The Magic Lands

by Mark Hockley

As he opened the door of the room that housed the generator, he immediately knew that something was very wrong. Fear rose like bile in his throat, aware on some deep level that what awaited him within was deadly and quite merciless. He was all alone with his own mortality.

  The man moaned, a pathetic sound that seemed to join another that he had until now ignored, somehow oblivious to its wild humming.

  The world swayed and broke into a billion pieces before his eyes.

  Just within the outer wall of the grounds surrounding the house, the woman in white smiled with pleasure and satisfaction as she watched the building explode, fire and smoke licking madly at brick and wood. She had added a little of her own magic to help things along and now she clapped her hands, the sound lost amidst the noises of devastation and a darkness quickly filled the sky as if a rain were coming, black and thick with fury. And then, the delicate silk of her garments moved by a sudden gust, debris from the house began to cascade down around her, ripping into the earth, puncturing the pristine lawns with a thousand wounds and all the while she stood and watched, even though brick and metal, timber and glass fell all about her. Not one fragment so much as brushed the woman and she laughed and applauded like a young child.

  When finally it was over, the once great house in flames, she walked across a long garden where shortly before there had been row upon row of red roses, but now there was only carnage, petals scattered amongst the wreckage. And even though the sky had become dark, wherever she walked the land shone brightly, each remnant of the house beginning to glow as she passed by, so that every step that she took illuminated the way for the next, leaving a trail of light across a sea of destruction.

  "What was that?" said Jack, flinching at what sounded like a tremendous explosion somewhere behind them, a look of terror and apprehension passing over his face.

  "Don’t worry, Jack," soothed the badger. "It does not concern us now."

  Jack shook his head, his thoughts jumbled, memories entangled with dreams, truth impossible to distinguish from what he knew must be fantasies flitting wildly through his mind. He could no longer be sure of anything. "I don't know what's happening to me," he said, his voice and spirit weak. He felt lost, without hope, his faith in the things he had always believed in crumbling into meaningless fragments.

  Moving closer to the boy, Mo looked up at Jack's wan features. "Let us be content for the moment with just putting distance between ourselves and those who hunt us."

  Jack nodded in agreement, but his heart was heavy with a burden he could not identify and he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the problems at hand. The thunderous sound had touched something deep inside him, as if it were a part of himself that had cried out so terribly. Somewhere within him too, a voice was speaking, desperate to be heard, to be recalled, but Jack would not let it surface, his own determination to suppress this inner call frightening him.

  What happened to me in the house?

  But now they were moving again, off through the dense undergrowth, pursued by the servants of the enemy, hunted like beasts. Yet what difference was there really between any creature when it came to the fundamentals of life and death? He was only one more animal. A badger, a wolf, a man. All were beasts in their own way.

  If Mankind are so superior, why do they corrupt and destroy? Why do they kill for fun?

  It seemed to Jack, that if there was a difference between Man and other animals, it was in their motivation, why they did what they did. Surely it was not a Man's instinct to be cruel. Only a man would profess to be good and yet do evil things. Only a man can use reason to make a choice and still decide to sin.

  Sin. It was a word he hardly understood. And yet it held great power.

  He recalled his history lessons at school, so distant now. They had been told of the Third Reich, the Nazi regime in Germany and how they had systematically hunted down and exterminated millions of Jews and other 'undesirables', anyone whose blood might pollute the so-called master race. But was this a fair example of humankind? Murderers without

  remorse, using perverted logic to justify their actions, their madness fuelled by insane prejudice and a destructive lust for power?

  What of the ordinary man? Was he a great sinner? It was true that so often he only stood by and watched as these crimes were happening, never lifting a hand against the hate and slaughter, never trying to stop it. But on a basic level, was an average man more likely to be good or evil?

  There were reasons for every crime, there were always reasons, but Jack was just a boy and it didn't make much sense to him. Where was his place in all of this? The atrocities of the Nazis were only one small example of a trend set throughout the ages, since the beginning of mankind's bloody dominion on the earth.

