The Magic Lands Read online

  THE WHITE TREE

  A figure appeared. Its skin was pale and almost luminous, light emanating from within. Yet it was not a visage of humanity; its large clear eyes conveyed immense wisdom, unknown to humankind.

  The figure waited just ahead of them, having emerged from the darkness with no prelude, taking form from the shadow it seemed.

  "I will show you the way." No words had been uttered, the voice only in their minds, the sound reverberating in their thoughts.

  Stepping forward, Mo lowered his head before the being. "Thank you," he spoke mildly, warmth evident in his voice.

  "And where will you lead us?" Dredger enquired loudly, a confused look passing over his face.

  "To the place where you must go," the figure responded equably, still voiceless but nonetheless heard.

  Dredger turned toward his companion. "What does this mean?"

  "We have been sent a shepherd."

  At this, Dredger's eyes narrowed. "By the Wolf?"

  "No," the other man said firmly, "not this time. We must be very near to the culmination of this long odyssey."

  "So we are to follow this phantom?" Dredger grunted, clearly not convinced.

  “No, my friend, this is no phantom. Instead, know that this is one of my own kind. One of the seraph race.”

  Dredger paused, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. “Let it lead then and I will do what must be done.”

  "The time has finally come to put faith to the test," was Mo’s simple reply.

  As the moments passed, the golden landscape was transformed before Tom's eyes into a winter world of purest white.

  The stage was set. All was as it was meant to be. Soon he would meet the Beast and they would talk of many things. Of truth and lies. Of love and sin. And the difference between them.

  If, when it was all over, he still lived, all he wished for was to return to his Aunt and Uncle in their grand old house that he loved so much, and as he thought of how wonderful this would be, Ira's features materialised in his mind and it seemed to Tom that the man was suddenly there, with him, walking at his side as the snow continued to fall.

  "I see you have come a long way, Tom, a very long way," the old man said, his mood subdued. "And yet, what have you learnt upon your journey? What can you tell me, my boy?" Thinking hard, not wanting to disappoint his Uncle, Tom hesitated. "There have been many lessons," the man added with a solemn nod of his head.

  "I've seen a lot of things," Tom agreed, "amazing things…terrible things. But through all of it, there's only one thing that I've learnt for certain."

  The man looked at him, compassion in his wrinkled eyes. "And what is that?"

  The boy struggled to find the words to express what he wanted to say. "We can't achieve anything, anything of real value, without sacrifices."

  Ira nodded. "Only along that bitter road can we discover true love. A game, a test, a trial. All of this and more. But we understand so little, all of us. We only ever see a reflection of a reflection, distorted and imperfect. Something wondrous is calling to us but we hear it only as a whisper."

  Tom concentrated on his Uncle's face. "I feel so useless," he said with an effort.

  "With every step that we take we reveal another part of the whole," Ira advised him, "until finally the solution to all of the mysteries will emerge from the darkness of our closed minds, the door to enlightenment at last flung open, the towers of ignorance that Mankind has constructed through so many centuries, demolished in a single stroke."

  "But what is expected of me when I face the Beast?" the boy asked quietly.

  The old man smiled, an expression of both hope and sadness. "Nothing. Everything. Everyone must make their own choices."

  "This isn't real is it?" Tom said, feeling unsteady on his feet.

  His Uncle gave a shrug. "Who knows, Tom? Who knows?"

  All at once, the image of the man began to wane and dwindle, vanishing completely in a matter of moments, and Tom came to a standstill, a vast expanse of snow all about him, flakes attaching themselves to his hair and clothing and settling softly upon his face.

  After a time, he walked on, the snow already deep, a white covering for a blackened land.

  The figure guided them through the tunnel until they came to a junction, the track dividing into two.

  "Take the right path and ascend," rang the voice in their heads. "This is the road to your reckoning." Immediately, its substance began to waste away, fading slowly into nothingness, until only a faint glow remained. Without any conversation, the two men went ahead, following the line of track to their right and they had only walked perhaps two hundred yards when Mo touched his companion's arm and then pointed ahead into the darkness. "There."

  Something shimmered against a wall, a luminous grey.

  "A ladder?" queried Dredger.

  "We have found our way it would seem," Mo answered, moving quickly toward it. At first glance, the apparatus appeared to be constructed of a web-like substance, flimsy and delicate. But after testing its strength with a hand, he nodded decisively, clearly satisfied that it would hold their weight, then he turned to beckon the warrior, only to find that the man was right behind him.

