It was the last day of the month of Mardells and everyone in the Stone knew what that meant, it meant punishment day. On this unusually warm and humid Mardells day they filed out of their grimy barracks to be lined up in the big cobbled yard facing the rough stone plinth and the Judgement Stone upon it. A smooth granite cube, the Judgement Stone, had a chilling inscription carved deeply into it. ‘Let the offending hand be placed upon me.’ Freder knew precisely what that stone held in store for him and everyone else summoned to mount the plinth, pain, lots of pain.
As he shuffled along in the line of boys that were also held in the prison with him they hissed insults and threats at him.
“Going to get you Snark.”
“Don’t fool us Snark, you snitch.”
The men who were already arraigned in the square looked down at him with even less friendly eyes but at least they did not verbally abuse him. Those lined and grim faces that he had come to knew so well in the months he had been locked away here, that never smiled at him or spoke a kind word.
The newcomers face came as a shock to him, not just because it was still a healthy colour, but because the grey green eyes that stared back did so with curiousity, not hate or loathing. Just before he passed this heavy set man he heard a soft intake of breath.
“By the lords.”
But then he was standing facing the stone, trying to stand tall but feeling broken and small. In the few moments before the punishments began he fought back the tears and wondered just what he had done that had been bad, so wrong, to have been roughly shackled and a filthy bag secured over his head in that forbidding building in Lahdarn, then transported like the worst sort of criminal to this horrible prison. When he might have expected just a little sympathy due to his age he found himself at best shunned by the other inmates and at worst harassed by the boys and youths. ‘Snark’ they catcalled at him when no warder was in earshot and softly threatened dire punishments of their own should he complain of any maltreatment. Nor had he received any small favours from the warders, they mercilessly pursued him when he was set his work tasks and punished any attempt to use his left hand and then noted his name in their cruel little black books. The result of those records was that each and every month that he had been locked away in the Stone his left hand had been held down on that unrelenting cube of stone. Then the Chief Warden whipped it with a stout cane because he could only use his left hand to do his work, and that was the crime that they sought to ‘correct’. He had tried to explain to his persecutors that he had an injury that prevented him from using his right hand but all they saw was a sound hand, they did not care to understand that the injury was in his brain and they beat him. Then at the end of the month his name was again on the roll and the Chief Warden was thrashing his one good hand.

“Freder Adams.” One Warder called out, reading from the dreaded roll.
He was nearly always the first. Head hung downwards he trudged up to the plinth and mounted it to stand before the Judgement Stone, seeing that smooth worn patch where so many hands had been laid for the crime of being left handed.
“In blatant contravention of our rules Freder Adams did maliciously use the hand sinister.” The Warder announced stentoriously.
“What shall we do with the hand that offends us ?” The Chief Warden asked in the ritual response.
“Strike it.” Everyone said loudly, for not to would invite punishment.
“Place the hand that offends us upon the stone.” The Chief Warder ordered him, a malicious glint in his little dark eyes.
Freder put his left hand on the cold smooth surface and waited for the caning.
“Do you know what today is Adams ?” The Chief asked him in a loud voice.
“Judgement Day sir.” Freder answered him clearly.
A shiver ran through him, this was not part of the ritual, and he sensed that all was far from well.
“So it is.” The towering figure laughed. “But it is also my birthday.”
“Huzzah !” All the Warders shouted out gleefully.
“And on my birthday I am extra generous to my precious charges, am I not lads ?”
“Yessir !” They all chorused in a way that raised the hairs on the back of Freder’s neck.
“So I am going to be very generous to you young Adams.” The man leered at him.
Freder guessed from the evil laughter of the warders that his punishment was going to be increased from the normal five strokes.
“You are a recidivist Adams, the worst to have blackened my halls in many a year. You continue to use the hand sinister despite all our encouragement.”
More low throaty chuckles came from the black garbed warders as they exchanged nudges and nods, they knew what was about to occur.
“So in my generosity I am going to give you an extra incentive.”
As he spoke the last word he lunged forward to clamp Freders left wrist in his rubber gauntleted hand and brought his right hand into view from behind his back.
There was a horrified gasp from all the inmates as they saw the masons hammer he carried.
“What shall we do with the hand that offends us ?” He shouted into Freder’s stunned face.
“Strike it !” The Warders all yelled, but they shouted alone, for everyone else stared in horror.

