The Magic Lands Read online

  WILD WATERS

  Thunder roared.

  "What was that?" said Tom, sitting up suddenly.

  He and Lisa had been there together for what felt like an eternity. And he truly wished that this time with her would go on forever.

  "It's nothing," Lisa told him, stroking his cheek softly, "lay back down. Don’t worry about it."

  Needing little persuasion Tom settled back, letting his face nestle against her golden hair. But as he did so the sound came again, booming very much like a muffled thunderclap, and yet it did not come from far off in the distance, it came from somewhere close by.

  "Something's going on," he said, getting to his feet now.

  "Leave it be," Lisa urged him, frowning just a little. "You're safe here with me. Don't go courting trouble." She reached up, catching his hand and pulled gently for him to sit down beside her again, but Tom resisted letting her fingers slip from his to fall idly into her lap.

  "Where's it coming from?" he queried, tilting his head to one side, listening carefully. Almost at once, the rumbling sound reached them a third time and Tom turned to look down at the girl, curiosity governing his thoughts. "It sounds like some kind of explosion," he speculated.

  "What does it matter?" Lisa said to him, her eyes fixed on his. "Can it be so important it’s worth leaving me for?"

  When Tom gazed at her it made him feel strange inside, as if he were floating, weightless and free. The time they had shared together was more special than anything he had ever known in his life. "I never want to leave you," he said slowly, "but I can't just ignore things and hope they’ll go away." Lowering her eyes, Lisa became silent. "You have to understand," continued Tom, hoping desperately that she would be able to.

  Lisa lifted her face and Tom could see the sadness that she felt. "But I don’t."

  "It’s hard…hard to explain," he stammered, finding it impossible to put into words what he knew to be true. "But there are people who need me, people who have put their faith in me."

  "I need you," she said flatly, turning away from him, and Tom felt empty inside, his heart aching.

  A loud boom shook the air, followed closely by another, and the need to find out what it was pulled at him with an urgency he couldn't explain.

  "It sounds like it's coming from just over those hills," he said, pointing vaguely. "I'll be back before you know it. I just have to see what it is."

  A tear ran down across Lisa's cheek, a tiny symbol of despair that aroused emotions in Tom that were new and frightening to him, their intensity almost more than he could bear.

  "If you go, you'll never come back," she said, her voice very quiet. And something in the way she spoke, as if it had already taken place, made him believe her. But of course, it wouldn't be like that. He would always come back to her. She meant more to him than anything else in the world.

  "Anything?" she asked him, making him wonder if he were really dreaming now and would soon awaken to find himself all alone again. "I would do anything to keep you with me," she whispered, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of her blouse.

  "Listen to me," Tom told her gently, kneeling down and putting his arms around her, "please don't cry. If you're so afraid I won't come back, why don't you come with me?"

  But as he said this, Lisa pulled away from him. "I can't leave the little ones all alone…the Wolf might come."

  The Wolf.

  For a while he had nearly forgotten all about the enemy, but now his memory burned with a bestial visage, malignant eyes taunting him. The White Wolf had been playing games with him all along, perverse tests to break his spirit, but Tom wasn't broken yet.

  "I'll be back as quickly as I can," he said without looking Lisa in the eye and he made to stand up, but the girl tugged on his arm urgently, forcing him back to her.

  "Please, Tom," she begged him, her eyes pools of tears, "don't go away."

  It was not enough. He had thought it would be but it wasn’t. He couldn't just close his eyes, or let them be closed for him.

  Taking her hand from his arm, he squeezed it tenderly and then smiled at her, his own tears pressing for release. "I love you," he said in a shaky voice and then turned and walked toward where the sound seemed to have come from. Behind him all was quiet, but he dared not look back to see if she was crying.

  Moving hurriedly, Tom made his way over a series of grassy knolls, the sound calling to him at irregular intervals. Still the sea air teased him, promising to reveal its source but each rise in the land denied his expectations.

  On and on he trekked, all the time aware that something was wrong, knowing that he was leaving Lisa further and further behind, and yet he would not give up and turn back. The sky began to darken as another crash resounded, very close now, and this spurred him on, his determination to find out what it was driving him forward.

  Climbing to the brow of still another high mound, he could see only more of the same in front of him, and frustrated, he broke into a run, clambering with frantic speed across the undulating landscape.

