The Magic Lands

by Mark Hockley

THE SEVENTH STEP

  "Here's a change of clothes for you lad. You look as though you need 'em!" Captain Welles had said, who appeared for all the world to Jack to be the archetypal mariner with his ruddy, bearded face and stocky build, an old pipe tucked in the corner of his mouth.

  Now in his cabin, he glanced down at himself and saw what a state he had got into, and with it came memories of a darkness that had poisoned his heart. Just the thought of what had taken place in the shadows of the Wolf's depraved mind made Jack's stomach lurch, disgust and anger rocking him with implacable force and he sat down hard on the bunk, only able to steady himself by thinking of Tom. What horrors of his own might his friend be facing now?

  He set about changing into the clean clothes he had been given. They were rather baggy and ill-fitting, but at least warm and dry. He did however, refuse the oversized shoes he had been offered, preferring his own worn but comfortable boots and it was as he was tucking in his new shirt that there came a knock at the door.

  "I see you are a new man," Dredger observed humourlessly, stepping inside. There was a different relationship between them now, one that Jack found in many ways uncomfortable. And yet there was also an affinity between them that was strangely welcome. "Kindred spirits?" the man said, as if reading the boy's mind. "For we both now know the darkness more intimately than before." There was an uneasy silence between them until the warrior continued. "We shall soon set sail and you will need all of your youthful vigour if you are to survive our journey. I have come to give you a warning. Do not expect me to be there to save you when next the Wolf comes to claim you for its own.”

  Jack didn't know how he was expected to respond, but anger boiled just below the surface as he spoke. "You don't have to worry about me," he began, the words not sounding quite as hard as he had intended and quite unexpectedly, Dredger laughed.

  "There is no fear of my concern, boy, no fear of that at all." And without another word he left, leaving Jack mixed up, his emotions difficult to fathom.

  He was afraid, and guilt lived alongside that fear, but now, something new had joined these feelings, a determination to be more than a child who could only stand by and watch whilst others fought his battles. He had a place in this affair, a purpose. It was true that he didn't know what his role would be, but nonetheless, he was certain that destiny held him in mind.

  When the time came, as it must, he would not shirk the responsibilities of providence.

 

  Asleep again. I must be dreaming, Tom reasoned.

  "Do you know," he said aloud, "I'm sick to death of dreaming!" But there was no-one there to hear him.

  He was standing on a great expanse of ice, which he guessed was a lake overrun by a freezing winter. Beneath his feet it was like a sheet of clear glass and below him a cobalt kingdom laboured, held in thrall by an aloof taskmaster.

  If I try to walk, I'll only fall flat on my face.

  "This is stupid!" he shouted out at the pale, grey sky and the echoes came back to him, a cold and lonely sound.

  Surveying the area, he saw high banks of snow creating a cauldron around him. The landscape beyond the snow banks was indiscernible, only the tops of tall, gaunt trees visible, a grim and silent gallery for his dream show.

  At the furthest perimeter of the frozen lake, Tom saw what looked very much like a figure, standing completely still on the ice and as he continued to watch, trying to decide if he should call out, the figure began to move toward him, gliding effortlessly across the glassy surface of the lake.

  "Skates!" Tom realised, a sense of wonder making him gasp, a cloud of frozen breath billowing from his mouth to drift away into the still air. "Good idea!" he shouted as the skater covered half the distance between them. "Where can I get a pair of those?"

  The figure waved and started to circle him, picking up speed until he, or she, raced around and around, making Tom feel quite giddy. He couldn't see the person's face because of a scarf that tightly covered their mouth and nose and upon their head, pulled down over the ears, they wore a red bobble hat.

  Concluding with several pirouettes, the skater finally moved closer and stopped just a few feet in front of him with a hiss of ruptured ice.

  "Hello there," Tom said sociably and from within the hat and scarf, two bright eyes gazed back at him.

  "Who are you?" questioned a muffled voice, sounding male and yet somehow effeminate.

  "Tom Lewis," he said, holding out his hand ready to shake, but the skater, who was about Tom's height, remained perfectly still. Feeling rather awkward and increasingly embarrassed, Tom waited for his hand to be taken. "Aren't you going to shake?" he asked eventually, exasperated.

  The figure made no response and just continued to look steadily at him, eyes alert, and Tom was obliged to lower his hand, his initial irritation turning to anger.

  "So that's how it is, is it?" he fumed, his harsh voice reverberating across the emptiness of the frozen lake. "Well, who needs you anyway? Why don't you just clear off!?" Fully expecting the skater to depart, Tom glared at him menacingly, but saw only amusement in the other's eyes. "So you think it's funny, do you?" he shouted, fury taking control of him.

  "What's wrong?" the skater enquired softly, chuckling now, "are you losing your temper?" Tom would have found it quite gratifying to punch that hidden face, but his hands were extremely cold, almost painfully so and he shoved them deep into his pockets instead. "Little boy cold?" asked the skater scornfully.

  "Why don't you just get lost!" Tom told him, turning away, hoping the stranger would go away and leave him alone. He had only wanted to be friendly and this was the reward he got for his trouble.

  "What's wrong, don't you think it's fair?" the skater taunted him.

  Bringing one of his hands out from its warm sanctuary, Tom turned back and pointed an aggressive finger. "I’m warning you," he hissed, "if you don't push-off right now, I'm going to knock you down!" If it came to a fist fight, Tom was more than ready. In fact, he was eager for it. Just one decent blow to silence that mocking voice and he was sure he would feel a whole lot better.

  "And I thought you were all grown up," chided the skater shaking his head, his voice subtly altered, now neither male nor female, the sound of it familiar in some distant way. "I thought you fancied yourself a man."

