. How could he help them?

I meant no harm …

The woman started howling loudly, and it being such a quiet place, Jack began to worry that people might be drawn over.

OK, maybe I was hasty. You can read my future. Jack got out his wallet from his shorts’ pocket and took out a five-pound note.

The woman stopped crying and smiled. Oh, I’m very good. You won’t regret it. Madame Zensky at your service. Five pounds is a steal for my gifts.

Yeah, I bet, Jack thought sarcastically.

Zensky sat next to him and asked him to put his hand in hers.

Jack hesitated. Don’t you have a crystal ball?

No. I lost it.

You can’t you use your gift to find it?

She gave him a dirty look. It doesn’t work like that. I am a channel for the universe—portents you wouldn’t understand. Now, put your hand in mine.

Jack sighed and put his hand in the older woman’s.

She became very stiff, and her hazel eyes glazed over. If she was acting, it was splendid. When she spoke next, her voice was firmer.

Vikotor Brindlesham has come to Cabbington. The needed particles call him. What was separated seeks to rejoin. Tinetass Dimensional Rift must evolve. One touch on the target holding the particles, and they will cross. They must rejoin. The Camberforge War will begin.

Jack froze. He had been suspecting a scam about money or false love, not that she would know Vikotor. She had mentioned Vikotor by his full name. Questions whirled in his mind. Vikotor is here? How does she know? Vikotor here? He yanked his hand away, even though she was still talking. He couldn’t understand the words. Vikotor became the focus. He is here …

She gave a couple of big coughs. Eventually she got up but didn’t seem to know which way to go. She paused and then turned and saw him. She smiled at him warmly and spoke normally.

Hello, handsome. I am Madame Zensky. I can read your future for a fiver.

Jack backed away. What? You just did.

She frowned. Did? Did what?

You just said … Vikotor …

Who? No, I have to hold your hand to start. Five pounds—a bargain to gain insight to the future.

Jack’s brain caught up with him. If Vikotor is here …

Run! No, he won’t get me! he yelled and bolted away, leaving his vest on the bench in his haste.

Oh, all right. Three pounds, then, Zensky shouted, and I’ll throw in a meeting with a beautiful girl! Come back. I’m very liberal—for fifty pence extra, it can be a guy.

On the Run

Jack kept running. He took to the woods and refused to go home. Living up in a tree would be preferable to risking meeting the awful villain. Luckily, he still had a couple of weeks of holiday left at work, so he phoned and used them. His manager was happy for him to take them.

Yes, you have a holiday, Jack. That’s the best idea you’ve had all year! his boss, Terry, gleefully replied. He was ecstatic to have two weeks free of mistakes.

You don’t have to sound so happy.

Yes, I do. I might even throw a party! he replied, and he hung up.

So rude.

Jack called Kinney Robot One and told him to come meet him. The robot would be able to find him easily enough. He’d renamed him Kinro Landon. Guessing the PIN code had given him management functions.

Kinro soon arrived. He looked like a version of Mr McKinney with the latex coverings and a grey wig—a version that had had too many facelifts. Wires underneath the latex mimicked facial muscles, allowing Kinro to smile or wink, though he could never blink and had glass eyes over the robotic ones. Kinro ran along at a fast speed until he reached the bottom of the tree trunk.

Kinro spoke in a posh tone. OK, what gives? Why are you up a tree?

Vikotor is here in Cabbington.

Your evidence?

Shush. I’m staying here until he goes.

You know, this is why you need a girlfriend.

No, I don’t.

"Yes, you do. Anyway, you’ll have to come down. I’ve submitted you for Flirty Bar."

What!

You can find true love. Kinro held up a book—it was romance novel he’d been reading. "It happened to Lizzy. With a lot of help, a makeover, new