The Magic Lands

by Mark Hockley

PARTING OF THE SEA

  THE SPIRITWALKER

  "Join me," called a voice, drifting up from the beach below.

  The light was fading rapidly now and Jack could hardly make out the broken form of the dead man, the waves roughly mauling the corpse each time they surged in.

  Jack's face held an amused grin, although his good humour was without substance, his emotions empty.

  He looked out across the water and listened to the sound of the waves, a murmur of sorrow, and he wondered where Tom could be, whether he was somewhere over the sea, beyond the dark horizon.

  "Tom is dead," whispered the phantom voice, confirming what he feared in his heart.

  The corpse was talking to him.

  "Tom," said Jack aloud, feeling that somehow he was responsible for his friend's death. He was a murderer after all, an assassin of some experience, so why not add Tom to the list. It really didn't make much difference now.

  "Join me," cried the voice of the dead man again. It seemed to offer him the peace he longed for.

  "No reason not to," he answered staring out toward the darkening sea and quite carefully he began to move his feet, first one step, then two, taking himself to the threshold of oblivion. Beneath him dry earth and loose rock crumbled, sending small fragments hurtling down onto the sand.

  He began to laugh, the sound hollow, the noise of wind and water swallowing it up instantly. "Here I come!" he shouted and leapt forward, his eyes transfixed by the rolling of the waves beneath him.

  But incredibly, Jack did not fall. He felt very strange inside, as if his stomach was turning over and over, making him want to retch.

  "Join me," came the voice from below, but it was muffled now and Jack decided to ignore it. He was much more interested in this new sensation of weightlessness.

  He tried to look about himself, but his eyes seemed to be impaired in some way and he could only make out black and white contours that flashed by so fast he couldn't identify what they might be.

  "You must trust me," a man's voice said within his mind, but this was not the corpse speaking to him.

  "I want to fall," Jack said stubbornly. "I want to die."

  "You are needed," the voice told him, the words exploding in his head.

  "I must pay for my crimes," Jack muttered, "it's the only way justice can be done. If I die, then the slate is wiped clean."

  "Foolish boy," the voice reproached him harshly, "what makes you think it is up to you to decide? Such judgements can never belong to us."

  Jack's perceptions were gradually returning and all of a sudden, he saw what had happened to him.

  He was suspended in the air, about ten feet out from the cliff-top, but he was not still. He whirled around in a mad circle at a dreadful speed, his arms thrown wide, the muscles of his face flexing uncontrollably, frightened eyes bulging from their sockets.

  Stop it! Stop it! he cried out only in his mind, not able to speak.

  "Only if you help me," the man's voice said abruptly, penetrating the hysteria that had begun to claim him.

  I will, I promise. Please just make it stop.

  "Focus on my thoughts. Let your mind connect with mine. I cannot hold you for much longer."

  All Jack wanted was for the terrible spinning to stop, his head thick with nausea, his mind reeling and when he felt another consciousness take hold inside of him, he did not attempt to resist it. He welcomed it in, letting it envelop him and almost at once he felt himself floating effortlessly upward, his body still rotating, but at a much reduced rate. Then his feet met with solid ground again, taking him completely by surprise and for several moments Jack staggered to and fro, fighting to stay upright before collapsing in a heap upon the rock. His head throbbed and he wanted to vomit.

  "You are safe," said a voice from above him, the same voice that had guided him back from death, and Jack heard the echo of it in his thoughts, the link between their minds lingering on. His eyes fluttered open and looking up he saw who had spoken to him.

  "We are bonded now," Dredger said with a solemn expression. "Fate is full of irony, don't you think?"

  Somewhere close by Tom heard the jingle of a tiny bell.

  All of his efforts to locate the sea had been frustrated and feeling utterly lost, he hoped that the sound would herald the appearance of a traveller, someone who would be able to help him find his way. But of course, he had learnt by now that it was just as likely to announce nothing more than another one of the Wolf’s deadly games. So with this in mind, he cautiously crept along a grassy bank, hunching himself down as low as possible, unwilling to show himself to whatever lay beyond.

