CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Pete opened his eyes. What happened? Where am I? Then he
remembered. “Dad…?” he said aloud.
“I’m
here, son,” Tim Wright had no trouble accessing the boy’s mind in his persona
as Timon, erstwhile Holy Seer of Mamelon.
Reassured
by his father’s voice, albeit in his head, Pete naturally wanted to know what
on earth was happening to him.
In
leafy Tonbridge Wells, Tim-Timon pondered the question a while before
answering. He could hardly tell his son the truth, that he was being used as
bait to distract Ragund while Gabriel persuaded Pers to play his part. “Do you
trust me, Peter?”
“Yes,
Dad, of course I do.”
“Then
listen carefully. You don’t have to do anything, just relax and leave
everything to me. There are forces at work that mean harm to the elves of Gar
and all Mamelon. It is up to us, me and you, to see they fail. Lie, down, relax
and empty your mind of all things but The Okay Song. Run it through several
times in your head and you will soon start to feel sleepy. It may well be you
will experience nightmares, a sense of being tugged first one way and then
another. Fear not, for I will keep you safe. Should you feel an urge to go with
one pull or the other, you must sing The Okay Song, aloud if necessary. I will
help you. I will be with you every step of the way and lend you what support I
can. Am I making any sense?”
“Not
really,” responded Pete with customary forthrightness, “But I get the general
idea. Someone’s out to get me and it’s down to us to make damn sure they don’t,
right?”
“Right…”
Tim smiled inwardly. It was so typical of his youngest son to hit the
proverbial nail on its head without resorting to circumlocution or ‘waffle’ as
Pete would have it. “So are you up for it?”
“Do
I have a choice?” Tim hesitated. “Look,” Pete continued with a cheeky grin,
it’s okay day, Dad, really. I get it.
Whatever needs to be done is important and any risks… Well, I’m game if you
are. I sort of miss home, but I’ve sort of got to like it here too. It’s weird,
really weird, but the people here, they are a sort of extended family if you
know what I mean…”
Yet
again, Tim marvelled at his son’s uncanny perception of what had to be a mind
blowing situation for anyone, let alone someone his age. “I know exactly what
you mean, son, and in a way, you’re right. I lived among these people once.
Like you, I want to save them if I can.”
““But
what if we can’t? Save them, I mean…What happens then? To them, to us, to me…?”
Tim
swallowed hard. He had dreaded the question. “I don’t know, but that is for me
to worry about and you to put out of your head. Whatever happens, I guarantee
your safe return home, yours and Michael’s.”
“What
about Beth?”
“Beth,
too,” he lied. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he suspected Bethany
Martin would not be living next door again in any near or distant future. “Are
you ready?”
“As
ready as I’ll ever be, and don’t you worry, Dad, if ever anyone was a match for
Ragund, it’s you. I assume that’s who we’re up against?”
Not so much who as what,
reflected Tim grimly. “Spot on,” he agreed, “Now, just relax and run over The
Okay Song in your head until you fall asleep, and keep reminding yourself not
to worry about a thing. I’ve got your back, okay? Should you experience any ups
and downs or the occasional nasty jolt, just imagine you’re on the roller
coaster ride at Margate. Do you remember how we all visited Auntie Bev there
last year and went to Dreamland?”
“Yeah,
it was great,” Pete chuckled, “Auntie Bev’s straw hat blew away!”
“That’s
right, it did. Your auntie Bev was frantic because it was her favourite hat.”
“Win
some, lose some,” Pete laughed without realizing how the comment would cut his
father to the quick.
Win some, lose some, indeed,
mused the erstwhile Holy Seer grimly as he set about preparing himself for the
battle to come. Oh, but if it were only
Ragund… He could defeat Ragund, he was certain of it, despite the Dark Mage
being a worthy if sly and cunning opponent. Yes, Ragund alone was vulnerable.
But Ragund with Xaruki magic on his side, possibly even able to summon powers
attributed to Xu himself…
In
spite of his self-confidence, Timon began to tremble for thinking of the
enormity of the task that lay ahead, so daunting and no less likely to fail as
it was to succeed. Great Ri, help me and
stay with me for my people if not for this unworthy servant, he prayed silently, much relieved that your
Peter had already closed his eyes.
…………………………..
In Lunis, City of
Moons, the Dark Mage, Ragund, was almost ready to tackle the supreme task of
his life, the result of extensive examination of countless archives whose dusty
covers, yellowing pages, and faded inks pre-dating more lifetimes than any
living human, elf, Foss, Krill, druid or, yes, even mage could either recall or
would have ever dared attempt delving into the darkest corners of knowledge and
magic.