  Sin. What was it really? Human nature, some might say. But if it was the nature of the Beast to sin, did that mean there was nothing to choose between them. Jack would not believe that. There was a difference. And it had to be motive. It all came down to why?

  It was probably the simplest question and yet insoluble for all its simplicity. Why?

  "They come," said Elrin Jinn, staring hard at Tom.

  The boy stumbled but somehow managed to keep his footing, looking behind them anxiously as they continued to run. His eyes had almost become accustomed to the dimly lit tunnel but there was no sign or sound of anything close by. He glanced back at the man who led him. "Who?" he called, an uneasiness stealing into his heart.

  "Listen closely."

  Somewhere distant, but rapidly drawing nearer, a scuttling sound could be heard, accompanied by an occasional high-pitched squealing.

  "What is it?" Tom panted, his nerves on edge, forcing himself to maintain his speed, trying to get alongside his long striding companion, but Jinn went on with increasing urgency.

  "The shrews, boy!" he shouted back, never faltering despite his great haste, "we walk their burrow...we trespass."

  "Walk!?" Tom spluttered, finding the man's use of the word somewhat ironic. He had never run so fast or so hard in his whole life. Even on sports day at school where he had taken part in the marathon, he had not experienced such a gruelling test of his stamina and fitness. He knew that he would have to rest soon, his breathing now painful, his legs weak, no matter what might be pursuing them.

  “What about the hunters!?” he almost choked, taking rasping breaths.

  “They remain above. Now we face a hunter of another kind.”

  Tom could barely put his thoughts in order, but then a sudden memory stirred. He recalled Uncle Ira leading he and Jack up the hill toward his house. It had been the day they had arrived home for their summer holiday, full of expectation, little suspecting then what lay in store for them and Tom had not really understood why his Uncle had tested them, pushing them harder and harder upon that steep climb.

  Did Ira know what was to come? Mo said he knew we would come to this place.

  With some difficulty Tom increased his pace.

  I won't let you down. I'll make it back home again.

  They came quite suddenly into a clearing, the tall trees that ringed the open space surrounding them like an eager crowd, their reaching branches creaking in the wind.

  Mo growled quick instructions at Jack, lifting his head from the ground and baring his teeth. "We are found! Prepare to fight or die."

  Jack's head swam with images of bloody battle. "We haven't got a chance," he heard himself mutter.

  "Do not falter," came the badger's harsh reply, "hold on to faith."

  Then, as Jack tried to take courage from the animal's words, a single hound appeared, huge and grey, stepping slowly from between the trees on the far side of the clearing. It stood motionless, pale, watery eyes regarding them.

  The dog was a giant. Not in all his life had Jack seen one that even came close to its size and build. The beast's muscled body rippled with power, it's wedge-shaped head a mass of hard bone, the flesh pulled taut, sleek coat bristling. Murderous fangs dribbled saliv
a as it began to stalk unhurriedly toward them and Jack knew full well what the fearsome creature intended. One look into its hateful eyes told him everything he needed to know.

  The hound's sinuous frame tensed, as if it meant to spring forward and Jack realised that there was no hope of escape, that if he tried to run, the dog would bring him down and tear him to pieces.

  "What can we do?" he said in a low, frightened voice, trying at the same time to remain perfectly still, afraid that any sound or movement might provoke the dog into attack. It halted its approach at the centre of the clearing, its massive body hunkered close to the ground, nostrils flared and its red maw opened wide as if it were tasting their scent.

  "You," commanded the badger coolly, responding to Jack's question, "must do nothing. I will deal with this creature."

  And with that Mo walked out into the open, there to face the hound on its own terms.

  "No," was all Jack could find to say, the word coming from his mouth in a hoarse whisper. But it was too late. The battle had begun.

  With shocking speed, the gigantic dog flew at its adversary, fangs bared, fluid trickling over its jaws, anticipating the taste of blood and flesh.