  To his amazement, a small lamb came trotting over the ridge, a golden bell around its neck tinkling as it moved. The animal didn’t appear to be aware of him, even though it was no more than a few feet away and continued to wander aimlessly, stopping now and again to taste the grass.

  As Tom watched the lamb, another came running over the hill and made its way down to join the first, settling in beside it to explore the surrounding vegetation. There then followed another dozen or so, all bunching together at the foot of the rise and Tom was struck by the fact that only the first wore a bell. Perhaps it was the leader. Even as he thought this their shepherdess appeared, skipping nimbly down the side of the bank toward him, her golden hair partially hidden by a red hood, a crooked staff clasped in her left hand.

  "Lisa," he gasped, delighted to see her here in this wilderness and she smiled at him, patting the lambs upon their heads as she moved amongst them.

  "Hello there," she said, unusually shy, keeping her eyes averted as she spoke. The hood she wore was part of a one-piece cloak that flowed about her and upon her feet were shiny black shoes with silver buckles. "Well, Tom," she breathed, eyeing him with an appreciative smile, apparently unabashed now. "I've found you again. It must have been a long time since we last saw each other, because you look so much older."

  "I feel older," he told her, a little more seriously than he had intended. She stood so close and looked into his eyes with such a knowing gaze that he felt uncomfortable.

  "The little ones have come a long way," she remarked dreamily, "they need a rest." She sat down and began to stroke the nearest lamb to her, running her fingers through its thick wool but looking at Tom the whole time.

  "I'm lost," he announced abruptly, throwing his arms wide as if this confirmed that he didn't know where he was, at the same time thinking how foolish he must appear to her. He didn't know how to act or what to say.

  Lisa regarded him for a moment with a slight frown and then laughed, a beguiling sound. "Why, Tom," she giggled, "you really are funny!"

  Not knowing how he should react to this, Tom tried to laugh too but couldn't. If anything, he felt rather annoyed. "It's not a joke," he asserted grumpily.

  Immediately Lisa's expression became thoughtful and standing, she came close beside him, so that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "Oh Tom, I’m so sorry, I didn't realise that you were feeling sad."

  Her sudden change of mood took Tom by surprise and though she seemed sincere, he couldn't be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. Was it all just a game to her? Was life just a charade, in which feelings were nothing more than masks to be worn and then discarded?

  "I..." he began tentatively. "I wish things could be different."

  Smiling gently, Lisa touched her lips upon his and Tom felt the warmth of her kiss move through his entire body. Then drawing away from him, she laughed again. "Now come on, Tom," she called, skipping away, "let's not be sad, let's be happy!"

  She began to run around him, jumping gracefully in the air, laughing as she went, then left him to weave her way among the sheep who rubbed themselves against her legs as she passed by.

  Throwing his cares aside Tom ran after her, knowing that if such a thing as love existed, it had taken hold of him and made him its own. Everything was forgotten in that moment, his friends, the quest, even the Wolf. There was only the girl,
running toward the top of the hill, her blonde hair flying and the feeling of elation that coursed through him, spurring him on. And yet, as Tom chased after her and she eluded him with frustrating ease, an image began to push its way into his mind unbidden, a dreadful vision that threatened to overwhelm him. He resisted it, concentrating on Lisa just ahead, just out of reach, but it took shape before his eyes, blotting out all else and he was forced to look upon a horrific scene.

  Hanging from a tall, wizened tree was the body of a large badger, its legs trussed, a muzzle tight over its snout, and sitting cross-legged beneath the animal's dangling carcass, eyes gleaming as he stared back at Tom, was Jack, a deck of cards laid out on the ground in front of him. His friend reached down and cut the pack in half and then held out the card he had revealed.

  "Am I the Joker in the pack?" he asked with a flicker of a smile, the jester on the card bearing an uncanny resemblance to Jack.

  And all the while, inside Tom's head, he heard the same words said over and over again. "There is nothing you can do."

  Tom stopped running and gazed uncertainly at Lisa, who continued on, scrambling up onto the top of the high bank.

  "There’s nothing I can do," he whispered. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to rid himself of the terrible vision, but it remained, vivid and irrefutable.