  Tom gasped for breath, pushing himself harder, everything around him beginning to blur as he ran faster and faster.

  "You won't beat me," he vowed as he scaled one exceptionally steep hill, using handfuls of grass to pull himself to the summit, his whole body aching with the effort, his pulse hammering in his head.

  And then, it was there. Blue and vast and wondrous.

  As if he had never seen the ocean before, he merely stood there, on top of the hill and stared out across that shimmering expanse, hardly feeling the brisk wind that came in from the sea, dishevelling his hair and cooling the sweat on his brow.

  Abruptly, his eyes focused on something out upon the water and he immediately knew that what he saw was the cause of all the commotion.

  A ship, belaboured by the heightening gust and obviously having great difficulty holding its position, lay a short distance off from the coastline. And even as Tom watched her rising upon the strident waves, another thunderous explosion was heard, a terrible cry that issued from the vessel, and below where he stood, perhaps two hundred yards away to his right, something heavy smashed into the beach, violently ripping into the sand and sending debris flying into the air.

  The ship was firing its cannons right at him!

  But why?

  He feared he had run straight to the enemy and while he considered what he might do, Tom saw that his question might very well soon be answered, for heading toward the shore, oars forcing them onward, a longboat was approaching, manned by at least a half-a-dozen figures.

  As they had come about to face the island, the sea had changed. Not gradually, but all at once, the waters suddenly swirling wildly, the ship buffeted by fierce waves. Instantly, Captain Welles had barked some orders at his first mate and the crew had gone to work.

  Jack didn't really understand what was going on as he clung to the rail and watched them bustle about, scrambling across the deck and climbing the rigging, but he guessed they were making every effort to hold their position. The way the vessel was being battered, thrown to-and-fro by the wild waters, he could see it would not be an easy task.

  Then Dredger appeared at his side, upright and apparently unconcerned, feet planted firmly apart on the heaving deck, one hand cupped to his mouth. "Welles!" he cried out, his voice audible even above the onslaught of wind and waves.

  From the twilight sky rain began to fall, adding to their misery, and assailed from both sea and sky, his clothes soaked through though he cowered behind Dredger, Jack shuddered, the thought of drowning working its way into his mind.

  "Welles!" Dredger bellowed a second time, but the other man either didn't hear or simply chose to ignore him, for he continued to direct his crewmen, furiously giving out orders, pursuing anyone who failed to obey quickly enough.

  Striding over to the Captain, the warrior grabbed him by the arm, turning him around roughly. "Welles," he hissed, "how long can you hold our position without endangering the ship?"
/>   With a cynical smile, his face and beard dripping with sea water, the seaman gave Dredger a belligerent glare. "If it gets any worse," he growled, "I'll have to head her back to Pelagian. I'll not risk running her aground on the rocks for the sake of a few coins!"

  The warrior returned his smile, apparently full of good humour. "Tell your men to fire their cannons at the beach."

  Welles stared at Dredger with wide eyes. "And why in heaven's name would I be doing that?"

  "Because, my dear Captain, it will bring whoever, or whatever, we are to find on that island to us, saving us the trouble of searching for it. Time is, in this instance, of the essence, is it not?"

  Although the Captain was sceptical, he still felt obliged, whilst he were able to do so without unduly jeopardising his ship and crew, to follow the warrior's instructions.

  "Flanders!" he hollered to his first mate, the rain lashing at him savagely, "make ready the cannons!"

  The sailor eyed his Captain for a moment in confusion. "The cannons, sir?"

  "That's what I said, man," Welles growled, "and the island is our target!" Flanders knew better than to argue with his Captain, having served with the man on many a long and hazardous voyage, but all the same he couldn't help but hesitate. "Just do it!" snapped Welles, his own doubts kept to himself for the moment.

  Dredger looked on as the cannons were made ready to fire and then the first mate himself, brandishing a fuel soaked torch, put flame to powder and the first cannon-ball was dispatched, the volume of its report deafening even amidst the storm.

  Jack had to cover his ears as the ship trembled beneath him, convinced that the planks were about to shatter, or the masts break in two and come hurtling down on their heads. When neither of these calamities occurred, he began to regain his composure and hardly flinched when the second cannon was fired, not because he wasn't frightened by it, or what its consequences might be, but because Mo was there, striding through the rain and the sea-spray, coming toward them.

