Chapter 21
I awoke at the entrance of a brightly decorated alley on a long, lazy slope. Rising up, I drifted slowly over tight cobbled streets speaking of older, wiser days. Between those welcoming doorways, ancient gabled roofs and mottled arches, hope ran free.
I reached the mighty gothic cathedral once more. Father was there at the door. Though much older now, his eyes were still filled with child like wonder as he gazed down the luscious valley, waiting patiently.
Drawn westwards I swept through immaculate gardens, brimming with rainbows of colour and misty forms of folk I’d known when young. Merry groups smiled dreamily as I passed, circling a fabulously adorned water fountain that gurgled and splashed. My spirit floated higher and higher over that indescribably beautiful place - at the peak of the green hill.
“Wake up! Sam, wake up!”
“It happened again, the dream!” I exclaimed. “It was so outlandishly weird, yet so incredibly peaceful. I know what it is now, it’s when I...”
“Sam, I feel so strange.”
“What do you mean strange?”
“Just odd.”
“Well, it is only rightly so Ian, you are a trifle odd after all.”
“Sam, this is serious,” he said, in the most sombre tone I’ve ever witnessed.
“Are you ill?” I inquired, a touch more concerned.
“I really can’t say, I’ve never been ill,” he confessed. “My stomach feels like there are hundreds of tiny insects crawling around in there. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, their constant whirling gets faster and faster.”
“Ah, a hangover.”
“That’s simply not possible.”
“Guilt then?” I proffered, for lack of another suitable explanation.
“No. Besides, I really haven’t done anything that I’m inherently ashamed of.”
“Ah, this better not be one of your tasteless monster jokes,” I warned, thinking I’d seen through his childish designs. “They may impress some of your little chums, but they don’t serve me in the same fashion.”
“It truly isn’t Sam, I swear. I feel terrible, terrible. Please help, I beg you!”
“Ian, I can’t exactly take you to the doctor!” I cried desperately.
He moaned pitifully. I rose to my feet at a total loss, feeling terrible pangs of fear.
“Sam, when I slept they tried to take it!”
“Surely not?!” I cried, understanding instantly.
“There’s two outside, and he’s coming now, I can feel him searching.”
“Who’s searching?”
“A relative.”
“Surely that can only be a good thing?” I said, a little relieved.
“No situation can be truly divined as only good or bad. I’ll lose track of her now.”
I moved over to the window, curious as to the depth of the gathering storm looming across the entire countryside. Just outside the gate stood two strangers I recognised. One was a teenager I’d seen playing football that day outside work, the other the fat, nosey farmer hanging round the town square last night. Both stood swaying blankly, oblivious to the pouring rain and thunder.
“Let’s get out there, my family will be back soon!” I cried rather stupidly, without any plan.
“Wait for me,” Ian shouted weakly.
In seconds I’d rushed outside and been slammed against the stone wall across the lane. I started up the hill to draw them off. Then I saw him, bathed in slender shadows thrown by the grand oak sat at the top. An unnaturally tall, thin man whose face lit in weird lines of streaked lightning.
“We have a rotten traitor in our midst. A horrible little sneak!” Ian ranted weakly.
“Maybe we can reason with him, you deserve more time,” I said, surprised at my new found confidence. Even from that distance I saw the tall, wise fellow shake his head sadly.
The growing tempest brought endless darkness. Cloud after cloud exploded with billions of volts of raw, electric power and weird rushes of choking air rippled violently through the trees. In a frightening whoosh our entire forest moaned in terror at a great, relentless beast roaring wildly just behind the oak. The tall man held his arms casually out to the sides, holding it back in a massive, growing arc.
“Remember everything Sam, I shall return,” Ian said, fading away.
“Wait!” I cried, instantly caught in a sphere of pulsing green light. I turned, finding my two possessed pursuers held just as fast. Rapid series of lightning balls illuminated the countryside for miles, whizzing over our heads and pouring into the trees. Many blasted harmlessly off my shimmering green field. This fearsome show gained in intensity, till deafening explosions and demonic roaring sounded like the most violent of wars. The last thing I remember was the weird, tall man nodding at my fears, then I fell into a welcome swoon.
I awoke with a breathless, jerking start. It was early morning and I lay downstairs in the centre of the front room. Our clock read three thirty am. Great pains had been taken to make certain of my continued comfort. Pillows had been placed carefully beneath my head as I slept. I vividly recalled events up to Ian’s arrival as one hopelessly jumbled, incomprehensible mess. As I rose slowly to my knees, my eyes fell on the tiny form lying unnaturally still to my right. Then I remembered everything - Sir Ian was gone.
Of course I knew he wasn’t truly dead, this was simply a minuscule part of him he no longer needed, shown in a shape our limited human brain could comprehend. By his own admission he’d never really been alive here. But still, gazing on his miniature, vulnerable form I could barely control the terrible sadness that touched my spirit.
Although he was but one inch in length, his features were incredibly detailed, looking remarkably similar to a classic elf or pixie one sees so expertly illustrated in story books. He possessed hair of the finest blond hue, and Sir Ian’s eyes were purest emerald green. But it was the look left on Ian’s person that remains so firmly imprinted on my mind. For his expression told of nothing less than the heights of total and utter ecstasy.
When my tremors subsided I reverentially wrapped his minute form up in a small swatch of finest velvet, placing him carefully in the middle of crossed palms and made haste to the only place I could think of. When undergrowth got thicker, I held him closer to my chest, for I was struck with awful, nagging fears that he may fall, his tiny body lost forever amongst the dense scrub.
I have no idea how I found it again, though after much wandering I did indeed carry him back to that beautiful forest glade which had brought him so much excitement. The oval mounds were still present, just as before, though a fourth one had been carefully excavated recently. Here I gently laid his form down to rest, and stayed a while talking softly, seeking answers, kneeling, wondering, praying and deliberating.
Presently the atmosphere grew lighter and a hushed buzzing filled the air from everywhere at once, focusing on the only open sphere. At length soft, dry earth was taken up from nearby grain by grain, filling it in completely. Four striking blue flowers pushed up from the soil, attaining their true, mature form. Then Sir Ian’s bed became much as one of the others and surrounding grasses quickly covered its oval sides. Very soon only signs the area had ever been disturbed was the presence of those four stunning blue flowers, emitting their glorious perfumes.
For but a moment the entire forest was abuzz with excited chattering, the sky lit up brilliantly, invisible creatures moved along the ground and colourful whooshes flitted through the trees. The curious humming rose further, matching the forests high pitched intensity, suddenly abated, then all became calm and still.
Sir Ian Peters Page 21