  And yet the badger stood his ground, apparently unafraid, and at the very last instant before the hound reached him, he shifted his weight and pushed upwards, striking hard into the dog's side and underbelly with his rigid snout. For brief seconds the grey monster was thrown off balance and seizing this opportunity, Mo attacked its exposed throat, his own sharp teeth revealed in all their deadly glory.

  Jack shut his eyes tightly. He did not want to see any more of it. Of course, he wanted Mo to win with all his heart, but the battle was so savage and horrific that he found he could not feel anything other than disgust.

  As the badger's teeth ripped into the dog's neck, shredding the main artery as they tore the flesh, blood exploded from the wound, a deluge pouring onto Mo's face and body. His fur was stained a dark, glistening red and within moments the hound was still, its carcass sprawled on the blood-soaked earth.

  Opening his eyes, Jack held his gaze downward, not wanting to face his friend, feeling changed by what had just taken place.

  Mo came to stand beside the boy and very slowly, warily, Jack looked up and was shocked by how old and tired the badger appeared now. "It is the way of the Beast to destroy," Mo stated, his tone weary. "But you should have learnt by now that things are never as they seem. So how can we judge the right from the wrong, the true from the false?"

  Jack shook his head sluggishly, his emotions muddled. "How can we ever be sure of anything then?" he asked eventually.

  "Follow your heart," was the badger's simple answer.

  And Jack knew that whatever Mo might do, even though those things might seem strange and terrible to him, he would go wherever the animal led, for he believed that whatever his actions, Mo's heart was good. And in this terrifying new world of deception and evil, he had to believe in something.

  Jagaren knelt beside the corpse of the hound and laughed gently to himself.

  So they mean to make a fight of it. All the better.

  It was a fine hunt indeed and with quicksilver speed and unearthly grace he was running again. He knew that he would catch up with them soon enough, but he enjoyed the chase almost as much as the kill itself and he meant to savour every moment.

  He smiled as he moved through the forest kingdom, his lips curled back to reveal

  unusually prominent teeth, his pupils clouded red, an insatiable lust for death inflaming his demonic heart.

  The shrews were closing in on them and Tom seriously doubted if they would have any chance of survival if it came to a fight. He didn't have a weapon to hand but he was ready to use his fists and his feet if necessary. He wouldn't fall easily, of that much he was determined.

  He had changed a lot since he and Jack had found their way into this new realm, so much so that he hardly knew himself sometimes it seemed. Strange thoughts and ideas arrived inside his head as if delivered by some outside intelligence, an almost entirely

  alien personality gradually emerging. Was this what growing up was like? He had been

  forced to leave his childhood far behind, as far as his own world seemed to him now. And now he faced death once more.

  "Around the next bend," called the voice of Elrin Jinn as they raced along the narrow tunnel.

  Tom prayed that the man meant that a place of safety was close by, but as they turned a corner both came to an abrupt halt, their way blocked by a small wooden door.

  Very close behind them now the squealing had become deafening and Tom's head was filled by the sound, the creatures rushing toward them, an army of wriggling bodies.

  "Open it!" Tom shouted, his fear potent, a helpless dread threatening to override his senses.

  Elrin Jinn reached out and turned an ornate bronze handle but the door remained closed. "Locked," he said off-handedly. "And now the shrews have us." Tom couldn't believe it. Was this really going to be the end after all? "We must make our stand," uttered Jinn, producing a modest sized dagger and offering it to the boy. "Are you ready to battle for your life?" Taking the weapon without a word, Tom glared angrily at the man. "Kill the first that comes," Jinn told him with a casual wave of his hand, "if you are swift and accurate, it may deter the others." Tom could only shake his head slowly as if in a daze. "Do not hesitate," instructed the man fiercely. "Unless you welcome death."

  The cries of the shrews had grown so loud that they seemed to ring through the tunnel like a single hideous voice and Tom barely had time to turn and see a long pointed

  nose above cusped incisor teeth, bared to strike, an awful hissing evoked from within as it bore down upon him.