  "What is this?" he asked Dredger stiffly, the elements uniting to rock the ship alarmingly, making it difficult for both men to keep their footing.

  "There is no time to be wasted on pleasantries," was the curt reply. "We must bring whatever it is that we seek out into the open. This seems like as good a way as any."

  Jack couldn't stay out of this. He was just as much a part of what was going on as his two companions. "What happens," he called making his way over to them, grabbing at anything remotely stable to get there, "if it can't come to us?"

  Mo nodded his agreement. "A good point, Jack. And it would also appear that Dredger has not considered the possibility of harming whatever life might inhabit the island." But the warrior made no response to these protests, only gazing through the storm at the distant island as the sound of intermittent cannon fire continued. "We have no choice but to go there ourselves," Mo announced at last, "whilst we still can."

  "And how will you do this?" queried Dredger, sarcasm in his tone. "Will you walk on water!?"

  Mo pushed past him with a scowl and went a short distance along the deck before coming to a halt. "Captain Welles!" he shouted at the seaman, who at that moment was engaged in passionate conversation with the first mate.

  Giving the sailor a terse instruction, the Captain dismissed him and came quickly over to where Mo stood, grimacing through his bedraggled beard. "We must be away from here," he pressed, his eyes warily scanning the faces of his passengers. "The ship can't take this kind of battering for much longer!"

  "Make ready the longboat," said Mo calmly, apparently oblivious to the Captain's concerns. "We must be swift."

  Welles raised his eyes skyward, a look of complete bafflement on his face. "You're both madmen!" he stated, glancing at Dredger.

  "Please do not argue, Captain," Mo said briskly. "Just do as I ask."

  The seaman hesitated and seemed about to object further, before turning away to communicate with his first mate once more.

  "Will you come, Jack?" Mo asked, beckoning to him and with a nod, the boy went to stand at his side.

  "Let it be on your own heads!" Dredger snarled, as they made to go. "But I at least shall remain here, for even if you are willing to throw away your lives, I am not."

  "You value your skin so highly?" questioned Mo, fixing the warrior with his gaze.

  "I know its worth," returned Dredger coolly and for a moment the two men stared at each other as if waiting for the other to say something more. Then Mo turned away and went purposefully to where several sailors were battling hard, their backs bent in an effort to operate the pulleys that would lower the longboat, and laying his hand upon the cable, set about lending them whatever aid he could.

  Looking on, Jack had started to have second thoughts. Taking to the dangerous waters in what was really no more than a wooden tub, compared to The Spiritwalker, terrified him and he had to wonder if Mo actually knew what he was doing.

  The boat slapped down into the water and a rope ladder was lowered to it and the first of the men who would accompany them climbed over the side and descended to the waiting craft.

  Was this suicide, as Dredger seemed to think?

  Following Mo into the boat and settling down beside him, Jack thought about it capsizing and imagined the water stealing into his lungs, filling his nose and mouth, dragging him down into its hidden depths, and it was all he could do to keep himself in his seat.

  Maybe Dredger was right. Maybe it was madness to try to reach the land whilst the swollen waters warned them so unmistakably to stay away.

  After all, what could be so important on that island that it was worth risking their lives for?

  It had begun to rain and Tom huddled down not merely as protection from the biting wind, but also to conceal himself.

  From his position on the rocky hillside, he watched as the crew of the longboat brought it finally to the beach, four men jumping out to pull the craft through the water onto the sand. Once safely landed, others also disembarked, spreading out a little as they trudged ashore, and it was only then that Tom saw something that made his heart leap and his mouth open involuntarily as if he would cry out, but no sound escaped him.

  There, standing beside a tall man who reminded Tom in many ways of Dredger, was a young boy who looked very much like Jack, and the likeness was so striking that Tom immediately forgot all about hiding and stood up, so that he might get a better look at the figures below.

  Instantly, one of the crewmen saw him and pointed, shouting as he did so, drawing the others attention. But Tom didn’t care that he had been seen, such was his amazement and he just remained there, staring down, heedless of any danger he might be in, heedless of the storm that tore at him upon that exposed height, his eyes piercing the rain, transfixed on the boy.