There was a low mutter in their ranks.
“Thought you said he was a snark.”
“’Course he is, not a flicker of blue.”
“Snarks don’t get the hammer.”
“He’s a conniving snark, it’s just for show.”
All this seemed very clear to Freder as he stood upon the plinth with the hammer swinging up above the Chiefs head almost ready to fall. Then someone else’s voice sounded urgently in his ear or was it in his head ?
‘Cast off your senses, see beyond !!’
He knew what the hammer would do to his hand and he was beside himself with fear, futiley trying to pull away from the big warders iron hard grip, a wave of darkness roiled up in his mind. It seemed to him that he was falling into darkness and stillness, the world faded from his mind and he was alone.
‘Dowwwwnnnnn.’ The unheard voice said, drawn out, low and urgent.
There down in the dark earth Freder ‘saw’ a silver river. Effervescent lights sparkling so incredibly brightly as they rushed along, a sight so beautiful that he was mesmerised by it, forgetting his peril, forgetting his fear. A part of him that understood power took control and instinctively reached out to touch it. Yet it was not water that he touched, nor indeed did he physically dip his hand into it, rather he immersed his being in it and felt a thrill of power. A power that he knew he could wield, twist it to his will.
He looked up from the depths of that serene ethereal well and saw the hammer begin to fall, slowly so very slowly, but he rose with lightning speed, so alive, so charged, so angry.
He was back in his body, the hammer was swiftly falling and the leering face of the Chief Warder was intently staring down at his fragile hand from behind the bars of his mask, watching for the bloody impact.

“Get off me you gimp !” Freder yelled into that face.
As the Chief Warder began to turn towards him in surprise at his spirited outburst Freder jammed his right hand onto the heavy rubber jacket and let the ‘river’ surge through him like the embodiment of the anger that he felt towards the warder. To the inmates, each of whom had the sight, it was as though the black suited figure was wreathed in cold blue fire that rushed over the slick black rubber surface and found the clammy flesh within. To the other warders, who had no sight at all, they only saw the scrawny boy try to push away from their Chief, who spasmed, the hammer flying from his hand and collapsed heavily onto the hard stone.
“Heart attack.” Someone called out.
“For sure, saw me auld man go that way.” Another told them.
“Needs a doctor, quick.”
That last comment galvanised the Warders into action.
“You lot dismissed !” The senior Warder present shouted while waving frantically at his subordinates to pick up the Chief.
The inmates didn’t hang around, this was a reprieve for many of them and they weren’t going to push their luck by dawdling. But as Freder joined the melee to go to his dorm a hand clamped on his shoulder.
“This way.” The burly fellow hissed at him and used his bulk to mask Freder from being seen by the Warders as he shepherded him into one of the mens dorms.
Freder didn’t like the look of what he saw as he was propelled through the door, all the men standing in two lines, looking out from in between the grubby ranks of bunk beds and at their head one who was seated. Very straight that one man carried himself, very straight and very confident in this room full of beaten and bedraggled men. Freder feared that they were going to punish him too for what he had just done, but the man behind him blocked his escape and he felt the attention of that composed man like a pressure in his head.
“Freder.” He addressed him in a calm voice. “Come here.”
He didn’t want to go past those men, many of them had added torments to those of the Warders, many had hissed ‘snark’ at him in the corridors and workshops. They didn’t look any more friendly today.
“Come Freder, stand before me.” The stranger insisted politely and waved him forward.
So he walked fearfully between those tall ranks, feeling their eyes upon him at every step, but he also felt the memory of the river and the power it harboured; wondering if he could summon it again at need. He stopped in front of the stranger. A black haired man, quite stout, clean shaven with a narrow face and intense grey green eyes. Those eyes now looked at him intently, no, not at him but through him, and beyond to something, somewhere beyond this dingy barracks.

“Who sighted him ?” The man asked quietly after his silent contemplation of Freder.
“Askem master.” One of those nearby answered.
“No other ?”
There was a long pause.
“No master.”
The man took the time to run his gaze around the assembled men.
“Not one of you thought to verify the sighting.” He said with shake of his head. “Have you forgotten your lore or have they beaten it out of you ?” He asked them with a harsh edge to his voice. “Three. Three for the sighting lest one be blind.”
“But Stannous, Askem, he’s the best, didn’t see a flicker of blue.” The man to the strangers right said.
“Them’s his words Stannous, for sure.” Came a supporting voice.
“Not a flicker of blue.” The stranger said standing up and then giving a small sad laugh. “Well I’ll give him that. Young Freder doesn’t have a blue hue in his aura.”
There was a little nervous laughter, an easing of the tension.
“But what do you see now my brothers ? Now that you have had the cobwebs swept from your sight ?” He challenged them enthusiastically.
“Hint of purple.” Someone volunteered.
The stranger nodded.
“Lords preserve us.” That came from beside Freder, he turned to see a tiny man, barely bigger than himself. “He’s a dark ‘un.”
“Yes Mikal, he has a dark aura. This is beyond any aura we have seen for nearly two centuries of our order. I can only see a little of his aura but what I see is magnificent and powerful.” He looked around the room and smiled broadly. “Powerful in just those arts that we are weak. That vatenloeker was chains deep and I could only sense it, but Freder.” He paused to step forward and place a hand on his shoulder. “Freder harnessed it. This my brothers is no snark, he is a gift that the capricious Hand have given to us. A gift that we shall use well.”

