by Ian Newton
Chapter 8
Days Turn to Weeks
By all accounts, Mr. Miller was unique and the more time the boys spent with him, the more Andrew recognized it. It struck him as odd the way Mr. Miller never complained. Not about the loss of Duke when the giant panther had attacked, or the destruction of the wagon, or even after trekking through the Wastelands with fifty pounds on his back.
He had never complained about fixing up Connor’s toe or about having to buy all the supplies for the journey. He never even complained about his arms. Of course, the only person Andrew really had for comparison was Connor, and he complained about everything, all the time.
If Connor wasn’t complaining about the heat, it was hunger. If it wasn’t hunger, he was thirsty, or his toe hurt, or his legs ached, or the sun was too bright. Andrew and Mr. Miller just ignored him.
Every day had become indistinguishable from the next. They would walk all night until their bodies couldn’t take any more. Then they would each spend three glorious and amazing hours in the book. When everyone was finished, it was off to sleep. A few hours before sunset, they would break camp and start all over again.
They had been in the Wastelands for two weeks when they lost their first packhorse. It happened during the blazing heat of the day as the boys slept. The only thing Mr. Miller said when they awoke that afternoon was that everyone’s pack just got heavier.
They broke camp that evening, leaving behind a small pile of items they could no longer carry and the body of the horse. No vultures had come yet. They were too far out in the Wastelands to gather the attention of the scavengers.
As they walked through the barren terrain, mindlessly putting one foot in front of the other, backs aching, shoulders burning, Andrew’s mind drifted back into the book.
The desert landscape of the Wastelands faded away. The stars above and even the light of the full moon disappeared, and he was standing in the middle of page ten, the central market of the Kingdom.
The sound of the worn wooden ball with its faded blue paint rolling across the sidewalk pulled him into the moment. With a hollow sound, it hit the edge of the curb, hopped a few inches into the air, fell onto the street and rolled under a beautifully decorated wooden cart loaded with fresh vegetables.
Chasing after his well-worn toy, the little boy nimbly crawled under the cart. The ball came to rest just out of reach and the boy, straining to reach it, pushed against one of the front wheels of the cart.
Reacting to the miniature force and the slope of the street, the cart started rolling backward. The little boy, intent on retrieving his much-loved toy, never even noticed the wheel moving toward him.
The colorfully painted wheel inched its way down the lane, pinning his arm against the road.
Undeterred, the cart continued rolling backward, and the little boy screamed in pain. Andrew shuddered at the sound of the bones breaking.
In a few feet, the cart finally came to rest against the curb, leaving the little boy alone in the street, screaming in pain and cradling his badly broken arm. Andrew was mesmerized.
He moved his attention to the people in the marketplace as they quickly took notice and rushed to help. But, before anyone could reach him, a pinpoint of blue-white Light appeared over his shoulder. The Light rapidly expanded and with a little “pop”, she appeared. Standing next to the boy was the Lady of the Light.
She was dressed in traditional robes, just like all the other people in the market, but hers seem to glow. Her mannerisms, her expression, her whole being, radiated love and caring. She glanced down at the boy and quickly asked all the people in the marketplace to form a circle around them.
The people in the marketplace quickly moved closer and those who saw the badly misshapen arm had to look away.
The Lady raised an open hand above her head, and said in a calm and compassionate voice, “My friends, James is badly injured. The cart behind us rolled over his arm and as you can all see it is badly broken.
We’re going to need to work together to help him. Is everyone ready?” she asked, in a magically amplified voice.
Andrew was no longer in the Wastelands carrying an unmanageable burden that cut into his shoulders with every step. No, that moment was gone because the only thing he loved more than watching the Lady of the Light was listening to her. Her voice resonated with his soul.
Everyone in the marketplace and even those beyond its walls responded. Andrew watched as the citizens gave their individual and united consensus.
He smiled as the Lady knelt beside James, and whispered in his ear, “Don’t be afraid. We’re all going to make you better. You’ll see. I have to pick you up, then there’s going to be a very bright Light. After that, we can go see your mother. All right?”
Between sobs, James nodded.
Standing up, she cradled him in one arm and raised her open hand. With an inflection that almost brought Andrew to tears, she asked everyone within the marketplace, “Will the citizens of our Kingdom please show me their Light?”
Every person in the marketplace held an open hand above their head, and said, “My Light shines for all to see.”
Small orbs of blue-white Light formed in their open hands. It moved and pulsed as if it were alive.
“My friends, will you please lend me your Light so I may heal James?”
In unanimous response, the people replied, “My Light is your Light.”
The orbs of Light flew to her and in the blink of an eye, she and James were consumed by it.
Andrew put himself inside the sphere of Light where he watched as the Lady took James’ arm in her hand and worked her magic. Finally, she added her own Light, creating a radiance too bright to look at. Silently within herself, but revealed within her diary, she thanked the Light for its gifts and a single tear ran down her cheek.
With his newly mended arm, James reached up and touched her face.
“Thank you,” he said, in his child’s voice. “Can I go and play now?”
“We have to thank our friends first.”
She raised her hand back above her head and gathered all the Light to it. The image seen by the people of the Kingdom was that of James touching the Lady’s face with his mended arm, wiping away the tear.
Her voice echoed throughout the Kingdom, touching every person within its walls, “I return that which has been given. There is only one Light.”