  It was Jack, he was certain of it.

  The clothes were different from those his friend had worn when they were last together, but everything else, his posture, his whole attitude, said that it could only be Jack.

  Or was this yet another wile of the Wolf? Another trial to test his courage and resolve?

  Tom didn't know if he could stand that. He had been through so much already.

  Tentatively, he raised his arm and waved and very slowly, as if as uncertain as Tom was, the boy who looked so very much like Jack lifted his hand in response, before abruptly breaking into a run, leaving his companions behind. On he came, regardless of the obstacles in his way, clambering over the rocky landscape, and without thinking, Tom also began to slide down the steep face of the hill, wet sand and clumps of coarse scrub catching at his feet. He cared little that he might fall. Nothing was going to keep him apart from his friend any longer.

  Through the pouring rain the two boys raced to meet each other, both stumbling and slipping in their eagerness, but the uncertain terrain could not hold them back. As they reached a middle ground, halfway up the hillside, and came onto a plateau of rock that jutted from the sand, so they both decreased their pace, slowing to
a walk until at last they came face-to-face.

  They stood just a few feet apart, each panting for breath, each gazing at the other with a mixture of joy and disbelief. Neither said a word. The wind moaned and the rain lashed down, cold against their faces.

  Hesitantly, Jack smiled. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he said simply, running a hand through his soaking hair.

  Tom smiled too and nodded, but his expression was solemn, showing his weariness and the strain that he was under. "It's really you?" he said with difficulty.

  Jack stepped forward and laid a hand upon Tom’s arm. "It's really me," he confirmed quietly, the words immediately lost in the tumult of the storm.

  The warmth that Tom felt toward the other boy overwhelmed him then and he put his arm around Jack's shoulders, gripping him tightly, the contact reassuring. "Can I make a suggestion?" he asked, giving Jack a sidelong glance.

  "What?" asked Jack and Tom had to smile again.

  "Let's stick together from now on," he said and saw Jack pause only for a moment before nodding.

  "It's a deal," came the reply and then they began to make their way back down to the beach, but more slowly this time, their safety valuable to them now.

  They had both changed in many respects since their parting, and yet despite everything that had happened to them along the way, despite all the doubts and fears, the affection they held for each other seemed to be the stronger because of it. For in their hearts they both knew that theirs was a friendship that could never be broken.

  A fair-haired man, the one who Tom had thought so like Dredger, came forward and smiled as they descended from the rock. "Tom!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand, and Tom stopped dead in his tracks, surprised by the man's greeting.

  "Do I know you?" he asked cautiously staring hard at the stranger, a curious feeling of recognition tugging at his mind, even though he knew full well he had never seen the man before in his life.

  Beside Tom, Jack began to laugh quietly, apparently finding it all quite amusing, his gaze moving back and forth between the fair-haired man and Tom, the expression on his friend's face only making him laugh all the more.

  "What is it, Jack!?" questioned Tom, a bit irritated. "What's so funny?"

  With a deep chuckle that sounded very familiar, the man came over to him. "Now, Tom, do not begrudge Jack his moment of good humour. And besides, if anyone should be offended, it is I, for I had hoped you would recognise a friend no matter how much he might have changed!"

  Tom was certain now that this was all a dream after all. He knew that voice well enough, but it was impossible. How could a badger become a man? "I don't..." he started to say, but couldn't find any words to explain how he felt.

  "You know me now," said the man, seeing the light of recognition in the boy's eyes. "That is enough. Explanations must wait for a more suitable time, I’m afraid. The sea is turning against us and we must return to the ship, before we are all stranded on this island." He walked away, heading back toward the small group of men who waited further down the beach and mechanically, Tom followed him, a now serious Jack close at his side.

  "Don't expect a particularly good explanation," his friend commented as they went.

  The way Jack appeared to have accepted the badger's miraculous transformation made Tom feel a little more comfortable with it himself, although he was sure it would take him quite some time to get used to.