He frowned. Where was
Shireen? He had conducted a thorough mind search to the extent of seeking out
her wardings with a view to penetrating them despite a longstanding agreement
that each would respect the other’s privacy, so anxious was he to locate her
and reassure himself that she posed no threat to his master plan. Besides, she was a good lover and he did not
want to lose her. He knew about her relationship with Radik, the Krill leader,
of course. But it meant nothing more than sex. Radik was a fool. He, Ragund,
however was a match for Shireen in such ways of mind and spirit that the likes
of Radik were incapable of imagining even in their wildest dreams. Yes, we are good together, Shireen and I, he
mused almost fondly, so why can I detect no trace of her, only
absence?
Not for the first time,
Ragund had cause to wonder if whomsoever was aiding Astor was also behind
Shireen’s mysterious disappearance. But,
why, what could he possibly hope to gain? Reluctant though he was to put a
name to his unexpected adversary, he no longer doubted his worst suspicions. A
smile lit up the hawkish visage. Ah, but
a worthy opponent indeed. He could have asked for none better. Oh, and how much sweeter my victory to see
the meddling fool trodden under foot by Xu himself.
That he would emerge
the victor in the battle ahead, Ragund was in no doubt and then…To the victor, the spoils, all Mamelon and
more besides… He preened himself before a nearby, full size mirror and any
that may have heard the ghastly rasping sound that erupted from his throat
would have been hard pressed to recognize it for laughter.
……………………………
The instant Pers opened
his eyes, he knew he was home. He could smell it, the distinctive smell of the
forest. He could feel it, too, his love
for Gar and it for him, embracing him as one might a returning traveller.
Instinctively, he returned that embrace and felt all the better for it. Nor did
he feel any surprise at finding the Motherworld boy, Peter, asleep beside him.
It was all so…expected, although he could not for the life of him have said
why. So when Astor appeared, he was not unnerved. He has been vaguely aware of
the White Mage’s presence for some time before he acknowledged it. I am ready, he told himself if ready for
quite what he had no idea.
“You are rested, Pers?”
“I am rested, Astor.”
“You will be wondering
what is happening to you…”
“I wonder only that I
am home and my parents are not here to greet me. For the rest, I dare say you
will enlighten me soon enough.” He sat up and looked the druid in the eye with
uncharacteristic self-confidence.
“You have a task ahead,
elf, that will not be an easy one but it is one you must choose if Mamelon is
not to be trodden under the heel of a dark magic to which no words can do
justice.”
“Ragund…?”
“Ragund’s efforts are
but child’s play to that which he intends to invoke and let loose upon all
Mamelon and more besides,” Astor growled.
Pers paled. “Xaruki…?”
Astor started in surprise. He had not expected such perception. “I am not the
fool many take me for, druid,” Pers said quietly.
Astor felt more
reassured than he had for some time. “The Fire Tree…” he began,
“…requires a sacrifice,
right?” Astor nodded, slightly bemused by the elf’s directness. “…and I am to
be it, right?”
“Only…”
“Only if I agree, yes,
I get that. But do I have choice?”
“We all have choices…”
“Don’t play games with
me, Astor. Do I or do I not have a choice?”
“Not if you wish to
save your people, Mamelon, and quite possibly the Motherworld also,” Astor told
him bluntly.
“Then it is as I
thought, I have no choice. Tell me what I must do and I will do it.”
“If you are sure, but
if you have any doubts…”
“Of course I have
doubts,” Pers snapped, “but we both know there is no time to look into and
attempt to remedy them. Get on with it. Druid, and let us not waste our breaths
a moment longer. What will be, will be…” he added, echoing the last words his
mother had managed to communicate. Did Astor know, he wondered, that she had
visited him? Her dream-self had found
its way into his unconscious self despite wardings planted by forces more
powerful than any devised by druids... He had felt this, and been less shocked than he might have been at her
haggard appearance. Haggard was not a word anyone
associated with the elf-queen. Choose
well, my son, she had said during that fleeting appearance which had
clearly drained her of more energy than expected …but remember your DO have a choice and no one will think less of you
for not trusting a druid. He means well, I think, but he can no more guarantee
success or failure than I. Whatever your decision, it must be yours and yours
alone. Let the love your father and I bear you be your guide for that is as
unchangeable as it is timeless. I…” But the much loved musical voice had
trailed away and was gone as suddenly as it had come before he had time to even
to reassure her.
…………………………..
Much as Ragund would
have welcomed Shireen’s moral support, he was committed to proceed with or
without it. Permitting himself a sardonic smile of gleeful anticipation, he
stared into the flames and began the chant that would enable him to engage with
the Xaruki, perhaps even with Xu himself. Until now, he had only descended as
far in to the murky depths of an ages-old magic as he dared for fear of being
unable to enact his return. Now, though, was the moment of truth. He had, after
all, spent a lifetime of studying archives, interpreting, misinterpreting and
reinterpreting them in order to extract no small degree of success for his
efforts. Mamelon had water once more. He had been denied a part in that, for
which certain meddling forces would pay dearly. Soon, though, Mamelon would be
relieved of its coppery gloom and returned to natural light. And it will be down to me, ME. I alone will
decide where the water will flow and where it will not, where fruits of the
soil will grow and where they will not, who will live and who will become less
even than kikiri, left to wander the spirit world alone since even the dead
will disown them. …
He concentrated until
he was unaware of his body or even any alter ego, letting his mind run freely
along dark passages that boasted neither walls nor floors nor ceilings but
comprising of pure light, now growing darker and darker until there was only a
pitch blackness programmed to refuse entry by the darkest of dark forces but
which cried out to be penetrated and negotiated; the blackest of all black
magic, tapped into and revived from a sleep of which time itself hadn’t the
measure.