Suddenly, Light shot from her fingertips forming rainbows over the crowd. The colors quickly came together forming drops of glistening Light that fell upon the people. They began to cheer and clap and hug each other. Many approached to inspect the once broken arm and to offer their appreciation.
After much congratulating, the crowd dissipated, and the Lady whispered into James’s ear, “Can you please try to be more careful next time, James?”
She knelt to set him down, and he stole a kiss from her cheek, saying, “I will, and thank you, my Lady.”
Andrew turned right on cue to watch James’ mother Betsi emerge from the small lane into the marketplace. She swept her dark auburn hair to one side and looked around in panic.
When Betsi saw James standing next to the Lady, the ball of dough fell out of her hand, and she stood frozen.
“Betsi, James is fine, but he did create quite a little stir,” she said, in her calm and loving voice.
“Mama!”
James ran to hug his mother around her thighs. Before his mother could speak, the Lady walked forward, reached her hand out and pressed her thumb against the woman’s forehead.
“It will be easier if I just show you,” she said, with a comforting smile.
There was a flash of Light between her thumb and Betsi’s forehead. After a few seconds she lowered her hand, Betsi held out her arms and the two embraced with James stuck between them.
Tears streamed down Bet
si’s face.
“Thank you, Celeste. I’m quite sure we would all be lost without you.”
A little voice came from below, “Mama, I can’t breathe.”
Betsi let go of Celeste and picked up her son. She inspected his arm and kissed his forehead.
“Sweet James,” she said, hugging him. “Run and play now outside the windows where I can see you.”
“Yes, Mama.”
She set him down, and he picked up the ball from next to the curb. With a little giggle, he threw the ball up the lane and ran off to play.
Betsi curtsied to Celeste, and a tear ran down Andrew’s cheek.
“Now, now. What’s all this?” Celeste asked.
Betsi stood up straight and put her hands on Celeste’s shoulders, declaring in a motherly voice, “Supper. You must come to supper. It’s simply been far too long. We’ll expect you tomorrow night at the usual time.” Then her expression softened, “Unless you’re too busy to spend an evening with old friends?”
They both smiled warmly, and Andrew tripped over a low pile of sand, coming down hard on his hands and knees. His pack rode up his back and hit him in the back of the head. The loose items strapped to the old canvas pack rattled and clanged.
“Andrew, come on!” Connor yelled, from up ahead. “You’re falling behind and besides, it’s your turn to lead the horses.”
Andrew got up slowly as Betsi, Celeste, and little James faded away into chafed shoulders and an aching back. He struggled to his feet and finally made his way up to Connor.
“What’s going on?” Connor asked him as they came side by side.
“Oh you know, just the usual…walking through the Wastelands with a thousand pounds on my back in the middle of the night. How about you?”
Connor pushed him sideways, and Andrew almost lost his footing. “You know what I mean. What page were you stuck in this time?”
“I was in page ten. You know when Celeste saves the little boy after he breaks his arm.”
“What?! That page is weird. I hate when his arm breaks. I don’t know why that page is in the book! It’s not like it matters to anybody. Why in the world were you thinking about that?!”
“Are you joking? Don’t you get it?”
“Whatever. I’m stuck in page fifteen with the sword and the shield.”
“That’s the page I’m starting tonight,” Andrew said excitedly. “Is it amazing?”
Connor took a deep breath, and sighed, “Yeah, it’s amazing all right. It’s even more amazing that we have one of them!”
Andrew took the reins from Connor and began leading the small caravan.
“The dark brown one doesn’t look good,” Connor said. “He keeps falling behind and tugging on the others.”
Andrew nodded. “I don’t want to lose another one, but remember what Mr. Miller said.”
“Yeah, I know,” Connor agreed. “The worst part is I’m not sure how any of us could carry anymore.”
“That’s the worst part? Did you forget about the horse dying?!”
“You know what I mean. It’s not like I want the horses to die, but Mr. Miller won’t even let us give them names.”
In an attempt to relieve the burning pain in their shoulders and backs, they adjusted their packs. When the banging and clanging quieted down, all they could hear was the soft sound of feet and hooves working their way through the loose sand.
Mr. Miller slowed his pace until he was next to Connor. The three formed a line with Andrew leading the horses on one end, Connor in the middle and Mr. Miller on the right.
“Andrew?” Mr. Miller whispered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Shhhh; keep your voice down.”
Mr. Miller looked around suspiciously.
“Did you see anything last night?”
Connor and Andrew glanced uncomfortably at each other. Andrew whispered back, “No, I didn’t. Did you?”
“I thought I did, but I didn’t say anything.”
Andrew and Connor turned to Mr. Miller, and Connor said rather loudly, “What do you mean you think you saw something? What do you think you saw? Why didn’t you tell us?!”
“Keep your voice down, boy!” Mr. Miller hissed between his teeth.
“Who in the world is going to hear us out here?! Have you been drinking your wat...?”
Mr. Miller’s arm shot out in front of Connor’s chest, stopping them in their tracks. A second later, his other arm went up in front of Connor’s face, and he pointed.
Andrew kept right on walking until he felt oddly alone. Looking to his right, through the corner of his eye, he could see Mr. Miller pointing at something.
Turning his head back around, Andrew’s stomach sank, and a little scream jumped out of his mouth.
