Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  "My world is far from perfect," he answered after a moment. "There are wars, there is evil and I have read about crimes I find it hard to believe a human being could be capable of, but to be perfectly honest, I have never come into contact with it at first hand. My life is quiet and orderly, and I like it that way. I have never been a seeker after adventure, a traveller, explorer or a trouble-maker, and the most unusual thing that has ever happened to me is receiving the crystals. Being here has thrown my entire belief-system into turmoil. I don't know if I'm, insane, the victim of some huge set-up or simply dreaming. The one explanation which seems to me impossible is that it is real!

  But here I am still, and I can't wake up from this dream or escape from this situation; believe me, I have tried. I am not here willingly and am certainly not a fit person to save a world."

  "It must be good to live in such security," mused Jazlyn.

  "Yes, it is," he answered though it occurred to him that he hadn't ever appreciated it till now. It also occurred to him as he calmed down that he had never been as attracted to a girl before as he now was to this one.

  "Tell me, Jazlyn, can I get back home?"

  "Yes," she sighed "You should ask Menoneth if that's really what you want, but I hope you will stay."

  "Why?" he asked simply.

  "Because without you, any hope of order and security will evaporate. We will be over-run, killed or made to suffer beyond your comprehension. We are afraid; I am afraid," she whispered.

  "Jazlyn, listen to me," he leaned closer to her and rested his elbows on his knees to look into her face. "You think I'm something I'm not. You believe in me which is both wonderful and terrifying; wonderful because I would love to be something more to you than a stranger, and terrifying because I know your trust in me would be misplaced."

  Their faces were close and he could feel her breath which, like his own, was coming quickly.

  "You are the Wandmaster," she said, determinedly, "You will succeed."

  "There it is again!" said John in exasperation throwing himself back and slapping the arms of the chair. "That irrational belief that I'm somehow someone special. I am not. I'm pretty sure that the wand would respond like that to anyone from my world, and there are a lot more worthy than I am. I am sure some would really love the opportunity to play the hero for real, but its not for me!" For the umpteenth time, John silently cursed William Stone.

  Jazlyn took a deep breath and sighed it out, sitting back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling.

  "Will you stay for me John?" she asked quietly.

  'Women!' thought John after she had left him. You never knew where you were with them. One minute they were avoiding you and the next they were kissing you or asking you to risk your neck for them. And the thing was that he was not sure he wouldn't do it. He knew, of course, that they were from different worlds, and that something permanent between them would be impossible, but could he just up and leave when she was asking him to stay and help her? One half of him said 'Yes' categorically. This was not his problem and neither was she. The other half of him saw her dark eyes imploring him to stay for her! Now they had added emotional blackmail to their list of underhand ways of making him fight their battles. He was nobody's fool!.........or was he? Though he hadn't said he would stay, he had promised to think about it again and that's what he was now doing.

  He continued to sit in the chair. No way out. He was faced with something completely beyond his experience and abilities. As he deliberated, he felt rather than saw the wand. It was still in its pouch across his chest and he experienced the familiar connection. The wand was ever-present in his mind in a special place he could not exactly name or locate, but now it was reaching for him. In his present state of mind, he was reluctant to join with it, but it's persistent nudging would not be ignored. Slowly he drew it out and noted its clarity. It was now crystal again, non-metallic, almost liquid in its transparency, and it was humming, gently resonating a soft song and emitting a glowing yellow light. He relaxed into its peace and closed his eyes to feel himself floating in a weightless, untroubled place.

  "John," said a voice in the silence. "John, hear me."

  "Hmmmm?" replied John's mind, and in the glow of the wand a tall slim figure of a man appeared. There was something familiar about the thin face and the eyes, but John couldn't remember where he had seen them before though he knew he should. The man was dressed in a long loose robe, tied around the waist with a thin belt from which hung a long thin leather pouch obviously containing a crystal wand like his own. As he watched, the man produced the wand and stretched forward till the tip of it made contact with the one in John's hand. John was completely at peace, and the floating feeling continued. He drifted off, now side by side with the other man, and they travelled. He was going somewhere and he felt very comfortable about that. He was with a friend, someone he could trust. He didn't question, he just drifted through shadowy landscapes, glades, past unpopulated hillsides until he reached a wall of glass. Together he and his companion slipped easily through it and found themselves in a room. A man was sitting in a chair by a window, asleep. John recognised himself in his trainers, track-suit trousers and t-shirt, but was unable to feel himself inside that body. He was somewhere outside, an observer.

  "Why are we here?" he asked his companion.

  "To be. To understand."

  "Oh. Is that me?"

  No answer came. John considered his body in the chair.

  "Do you want to get back in?" asked the man at his side

  "Yes."

  The man said "I will be here beside you John, just call me. You know how."

  John opened his eyes. The bright colours all around him startled him, and his body told him it wanted to stretch and move. In his hand was the dark crystal, not the wand which lie in its position in the chest at his side. Children's voices came from the park and the traffic noises drifted in through the window. He was back! Back in his own body and in his own home. It had been a dream after all. He stood up, placed the dark crystal in its indentation. Beside the chest was the old fading photograph of his father and brothers. William stared out at him. It all came back to him.