  Biting his tongue until blood flowed over his lips, Tom fought against it, willing it to go away and gradually the image began to fade. Shaking and close to tears, he stood alone, his arms wrapped around his chest, his head hung low. "No, it’s not true," he said with force. "It’s not!"

  Lisa had come back down toward him now, concern in her bright eyes and he found himself wondering in the face of such beauty, why the world was full of dark things that seemed to be always ready to take advantage of you, delighting in your misery. There was, as always, no answer.

  The girl touched his hand and Tom managed a half-hearted smile. But inside he grappled with futility, whose silent veil had eclipsed his mind and heart.

  "All will be well," Lisa assured him. "All will be well, my little one."

  Jack was looking up into the face of a man he did not recognise.

  "Is this a friend of yours?" he asked sourly. He directed the question at Dredger who stood beside the fair-haired stranger, but both men smiled simultaneously and Jack noticed how alike the two were dressed, each carrying a sword at their side.

  "Have you forgotten me so soon?" enquired Dredger's companion in a voice that was unmistakable.

  " Mo?" said the boy hesitantly, gazing at the man with doubt in his eyes.

  "Indeed, Jack, it is I. And I am very relieved to have you back safe and sound."

  Even though the voice was that of his friend, Jack was very confused. He had learnt before that the badger somehow had the ability to change his appearance, but when he had last seen him in human guise, it had not been as the man who stood before him now.

  "Why don't you look the same as before?" he questioned and out of the corner of his eye saw the hard smile on Dredger's face grow wider.

  The fair-haired man looked down at the boy with a kindness that Jack had seen so many times on the face of a badger. "There are occasions when anonymity can be to my advantage," he said and then chuckling to himself, added, "although I had not intended the effect to carry as far as my friends."

  Jack frowned at this. "So what do you really look like?"

  Mo paused before answering. "I may come as a thousand, but I am only one," he began with perhaps some regret. “I am nothing more or less than I seem to be, and yet I am more than you can thus far understand. I hope, Jack, that you will soon learn that it is not the outward shape which you must judge, but what lies, often hidden, within. Darkness can very easily be concealed behind the mask of a pretty face, it is always difficult to recognise. But look hard and you will soon find that appearances are always deceptive."

  Now Jack knew it was without question Mo, for there was no-one else in the world who spoke like that, and yet the moment of warmth this realisation brought was short-lived, as the ghosts of his past returned to torment him.

  "You should have let me die," he muttered, the truth now clearly defined in his memory. It felt as if a thousand blades were mutilating his spirit in a frenzy of self loathing and remorse for what he had done.

  "I know how you feel inside," someone said to him and he looked toward Mo, expecting to find sympathy in that familiar gaze, but incredibly it was Dredger who had spoken.

  We are bonded now, Jack remembered the warrior saying and he knew in a way beyond his own awareness that it was true. A change had come over him, an almost imperceptible transformation, so intimate that it was hard to express in words. Now Dredger too carried the insurmountable weight of his sins and Jack understood that whilst he was still responsible for the burden, and always would be, he would no longer have to shoulder it alone.

  Looking up into Dredger's eyes, the boy gave a grim smile. "What happens now?"

  "We must make ready to sail," Mo said, coming closer, the sea wind buffeting them.

  Jack had barely noticed the way the sea had calmed suddenly, leaving only the gusting breeze in its wake. "But what about Tom?" he questioned, afraid of the answer.

  "I pray Tom will be with us," Mo told him. "But it is up to him now to find the way."

  "He's alive then!?" cried Jack, hardly daring to hope.

  Mo nodded, pressing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We must return to Pelagian and prepare for our voyage."

  "There is nothing more to be gained by remaining here," Dredger interjected, before Jack could ask anything more.

  The decision made, they negotiated their way along the cliff path and as they hurried toward the town, Jack was lost in his own thoughts. He was glad that Tom was all right, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to see him again just yet, not after all that had happened since they had been separated. He was not the boy he had been when last they saw each other; he had changed and he was afraid of what Tom might think if he were to see him now. All the way down from the headland and back into the cobbled streets of Pelagian, Jack wrestled with his uncertainties, one part of him desperate to see Tom and speak with him, another part dreading such a reunion, the shame of what he had become almost too much to bear.