There was a happy hum of conversation at the announcement and for the first time since he had entered the Stone Freder did not feel quite so afraid of these men.
“Come Freder, we must talk, you are not what I expected.” The stranger said and the men parted to allow them to find a private corner.
“Sir.” Freder said timidly as they sat facing one another on two bunk beds. “They addressed you as master, who are you ?”
“I am master Stannous Sulfatto, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance Freder Adams.” He said with a broad smile and held out his left hand. “You are among friends here Freder, though I admit they have been less than charitable until now because of one mans mistake.”
“What’s a snark then ?” Freder asked more boldly, still eying the hand with suspicion.
“A spy of the Hand. Someone put amongst us to learn our secrets, our true identities.”
“Why was I branded a snark ? I don’t know who you people are, I don’t know why I’m here. The Righteous Hand hates me, everyone here hates me.” He said miserably.  “I miss my brother.”
“Some of those questions I can and will answer Freder. I also apologise for the treatment my brothers have given you and I promise that should you join us full reparation will be made. Come, will you not share the good arm with me Freder ?”
Hesitantly Freder extended his left hand and Stannous gripped him around the forearm, nodded to his own when Freder didn’t follow suit, then grinned broadly when he finally gripped the proferred arm.
“Who am I ?” Stannous asked rhetorically stroking his chin. “I am a master in the Brotherhood of the Good Arm, or a wizard of the Sinisteres as the Hand would call us. We are men and women who, like you Freder, have a gift. A gift you just exercised at the punishment parade.”
“What was that ? How did I do it ?” Freder gabbled, he wanted to know so much about what he had felt and done.

“You really are unaware of us.” Stannous said in astonishment. “You have no idea what you are capable of. I could scarcely believe the reports that you had been locked up here in the Stone, especially when we saw what your brother was up to.” He mused.
“My brother, Josef. You’ve seen him ! Where is he ? How is he ?” Freder demanded excitedly, he hadn’t had any contact with him since their separation in Lahndarn.
“Shhhh.” Stannous raised a warning finger. “A good few here are ignorant of him and better it stays that way for your own good.”
“But I haven’t seen him for ages, not even had a letter from him.” Freder protested quietly.
“That will be the Hands doing.” Stannous said with a furrowed brow. “I will tell you what I know. Your brother is in Lahndarn. The Hand have given him a house in Hempstead Heath with servants aplenty and more than that they have given him a laboratory and the best of equipment.” He paused to see if Freder had any comment.
“Josef is very good at science, he loves physics and stuff.” Freder informed him.
Jo would love having a proper lab to do experiments in.
“Uhmm. Well he is engaged in some study of galvanics, he consults with the best scientists in Britannia and the word we hear is that he astounds them with his understanding. A veritable genius it seems.”
“Huh ?” This didn’t seem possible to Freder. True in comparison with himself Josef was a real braniac but that didn’t make him a genius.
“He can do something that all those learned men cannot, he can do this without a flame.” Stannous said, closed his eyes momentarily and brought his hands together in a tight ball then parted his fingers to allow a bluish light to emanate between them.

“Wow !” Freder gasped at the sight. “Can you teach me to do that ?”
Stannous glanced at him and parted his hands abruptly, whereupon the light faded and died.
“A simple party trick, but it’s as much as I can raise in this hellhole. What I wish to know is how your brother can make light without a flame, and no feeble light either they say.”
“He’s got a torch, do you mean that ?” Freder enquired.
“Torch ? It’s just a little bright flame then ?”
“No it’s an LED.”
“Elleedee ?” Stannous repeated. “What manner of object is that ?”
“I don’t really know, I just know that it’s a really bright light.”
“No gas ?”
“Gas ? No just a battery.”
“Guns ? Are you playing word games Freder ? I’d advise against it.”
“A battery, like you put in a Walkman, or, or a mobile phone.”
“You try my patience Freder.” Stannous said darkly.
“No, no you don’t understand.” Freder answered him with tears filling his eyes. “Where I’m from we have all these things that you haven’t got, you don’t even know what they are. You haven’t even got modern trains or planes.”
Stannous regarded him thoughtfully for a moment.
“There was strange talk of your origins, no record of you or your brother. Not even from the Protectorates of Virginia. But how can there be more modern trains than those of Britannia ?” He questioned changing tack. “We make the finest steam turbines in the world and our locomotives are unchallenged for speed.”
“See, steam engines. We go to a museum to see steam engines.” Freder pointed out to his inquisitor, his frayed nerves bringing him close to an emotional breakdown. “They’re old, out of date.”
“A museum ? Then what manner of locomotive have you in your land ?”
“Electric.” He replied automatically.
“And what is electric ?”