  "It was you!" he burst out, looking into the eyes. "You brought me back!" The stare was fixed in the face in the photograph.

  "But you're in the Crystal Wall in the Temple!" The photograph didn't respond and why should it? It was just an old photograph of someone he had never met. His outburst seemed to him silly and nonsensical; this person couldn't be in the crystal wall of the Temple. There was no Temple, no Crystal Realm, it was all an illusion after all; the product of an over-active imagination.

  John stood in his living room, deliberately not looking at the face of William Stone, and tried as hard as he could to put him, the crystals, Jazlyn, Oh Jazlyn! Menoneth and everything to do with the Realm out of his mind. He felt tremendous relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and found himself taking deep breaths and smiling to himself as he looked around his house and his things; the everyday constituents of his real life.

  The problem was that he had nothing else to think about. He wandered into the kitchen, put the kettle on and sat at the table shuffling through the mail that had arrived that morning which was all bills and advertisements. He made a cup of tea and returned to the living room, switching on the tv in an effort to occupy his mind. 'Blah blah, blah', news, a soap opera, a chat show where someone aired his discontent about a legal decision, a documentary about frogs. Mundane; he switched it off again. He thought about work, but there was nothing really of interest to hold his concentration in that direction. He felt aimless, alone and abandoned. All the purpose seemed to have disappeared from his life. The tortuous decision he had battled with such a short time ago wasn't there any more. The worries and fears were gone. But other things had gone, less easy to give up; his new-found self respect, his confidence, his social status, the Guardians, his connection with the wand, Menoneth, Tyloren, Trevorin, Gilladen,
and again Jazlyn. Oh Jazlyn!

  He sipped his hot tea and appreciated that at least, but try as he might, he just couldn't find anything to be interested in or pleased about without allowing his thoughts to revert to the crystal world. Aimlessly he wandered around the empty house trying to wear it again like a comfortable old shoe, but it didn't fit any more. He had outgrown it. It was so unfair. He had to admit that his dream had been far more substantial than his reality, and the feeling of loss was growing in him; the momentary relief he had felt when he first returned had disappeared and had not been replaced by anything of value. He decided on taking a shower as he was sticky from his morning walk in the park, and as he entered the bathroom with its chrome fittings and tiles, he found himself missing his 'water chamber'. The hot water didn't refresh him and he turned the tap to cold, but it didn't have the invigorating effect of the spring water he had got used to. Everything was wrong. He dried himself on a soft fluffy towel, dressed in clean comfortable clothes and set about clipping his toenails. One of his little toes was a bit sore and he remembered Gilladen telling him the leather shoes always rubbed a bit in the beginning. 'Hold on! that was in the Crystal Realm, not here. His trainers must have caused it, he explained to himself and then noticed the newly healed cut on his finger.......... The wand had cut it and healed it leaving a silvery line that hadn't been there before the Realm. John groaned and fell back on his bed. He was going crazy, that was for sure and he stared at the guilty finger accusingly.

  The telephone rang and John jumped. He reached out and picked up the receiver at the side of his bed.

  "Hello?" he queried

  "That you John lad?" asked the voice of Uncle Jerome.

  "Yes, Uncle, hello. This is a surprise."

  "Yes, it is to me as well."

  "Sorry?" said John, not understanding.

  "Well, you know, after our chat the other day, the strangest thing has happened...and.... you know, I wasn't entirely straight with you............for your own good, you know, but well, now I don't know what to do."

  "Can you explain a little uncle, I'm a bit confused here. Is this about William Stone?"

  "Yes, well that's the thing, you see. He was your grandfather's nephew, you know, caused loads of trouble when he was around and used to go into these kind of comas when he wouldn't talk to anyone for days and come back with outlandish stories! The fact is that his mother was some girl from a strange background in your great grand uncle Nathaniel's past. He brought back a son, William, from his travels late in life. Then he disappeared and left our grandfather to raise the boy together with us three, but that's neither here nor there. Your grandfather had him seen by all sorts of doctors you know, and then one day he just picked up and disappeared off the face of the earth, so to speak."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Force of habit I suppose. We were all forbidden to mention it at the time."

  "Well, what changed your mind now?"

  "That's the weird thing, you see. I got a letter from him today, from Bolivia of all places, and there's a message in it for you!"

  "What!" exclaimed John.

  "Well, I would normally have ignored it, probably even thrown it away, but as you asked the other day, and as the letter says it's very important you get the message, well, I thought......., so here I am ringing you. What else could I do?"

  "What's the message, uncle?"

  "Well, it makes no sense to me whatever, and I don't know if it will to you, but anyway, it says 'Honour to the Wandmaster.' That's it. Nothing else."

  John's mouth dropped open but no sound came out.

  "Hello?... John?..... You still there lad?"

  "Yes, uncle, I'm still here."

  "It's the weirdest thing, isn't it?"

  "More than you can possibly imagine,"John replied.