  Everything was out of control. He felt alone still, despite his companions, utterly forsaken, for how could he trust anyone as a friend, when he couldn't even trust himself?

  Shooing away one of the smallest of the lambs that had been nibbling at the hem of her cloak, Lisa looked at Tom, her eyes sparkling and what he saw in her gaze made him feel a little uneasy.

  They had sat hand in hand for some time, a comfortable silence between them but exactly how they came to be holding hands in the first place, Tom couldn't quite remember. It had just happened.

  "Do you know where we are?" he asked eventually, the question intrusive but impossible to ignore. Memories of the sea came back to him, yet they were vague, unimportant now.

  Lisa turned her head away from him for a moment to look out across the hillside, and Tom felt a curious mixture of relief and disappointment to be free of her regard. "I'm not sure really," she said, her eyes locking onto his once more, stealing his breath away. "The land is always changing you know. It never stays the same."

  Tom wondered at this. "What do you mean?" he questioned her, thinking that she might know something to his advantage.

  "It's just how things are," Lisa told him with an air of finality.

  "How did you come to be here then?" he ventured, trying a different approach, but Lisa merely frowned, apparently confused.

  "I'm here to be with you," she said softly, squeezing his hand and Tom could have easily believed that this was all no more than another dream. But this time it was real, Lisa was real, a person of flesh and blood like himself and not just a fantasy.

  "But don't you know how you got here?" he persisted, although a part of him deep inside just wanted him to shut up.

 
; "I'm always here or there," Lisa remarked and Tom could do nothing but shrug his shoulders, realising that he wouldn't learn anything by asking her questions.

  Softly, Lisa began to sing, her blue eyes penetrating Tom's mind, her fingers very slowly circling his palm.

  "Within a heart of ice I melt

  the twilight of your soul,

  I come with hands of fire

  the storm before the lull,

  you create me from a wish

  deep within the spark,

  but sometimes even flame

  cannot light the dark."

  Listening to her, Tom was moved by an obscure sadness that although unfounded, still unsettled him, the melody replaying again and again in his head.

  "Tom?" she said to him, her expression grave.

  He waited for her to continue, but she appeared unsure and lowered her eyes, blushing just a little. "What is it?" he queried.

  Coming closer to him, so that their bodies brushed together, she seemed to alter subtly, the look in her eyes intense, inexplicably more adult. "Kiss me," she told him, a gentle command.

  As their lips met, Tom was overcome by feelings he had never known before, surging through his whole body like fire, consuming him. He was aware distantly that he had entered an unknown place, far stranger, far more dangerous even than the one he had discovered when he had climbed the tree at the end of the garden. But now, as the fire stirred within him, becoming an inferno, he realised that whatever it was that had claimed him, it could not be denied.

  Is this right? But this inner voice was small, easily ignored. Desire had taken him, dragging him on, helpless in its unyielding grasp and with a sense of wonder, of awe, he knew that an irrevocable step was before him, one that could not be taken without loss.

  He was afraid and yet longed to slip further into the pool of mystery that Lisa offered him, and giving himself up at last, resisting no more, his mind, body and soul were lost in her. She had become his world.

  A great ship waited in the harbour just off the wharf, its anchor embedded deep into the silt of the seabed. It was a sturdy craft, three tall masts rising from the deck, the heavy mainsails growling in the wind, the hull sitting low in the water laden with cargo.

  They had spent some time at an inn, Jack hardly sleeping while they were there. His entire system had been disoriented and he didn't know whether they had stayed in their rooms for one day or many. Nothing had any pattern here, not even night and day. At times, the darkness lasted for what he thought was only a few hours, while at others it seemed to drag on for days. But what were days? What was time?

  "Does she have a name?" he asked Mo, gesturing at the ship and giving no suggestion of the turmoil inside his mind.