  Coming to the longboat, they began to embark, the crewmen climbing aboard first, taking their places at the oars, but as Tom moved to pull himself over the side, he noticed that Mo was gazing at him thoughtfully. "To find your heart’s desire," the fair-haired man muttered. As soon as he heard these words, Tom froze. "Is something wrong?" Mo asked, the waves lapping at their feet, swelling with the tide and lifting the boat from the sand, threatening to tear it away from them. The other men called to them anxiously, urging them to hurry, but Mo held up a hand. "What is it, Tom?" he pressed, leaning close, aware of the anguish that had overtaken his young friend and though the sea seemed to

  roar louder than ever, Tom's whispered reply was perfectly clear.

  "Lisa," he said and turned to face the windswept hills.

  The ship was under attack, and the army that waged war upon The Spiritwalker belonged to nature herself. High waves beat angrily against the hull. Wind and rain assaulted the crewmen as they worked diligently to furl the sails, and though he raged against this powerful adversary, shouting orders and encouragement at the top of his voice, Captain Welles was growing more concerned with every minute that passed.

  The sea had become unnatural!

  This was not the first time the Captain had been witness to strange, unaccountable phenomena at sea. He could tell a few tales of inexplicable events taking place while riding the oceans, and had learned that out here, the water ruled and had many secrets. And yet, there seemed to be a malice in the weather this day, a destructive urge that was doing its level best to send them to their doom. For his crew were working well but still they floundered, and for all their efforts, they were gradually, almost slyly, being drawn toward the rocks that jutted ominously from the headland.

  They called it The Seventh Step, but Welles was beginning to think of it as the first step toward hell! He braced himself against a wave that came crashing onto the deck, but the force of it pushed him backward and he had to grab blindly for something to prevent him being carried over the side.

  Lurching around, bellowing his frustration, he saw that Dredger stood nearby, gripping the rail, a smile playing upon his lips.

  Welles decided that he had been a fool to have ever agreed to give them passage in the first place, and to have let them take to the longboat in these conditions was an act of pure madness. What could there be that was so important on that damned island!?

  Whatever it was, it hardly mattered any more. If they did not return very soon, he would have no choice but to make away from this hazardous place. Already they had sustained some damage and he would not just stand by and see his vessel and crew destroyed.

  With these thoughts burning in his mind, the Captain advanced on Dredger, making no effort to conceal his indignation. "Time is running out for your friends," he barked, coming alongside, hanging onto the rail as the ship shuddered beneath him. "We will all be lost if we remain here much longer!"

  The warrior regarded the man with disinterest for a moment, before looking out across the frenzied sea, his eyes searching for some sign of the small craft that bore his companions. "If they come, they come," he uttered. "If they fail, that is as it must be. Do not trouble yourself, Captain. Your ship will not sink."

  The seaman grunted at this. "Thank you for your assessment, sir. But I think I am the best judge of that!"

  "Quite so," replied Dredger, "so set yourself to that task and leave all other matters to those who are concerned in them!"

  Captain Welles felt his temper boiling over. Everything about this jumped-up fighting man rubbed him the wrong way and he thought that before the voyage was over, he would like to have the pleasure of teaching him a few hard lessons. Throwing an arm in the air dismissively, Welles turned himself about and pushed off across the reeling deck, leaving Dredger to eye the waves that reared above their heads, the jagged peaks like the claws of some immense beast poised to strike at its prey.

  "For your own sake," the warrior breathed as the man departed, "I hope you never have reason to cross me." He stared at the water, lost for a moment in the dark places of his mind, but he knew he could not dwell there for long, however seductive it might be and it was with grim resolve that he bent his gaze once again toward the shore.

 

  "No!" refused Tom in dismay, "I won't leave her behind!"

  "Tom," began Mo moving closer to the boy, "have you not wondered how you came to be here in the first place? Have you not understood that the land is ever shifting? Nothing here is constant. The Wolf would like nothing better than for you to go back in search of her." Tom fel
t as if he were being torn apart, his love for Lisa battling against his trust and loyalty toward his friends. "I guarantee, Tom, that if you go looking for her, you will never find her. And it will cost us all very dearly."

  He didn't understand any of it, but he knew Mo well enough, whatever his physical guise, to be certain that he spoke the truth.

  With despair threatening to smother him, he recalled the way she had begged him not to leave her, sure that he would not come back.

  What was Lisa? Was she real or only make-believe?

  "Tom," Jack said, placing a hand on his arm. "We have to go. Everything will work out right in the end, I know it will. You'll see her again. If she really thinks a lot of you, she'll understand."