  "Look, lad, there's obviously something going on here I don't understand, and my warning still stands from last time we talked. Don't meddle where you don't belong, I'd hate anything to happen to you."

  "Do you believe in fate uncle?" asked John.

  "Ooh, now there's a subject we could empty a bottle over. How about you coming to visit an old man and we can talk that through one day."

  "That's a date," said John.

  "Don't leave it too long! William Stone has piqued my curiosity too and my old bones can't take too much excitement these days!"

  "Soon as I can. Oh, and uncle..............thanks."

  "Well, I don't know if I've done the right thing lad, still, bye and watch your step."

  "I'll try, uncle. Bye now."

  John was reeling now as the words "Honour to the Wandmaster" went through his head. They had been uttered in his world; the real world, and that changed matters completely. How could William have sent word to him when he was still encased in the temple wall in Wandguard? And why would the message be sent to Uncle Jerome for John. It was a puzzle indeed. Also, what did Uncle Jerome mean by 'coma', and 'outlandish stories', isn't that what they would say about John too, if he told them what had happened to him? He thought hard; his uncle Jerome's warnings were still in his head and his first response was to lock the crystals away or dispose of them somehow and carry on with his life. Logically, this was the rational decision and the one he should take in the interests of self-preservation and sanity. The whole situation was so bizarre anyway, that cool consideration should have convinced him, whatever the evidence, that the Crystal Realm and all that went with it was a perilous fiction, maybe created out of his desire to live a more exciting life; a sub-conscious fabrication of escape. He should see an analyst, he thought, who would probably tell him he needed a vacation and some Valium. But the latest twist, and the call from Uncle Jerome? Didn't that prove something?

  He paced the room and considered it all from another perspective. He examined the elements of the problem again, accepting the possibility that there really was a Crystal Realm, and then asked, 'Do I want to go back there?' His present life was safe and secure and he remembered Jazlyn's wistfulness when she had pointed that out to him. He recalled the bug-eyed beast in Menoneth's thoughts and assumed that if he chose to play out the hand he had been dealt in that game of chance, he would come face to face with it and have to destroy it or be destroyed. Pictures of Wes's head dangling like a puppet's and the ashen features of the 'lo' attached to his shoulders flashed unpleasantly before his eyes, and he imagined his own face and body flailing around in the same monstrous union. He shuddered as he recalled the evil he had encountered in freeing Westroth; no-one would be able to free John Stone. He had never killed anything bigger than a fly in his world or been in a situation of having to defend himself or fight anyone, and in all probability would live out his life never having to if he just put the crystals and everything to do with them out of his mind and out of his life. He tried to rid his thoughts of the Realm, but his mind reached for Jazlyn and the memory of his last meeting with her flooded back. And then there were the kisses. Warmth surged through him and he realized that he missed her. He couldn't handle her feeling he had rejected and deserted her, maybe think of him as a coward! That thought was intolerable! Then there were the others, Menoneth, Tyloren, Trevorin, the Guardians. Could he just turn his back on them?

  He stopped pacing and stood, motionless and troubled. Whatever he was, John was an honourable man and the fact that nobody had ever called on him to prove it before did not alter that. If, as was now plain to John, there were two realities for him to choose from and that the Crystal Realm was not a dream or a figment of his imagination, then there were two John Stones. One of them was a clerk in a construction company and would live to a quiet old age and die like most of the human race, unknown, and without having done anything exceptional in his time on earth. The other was the John Stone of the Crystal Realm, The Wandmaster, who would be the instrument in a struggle against evil which was nothing short of heroic. He didn't know if he could do what was demanded of him, and was very afraid of the consequences if he couldn't, but did
n't he owe it to everyone, himself included, to try? There was no alternative really, he saw in a flash. His deliberating had been an attempt to take the easy way out and avoid doing the right thing. He could not live the rest of his life knowing that he had not had the guts to do so. Nobody was forcing him to do anything now; he could make up his own mind without coercion, and knew there was only one decision he could take. It was clear. Crystal clear.

  Unemotionally, John locked up the house. He had put a spare set of keys in a reinforced envelope and posted it to his uncle Jerome with a request that he should come and check up on things if he didn't hear from John in a week. Then he turned off all his electrical appliances as though he were going on holiday, brought the crystals up to his bedroom and put them at the side of the bed. He wrote another hurried note to his Uncle Jerome, which he placed in the lid of the box, hoping he would be able to make sense of it and deal with the crystals if he, John Stone, should fail to wake up from his 'coma'. After making his preparations, and with many misgivings, he made himself comfortable and closed his eyes. "I hope I'm not going to regret this," he said out loud, and picked up the dark crystal. This time he also held the wand in his hand, though he knew it would go with him anyway and thought, "Honour to you Wandmaster William Stone."

  The tall man appeared, smiling with what looked to John like pride, and said,"Honour to you Wandmaster John Stone," and he bowed slightly before touching the tip of his wand to the tip of John's. John looked back at the body in his bed once more and allowed himself to glide towards the crystal wall with his guide.