Freder just gawped at him, how could someone not know about electricity ? How could he even begin to explain ? He just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Why was he in this horrible nightmare world ? But even as this part of him was losing control a darker part was rising, rising and reaching for power. Freder felt the strange itch again and looked upwards as the small filthy windows all lit up with an intense blue white flash followed almost immediately by a huge crack of thunder.
“There !” He pointed up at the windows. “That, that’s electricity.”
“By the Lords, galvanism, you mean galvanism.” Stannous said in a wondering tone.
A second blue flash seared through the grimy windows and the thunder boomed fit to break the glass it was so loud.
Stannous jumped to his feet and stared around wildly, then crossed his arms over his chest and half closed his eyes, looking out beyond the confining walls, out into the disturbed ether.
“Master !” A man came running up. “The storm.”
“Ahhh.” Stannous smiled and looked down at Freder. “The storm. The work of our young friend I see.”
Then those sharp gleaming grey green eyes were penetrating Freder, seeing beyond him.
“Your bloods up isn’t it Freder ?” He grinned. “You feel it, your storm.”
Freder certainly felt it, the itch was almost unbearable and he was very frightened because he recalled the last time he had felt this sensation. The day of the thunderstorm that chased him and his brother. The day when the lightning that had hurled them into this strange and hostile world.

“Well, time to go then.” Stannous said in a matter of fact tone. “Tobias, Charlie, and you Mikal, with me and the boy. The rest of you be ready, you all know your roles. We may not have had much time to rehearse but today’s the day my brothers.” He announced marching down the ranks of the men who seemed to have grown to Freder, standing tall and proud now.
“Clear the door !” He ordered them and everyone scrambled away from the end of the barracks.
“Showtime !” Stannous laughed and swung his left arm as through underarm bowling.
Lightning struck the heavy door with a mighty bang, ripping it asunder.
With a concerted roar the men poured out through the shattered remnants with a single purpose in mind, breakout !
Stannous glanced down at Freder, grinned wildly and then very deliberately blew over the fingers of his left hand.
“Come.” He ordered him and they walked out into the torrential rain with the three other men in close formation.
Almost immediately Freder felt the lightning seeking him out and lurched sideways trying to escape it only to find Stannous hand firmly upon his arm.
“Stand your ground Freder, you are our lightning rod, but it won’t touch you. Oh no, I have a far better use for it !” He roared joyfully and bent his aura skywards to catch and direct a strike that bore earthwards.
The high wall was struck and struck hard, stone cracked, blistered and broke. A second strike was caught by the little man Mikal and hurled into the ruin rent by the first. The stone exploded outwards in a lethal shower lashing the Warders accommodation just beyond it and pulverising the flimsy wooden structure. A third strike sizzled into the smoke choked hole and caught the timber alight.

“Smokin’.” Mikal growled with undisguised pleasure.
But Freder could hear the screams of men caught in the burning wreckage and the sounds made him want to run away from these fearsome men, run and hide from the storm, the lightning, everything. But Stannous’ right hand remained clamped on his shoulder, there was no escape.
On every side the scene was of destruction and carnage. Still bodies of the warders wrapped in their protective rubber uniforms lay at random where they had been struck down. Doors either hung off ruined hinges or were reduced to matchwood by the violence of their destruction. Proud men strode between the dormitories fearless in their power, flinging bolts of energy where they willed it, harvesting the storms fire that crawled like a living livid net over the once dead stone walls.
“Out !” Stannous ordered and the men turned from their acts of destruction to the hole in the once impenetrable wall of the Stone, gathering swiftly from every corner of the prison to line up and scramble outside. Their own little party came out last to emerge between two lines of cheering men, their faces painted red by the burning wreckage beyond them.
Stannous waved magnanimously to them whilst the other three fended off the strikes that still came streaking in towards Freder. At the end of the line they stopped and turned about, the men sensed the change in Stannous aura and they all quickly withdrew well away from the prison walls and gleefully waited for the final act.
Stannous held his left arm aloft, sweat beading his brow, his whole body trembling as though he was holding up the whole sky; then snatched it down and punched forward.
Five lightning bolts lanced into the wall and blasted it to rubble in a blinding pulse of light and gut wrenching sound.
Freder buried himself in the master’s side at that appalling destruction.
“Sorry Freder.” Stannous said looking down at him with a slightly sorrowful expression and reached down to gently touch his temple.
For Freder everything abruptly went black.