  Tom nodded reluctantly, the unexpected wisdom of Jack's words touching him deeply. "Let's get out of here," he murmured and with their dispute brought to an abrupt end, they quickly boarded the longboat and set to the task of pushing themselves away from the shore. The seamen fought the incoming tide with every ounce of strength they had, the sea opposing them at every stroke of the oars, a primitive contest that pitted the vast power of wind and water against the resilience of human flesh and spirit.

  It was all the Wolf's doing, of course. Mo had no doubt of that. It was the overseer of this charade, a pantomime to feed its appetite for pain and anguish.

  Noticing that one of the sailors was tiring, Mo did not hesitate in taking up the oar, adding his own strength to that of the others, each man aboard striving against the force of nature unleashed.

  "There's the ship!" cried Jack suddenly, almost leaping to his feet in relief and excitement, rain in his eyes, the taste of salt water in his mouth. "Do you see it, Tom?"

  But Tom did not respond. He was still gazing back at the island as little by little, they left it behind, his eyes focused upon the hilltop where he had so recently stood, his heart somewhere beyond.

  I will find you again. I promise.

  But he knew it was an empty pledge, for he was a victim of fate and he did not know where it might take him to. His path had been chosen for him and whatever was to come was as unavoidable as death itself.

 

  Dredger looked on with a grim smile as they were hoisted onto the deck. "The lost one returns," he said, but it was difficult to say whether it was with any pleasure.

  "It's good to see you again, Dredger," offered Tom in a similar tone of voice and the man's eyes narrowed, though his smile grew broader.

  Standing there aboard the ship reunited once more with his friends, Tom felt strangely detached, his mind elsewhere, his thoughts as ungovernable as the storm. Even though a part of him was elated at having found them again, another deeper part of his being was desperately unhappy. He kept imagining Lisa there on that grassy bank, still waiting for him to return, her tears her only comfort.

  He had abandoned her, there was no denying it.

  "I felt that way about you," said Jack a little sheepishly, having noticed the expression on Tom's face and guessing the cause. "Going on without you was like a betrayal of our friendship. But I see now that it had to be that way. I'm learning that maybe this is like a game, the way Mo says it is, but it isn't always up to us how we play it. Anyway," he added, seeing that his friend was bewildered by all that had happened and was none too steady on his feet, "I reckon you could do with some rest."

  They were moving away from The Seventh Step now, out into the open sea and the vessel lurched less violently than before, though the weather remained hostile.

  "I don't feel very well, Jack," admitted Tom, groping with a hand for something to hold onto, covering his blurred eyes with the other.

  "Come on," his friend ordered, putting an arm around him for support, "let's get below out of this rain."

  It didn’t take them long to reach Jack's cabin and once inside, Tom slumped down onto the bunk gratefully.

  "How can it be right to have left her there?" he muttered aloud, not meaning to speak.

  "I think Mo was right," Jack answered, sitting at the foot of the bed. "She wouldn't have even been there anymore if you had gone back."

  "But how can that be?" Tom wanted to know, "I just don't see how that makes any sense."

  "In these lands nothing ever seems to be the way you think it is," Jack said slowly, trying to put his thoughts into words. "But one thing I do believe is that truth can’t be hidden away forever. It's not what we do, it's why we do it, that's what counts. Sometimes we make mistakes, but that's only to be expected. After all, isn't that the whole reason we're alive in the first place, to learn!? We can only ever do what we think is for the best and that might not mean what's best for us. Sometimes we have to make a sacrifice. That's why you had to come with us. If you had only thought of yourself, you would have stayed."

  "But what about Lisa?" Tom asked in a quiet voice.

  Jack thought for a few seconds and then gave his friend a questioning look. "Maybe she understands more than you think."

  As Tom listened to his friend he became aware of how much the other boy had changed since they were parted. It seemed that their experiences were reshaping their beliefs and ideals, and bringing them a new understanding of things that they could have barely imagined before they came to this arcane, dream-like place.

  "Were we chosen for this?" Tom wondered not for the first time, as he drifted down into much needed sleep, lulled by the rocking of the ship and his last thought, before it

  carried him away, was that each of them in their own way had grown up and the process, once begun, could not be checked. It would lead them on, whether they wanted to take the journey or not, until they reached its immeasurable end.