  Taking the lead, Dredger began to climb.

  Something was ahead of him, a dark shadow rising out of the snow and Tom felt an

  odd sensation crawl through him at sight of it, foreboding and resignation numbing his mind.

  As he drew nearer, the black apparition took shape, its lines harsh, prominent against the white background of earth and sky.

  It was a gigantic crucifix that towered above him, an imposing construction of iron. And someone was pinned to its stark face, a broken figure who was quite still.

  Tom looked up at the boy whose body had been nailed to the hard metal of the cross and tears swelled in his eyes, his mouth working idly as he tried to call out, his lips dry, a bitterness spreading across his tongue and into his throat.

  "Oh Jack," he finally whispered, but found he could say no more, his thoughts rebelling, exploding with grief.

  At the foot of the crucifix he stood and peered upward, feeling that icy hands had grasped him and made him bear witness, cold fingers ripping at his heart.

  If only this could be just another dream, the last of so many he had been forced to endure. But this time there was no escape.

  Tom went down onto his knees and touched the base of iron, its unforgiving reality a testament to his loss. His mind was adrift, caught upon a cruel sea of oblivion.

  Above him, Jack hung as a sacrifice, the Beast’s offering to itself.

  The White Wolf was singing.

  In a high, soprano voice that carried far, the Beast sang a song of victory.

  "Oh, sweetest vengeance,

  your lips meet mine,

  witness the symbol,

  witness the sign,

  through trial and combat,

  through test and bane,

  the secrets of Zion,

  return again.

  Vice is the gamut,

  lust is my bride,

  here is the question,

  yours to decide,

  does sin diminish

  the worth of your pride?"

  Ending its song, the Wolf let out a prolonged howl of satisfaction and pleasure. There was a wild madness in the sound. Something splintered and out of control.

  All of the pieces of the puzzle were assembled now. Soon the finale would be underway.

  Through trail, and of course combat, each would look into the eye of the storm. In every world, the balance was shifting. Very soon, there would be a new beginning, the dawn of a dark age when the only light that was shed upon the land poured forth from armies of the Wolf, the fires of a crusade that would transform the face of humanity forever. Nothing could turn back the tide now. Not boy, nor man, nor changing beast.

  They came up through an opening that led into the light. The sky was twinkling, a rain of tiny stars falling to the ground.


  Snow lay thick across an even landscape, an agitated sea writhing not far distant, furious waves crashing upon the shore.

  "I...I feel something," Dredger stammered, touching his forehead as nausea overcame him, his face pale.

  Mo put out a hand to steady the man, but the moment was soon past.

  The warrior lifted his gaze to the lurid sky. "The boy is dead," he said bluntly.

  "Poor Jack," Mo murmured, knowing without having to be told, "my poor Jack."

  "The Wolf is waiting for us," Dredger growled after a few moments of silence.

  "And death," Mo added. "That too awaits us here, old friend."

  Tom knelt at the base of the cross, his hands buried deep in the snow. But although his flesh was numb, his heart beat with a raging fire that would not let him deny what he had seen.

  "Jack's dead," he told himself, as if to convince his own mind, which steadfastly refused to accept it as true.

  "Tom," said a voice from behind him.

  Gaining his feet, he looked back and saw two men, their eyes both drawn above him to where the crucifix paraded the limp form of its victim like a decoration.

  Faraway a sound began, building frantically until it reached a shattering crescendo and Tom felt his throat burning as his scream erupted into the biting air.

  His face drawn, Dredger stepped forward taking his sword from its sheath, and drove it into the snow covered ground, the blade penetrating far into the earth.

  Then moving very slowly, Mo went to Tom and as he walked his footprints became four instead of two. The badger nuzzled the boy with its large head, its wise old face stricken with remorse. "There is more than life and death, more answers than there are questions asked. The time is upon us when all will be explained." Tom could find no words that he wanted to say, his mind empty, sorrow entrenched deep within his soul. “Perhaps before too long," Mo said very softly, looking into his eyes, "we too shall join dear Jack in that place where virtue and peace are the only truths."

  Trying hopelessly to find something to hold onto, Tom bit down on his tears, his face streaked by their passing. "But," he sobbed, "what if you're wrong?"

  The animal rested his body close to Tom's, the badger's warmth a small comfort for the chill he felt both inside and out. "Our faith is sorely tested," Mo said with passion.