  The fair-haired man nodded out toward the vessel. "The Spiritwalker," he stated, watching the way the craft moved restlessly, as if eager to be away from the land.

  Dredger was at that very moment aboard, making arrangements with the Captain for their passage, their destination still vague as far as Jack was concerned. Soon he and Mo would join them and then they would sail away, leaving Tom behind for good. Guilt seemed to be Jack's constant companion now and he wondered if things might be different if his friend were here with him.

  The odd mingling of his mind with that of Dredger still prevailed in his subconscious, though it was like a sleeping thing, for which he was grateful. And though he knew that he had the warrior to thank for his life, and perhaps his sanity too, still he felt violated in some indefinable way and that was not something easily dismissed, or easily borne.

  A decision would have to made very soon and it would be the hardest he had ever faced. Stay or go?

  Should he put all his trust in his companions or remain behind to search for Tom, come what may? Was the choice even his to make?

  He knew full well that Dredger expected to be obeyed without question and since the warrior's return from his trial in the lost city, he seemed more self-assured and commanding than ever before.

  As for Mo, he too counselled going on, telling Jack that Tom would find the way for himself. But in the midst of all his doubts, Jack found that hard to accept.

  "I'm not sure it would be right for me to come with you any further," he announced suddenly, the words out of his mouth before he had really thought about the consequences of what he was saying.

  "You fear for Tom," Mo said with understanding, not in the least surprised.

  Jack sighed heavily. "I just can't go off again, knowing there's no way he can find us once we're at sea. He's my best friend and I know he wouldn't leave me out there somewhere, all alone."

  Hesitating before making a reply, Mo patted him on the back. "You're a good boy, Jack, or should I say now, a good man."

  Jack barely smiled but appreciated the comment nonetheless. "So you see that I can't go with you?" he asked, the idea of parting from his only other real friend making his spirits low.

  "I understand, Jack," the man told him, "but I would ask you one thing." The boy listened attentively, hoping for some advice on where he might search for Tom. "We are all told, often by our parents or someone who loves us, of a thing called faith. It is a strange thing indeed, for some say it does not exist and certainly, it cannot be seen. It is also a fragile thing and very rare, but it can be found, here and there, in the heart of a child, in the mind of a man, in the love of a woman. If you do not come with us, all will fail, all will be lost. I tell you this as a fact. Faith is what I ask you to have now, Jack. Faith in the truth. Trust and have faith, not in me, not in Dredger, or even Tom. Have faith in yourself, and believe that in the end things will work out for the best."

  Jack wasn't sure if words were enough this time. If he got it wrong, it would be like sentencing Tom to death, and then he would really have his friend's blood on his hands. But could he risk everything by refusing to believe? At least with Mo and Dredger, he felt there was a chance they might succeed, however slight.

  "I’ll try," he said very quietly, "I'll try to believe."

  "There is nothing more difficult than believing in a dream," Mo uttered with a fleeting smile.

  Jack nodded. "And yet dreams are everything here."

  Neither of them said anything more, merely gazing out at The Spiritwalker, the instrument of Jack's test of faith.

  The changes within him were unhurried, developing at a deliberate pace, but Jack was growing up. And the game he had been asked to play too was one of change. And one of choices.

  The Wolf was watching them. It could see what no other saw. It could see within hearts and minds.

  And though certain things had not played out true to its design, still this was of no real consequence. For in its ever calculating, ever scheming mind, new devises were being invented, new traps and tricks for boys who fancied themselves now men. It basked in the glory of its own brilliance.

  Oh, the dreams of children. They were sweet meat indeed. Corruption was so very easy.

  It was content for the moment to watch and wait. The Beast had learned the art of patience. It knew, from knowledge and a wisdom gained during an immeasurable span of existence, all there was to know. Except perhaps just one secret. The thing it coveted. The true purpose. The reason for the game.

  "I am everything!" the Wolf roared suddenly, but there was real doubt in its fiery eyes. A seed of uncertainty.

  And though it understood that madness touched its mind, this was only as it should be. Too many judged others by their own shallow, misguided laws, created to suppress the innovative who might bring into fruition the dreams of tomorrow.