Deeper, deeper, a sense
of ‘almost there’ although where that could be was anyone’s guess…
Suddenly, an
intrusion…! An unknown force or forces
began pulling on the free falling mind, attempting to drag it into an orbit of
sorts that would prevent any further progress.
Even as his mind
engaged in a tug-of-war with what could only be another’s, Ragund could not
prevent his body screaming with excruciating pain. Yet even pain could be used
as a weapon, and he did not hesitate to harness it as such, directing its power
at the heart of this unforeseen threat, temporarily causing it to falter while
he employed every ounce of willpower left to him to force a way out of the
Darkness into the long forgotten heartland of the Xaruki.
A
glimmer, a tear in the Darkness, almost there… What
remained of body and spirit that was Ragund the Dark Mage, engaged with him,
mind-speak engaging with itself in the absence of all time and space, only ego
pressing him to rip open the tear and be assimilated into the Xaruki,
Almost
there, almost…
Suddenly, the tear
opened wider and the head of a bull-like beast appeared, eyes like burning
coals, horns ripping into frantically at the Darkness in a desperate attempt to
break through to the other side, access the mind that was Ragund.
Xu…!
No sooner had what
little remained to Ragund of any thought processes registered this fact that it
also became aware of another presence looming into the inner eye much like a
pure white unicorn, head bowed, its single horn aiming directly for the raging
bull’s head.
Ri…!
As the bull tossed its
head and managed to avoid the first thrust of the unicorn’s horn, Ragund
experienced a sensation he had not expected. Suddenly he was in the grip of an
unimaginable terror. He struggled to retreat into his body, allow mind and
spirit to be reconciled and feed life back into its natural form. Even as he
began to float upwards, he remained aware of the battle below, a battle already
lost, the unicorn sure of victory unless the bull could escape its own,
self-perpetuating Darkness. The latter was unlikely. Ragund experienced a
heartbeat. He, at least was on the winning side. Forewarned is forearmed. Next
time, he would be better prepared for such a distraction.
Distraction…?
Word and question
hovered, taunted, and finally ensnared him more effectively than any Darkness.
Could it be that he had
been gravely mistaken to work on the red haired motherworld boy, fire sign
though he surely was?
The
elf…!
Ragund brooded hotly,
rage and self-recrimination joining forces to help to raise his floating
subconscious from the Black Hole it had made for itself. Ri had always sided
with elves, hence the Fire Tree at the heart of Gar. He, Ragund, had always
assumed it stood to remind all who looked upon it of the power of fire, how Xu
may have lost the Great Battle but had made His mark sufficiently to reduce
Mamelon slowly but surely to dust. But Xu had reckoned without the power of
Light over Darkness. That was the
meaning of the Fire Tree, a continuation of a battle between gods left in
stalemate because neither was able to strike the final blow without…
Without
what…what have I missed?
He, Ragund, had
unknowingly continued the battle on Xu’s behalf thanks to his accessing the
darker secrets of the Xaruki… And if He
can only break through before the unicorn strikes, I, Ragund, will have struck
the final blow for which Xu will surely reward me and work through me but only…
Only
if, what…? Only pure goodness can defeat pure evil, and…
The
elf…! That is the meaning of this distraction. The elf is naive but innocent,
and what is more pure than innocence, especially innocence offered up in a
godly cause. I have been tricked. Astor and …but I will defeat them yet, I
WILL.
Back in his own body
and room, fire dwindling, Ragund could not help but surrender to an exhausted
mind, body, and spirit.
The Dark Mage slept
even as flames continued to flicker and cast shadows on a wall that much
resembled two great beasts engaging in a battle royal.
Meanwhile, in the
ages-old Forest of Gar, where buds were starting to appear on the branches of
its trees, Peter Wright tossed and turned on the ground, sweating profusely and
frequently crying out in an agony he was beyond feeling. For his own part, all
Astor could do was watch, helplessly, and pray Gabriel was as capable of all
he, Astor, believed he was, and more so. But
if he should fail for underestimating Ragund, as many have and paid dearly for
it… or the Motherworld boy resists Gabriel’s powers…or young Pers loses his
courage… what then…?
What
then, indeed?
The White Mage shivered despite the clammy heat. By way of a
distraction, he wiped the squirming boy’s burning forehead with a cloth dipped
moments earlier into a stream already gathering pace as it passed them on its
way to Lunis, City of Moons.
.