  "What good is faith now? What is faith anyway!?" Tom asked, more tears running down over his cheeks.

  Pausing, the badger considered his question carefully. "The ability to believe in a dream," he said at length. "The courage to wish and then to hope."

  "Do we have to kill the Wolf?" the boy responded after a long moment and Mo's face darkened, but before he could answer Dredger came beside them and put his hand firmly upon Tom's shoulder.

  "I had believed that it was my place to do battle with the Beast," he said with difficulty, "but I have come to realise that I was mistaken. Look there, your blade awaits you."

  Tom followed the man's gaze to where the sword's hilt protruded from the snow, the argent steel appearing to glimmer with cold fire. "Do I have to?" he said, his voice very shaky.

  "Would you not see your friend avenged!?" the warrior argued, his expression wild, forces at work within his mind that threatened to overturn his senses.

  Tom went to the sword and touched the hilt, caressing the steel with his fingers. "Death is the master of death," he whispered, the words signifying more to him than he could ever explain. And then, surprising himself, he walked on across the white land, leaving the blade to rest still buried in the ground.

  Behind him the warrior stared aghast and moved to call after him, but Mo came quickly beside him and placed a hand upon his arm, once more in the guise of humanity.

  "Let him go," the man said. "He has chosen his own way. Perhaps at last, now there is a chance that we can win."

  Tom wandered, paying little heed to his direction, content just to walk. After a time, he came upon a white tree and there he rested, snug beneath its great branches. The spreading boughs were laden with white blossom, snow and ice mingling to create a vision of perfect clarity, and he knew that this was the place where it would all come to an end.

  As he waited, his mind roamed through the many adventures that they had survived, the perils withstood. His memory held onto a picture of Jack, and he wondered what the other boy would have felt if it had been the other way round, if Jack had been left to finish the fight.

  A part of him was consumed with hatred, a desire for bloody vengeance pulling at his mind, just as Dredger had expected and encouraged. But a greater part, within a deeper place, felt only sadness and loss and a bleak acceptance. Revenge would not settle the score. He owed Jack more than that.

  From behind him, someone called softly. "Tom? Tom, are you there?"

  He didn't need to turn round to know that she had come, just as he knew that she would. "I'm here," he answered and waited for Lisa to show herself.

  When she did, daintily making her way out into the open, negotiating the high snow banks with agile skill, Tom was struck by just how beautiful she really was. Her pale cotton dress seemed inappropriate in the sudden winter that had fallen upon the land and he was automatically concerned that she might be cold.

  "I'm fine," she told him, reading his mind it seemed, and Tom nodded and smiled very slightly.

  "I knew you would come," he said, watching her eyes dance, reflecting light as if they were crystals of blue ice.

  "I had to," she conceded, smiling back at him.

  "Jack's dead," Tom announced, almost casually.

  "I know," she said, looking down as she spoke, her expression veiled.

  "And the big, bad Wolf will be here soon," he remarked, beginning to feel strange inside, his eyes watering.

  "Yes, He's almost here," Lisa agreed.

  "Almost," Tom echoed.

  "And then..." the girl said.

  "It all ends," he finished. For a moment they fell silent. Tom looked out across the vast emptiness, searching for the horizon, but the sky and the land were one.

  "We could go now," Lisa urged him, "there's still time."

  Shaking his head and gazing up at her, Tom managed a smile. "I don't think so. My time's up and I have an appointment to keep."

  "With death?" she asked in a matter-of-fact way.

  "No," Tom assured her, "with love."

  "And do you love me?"

  "Who are you?" Tom asked.

  With tears in her blue eyes, Lisa shook her head. "Don't you know by now?"

  Tom regarded her with an intensity that made her tremble. "I thought you might be the Wolf," he said mildly. “But you’re not. Tell me, what are you, really?"

  As her tears touched her full lips and trickled into her mouth, the girl's face began to flicker and dissolve. "I'm your heart's desire, Tom," he heard her say as she diminished, her body melting away. "No more, no less. Yours and yours alone. Please don't send me away. Come with me, to where you'll always be safe."

  Closing his eyes, Tom thought of Jack nailed to the iron cross, head slumped to one side, a lifeless shell that had once been his friend. Anything to shut out Lisa's face, tears falling uncontrollably as she faded, nothing remaining to show that she had ever been.

  Just another dream. Just one more lost dream.

  And somewhere, the White Wolf was laughing.

  THE