  Tom hesitated at this, still wanting to lash out but managing to control the impulse and all at once he realised he had been acting like a child, always wanting to take the easy way out, always ready to act first and consider the consequences later, if at all. "Look," he began, feeling that he should try to explain, but the skater interrupted him.

  "You're nothing more than a little boy and don't you forget it," he spat with such vehemence that Tom actually took a step backward. "You're a small, insignificant nobody, who should mind his manners and not insist on meddling in other peoples affairs when they do not concern you. Why do you even think you should have a say? It's for grownups to decide what’s right and wrong, and for children to obey. You should have stayed at home, instead of sticking your nose into things that don't concern you. You would have been so much safer there. Oh, you can play at being a man, strutting around so full of yourself, fumbling with girls, getting yourself all worked up, hot and bothered, but if truth be known, you're just a pathetic...little...brat. Will children never learn? No, I don't suppose they will, not unless you beat it into them. But I'm inclined to think that with you, it's more that's needed, a good deal more.”

  Even as these words violated his mind, Tom was already slipping away from the desolate, frozen waste, and lifted on a current of warm air, he was carried far away.

  Back into Lisa's arms. Where it was safe.

  Mo was a badger again. But this only unsettled Jack.

  "I was just getting used to you as a man!" he said, and the animal smiled, reminding the boy of other times.

  "I’m always the same Jack, if you just look hard enough." The boy nodded, aware that this was true and yet the way things could chan
ge so suddenly in this world of the imagination had left him feeling confused, striving against the doubt and the sorrow that were now a constant part of him. "You miss Tom very much, don't you?" said the badger unexpectedly, and for Jack there was no need to answer, even if he could have found the words. He gave himself up to memories, allowing his mind to bring back the good times he and Tom had shared together.

  There had been one particular rainy afternoon at school, when the prospect of a double period of maths had become too much for them and they had resolved, in what they thought of as an act of rebellion, to do the unthinkable, and skip the lesson. Taking refuge in the toilets, they had spent the whole time terrified of being discovered and yet strangely elated. It had been something neither of them had ever forgotten, that long, anxious wait until it was safe to show themselves again. They had often recalled that day with contrite affection, for it was the sharing that had made the experience so special to them, two against the world, and it was from such moments that there had grown a bond between them that could never be broken.

  Friends always, thought Jack, coming back to himself and somehow it made him feel better.

  "What would the crew say if they saw you like that?" he asked, changing the subject and with a low rumble of laughter, Mo allowed the moment to pass.

  "I think it might well cause some dismay," the animal admitted, "but I just wanted to show you that I am still here. Just in case you needed some reassurance."

  "Thanks," Jack told him, a great fondness for the old badger washing over him, knowing full well that if Mo had not been there, he would have almost certainly given up by now. "Where are we going now?"

  Mo scraped one long claw on the floor of the cabin. "You recall our visit to the caves of Rith-ran-ro-en?" he began at length. Jack nodded. "And you recall also that it was there that Tom asked the way we must go?"

  "Yes," agreed Jack, "I remember he was given a rhyme, but don't ask me how it went because I don't have a clue."

  "Fortunately for us both," voiced the badger, "I have both a clue and a solution, for I took the trouble to memorise what was said." And once more, Mo recited the rune spoken by Rith-ran-ro-en at the heart of her catacomb prison. "Take just seven steps to find your heart’s desire, a promise of regret to lay within the fire. On to the very edge and claim a blighted kiss, there to meet your match, beyond the dark abyss."

  Jack shrugged his shoulders, the words as meaningless to him now as they had been when he first heard them. "So what does it mean?" he questioned, his interest rekindled, and speaking slowly, as if considering the problem with great care, the badger replied.

  "The first part is easy enough. You may have seen several islands off the coast." Jack nodded affirmation, so Mo continued. "Well, there are seven such islands, the furthest quite some distance out to sea and barely visible from the land. Amongst the locals

  hereabouts, these islands are known as the Seven Steps."

  "So we've got to go to the furthest island?" Jack ventured.

  “Yes,” agreed Mo, “that is our goal for the present.”

  But Jack only returned the badger’s gaze with a glum expression. "What difference does it make if we can't find Tom?"

  The old badger sighed. "Things go as they must. Do not let your doubts get the better of you. Believe in the divine hand that conceived this game that we play."

  "Game?" said Jack harshly, "is that what this is, a game!? What the hell gives anyone the right to play games with our lives?"

  Mo paused, considering his next words carefully. "Perhaps the word game was ill-chosen. But to an observer it might appear to be as a game. Yet the stakes are as high as they can be. The winner takes all…and the loser forfeits everything."

  "If you know so much, why can't you explain it to me?" Jack demanded. "I need to know."

  "The best I can do is to say that it very much like a lesson, and we are among the students in a vast classroom. We strive for understanding, but you cannot know all there is to know on your first day at school. Now, finally, we near graduation, and yet we still have to pass our exams."

  Jack shook his head in despair, struggling to comprehend. "I don't know," he muttered, "I think I know what you're going on about...I just wish it made more sense to me that’s all."

  "Keep studying," the animal advised him.

  Jack sat on the edge of his bunk with his head in his hands and for a moment neither one of them spoke, the boy thinking hard about what had been said, the badger watching him.

  "So what about the rest of the poem?" asked Jack, returning to the task at hand. "What does that mean?"

  "Yes," pondered Mo, "I am afraid the rest is not quite so transparent. On to the very edge must certainly refer to the edge of the world. If we sail far enough we will reach it eventually."

  Jack stared at his friend in disbelief. "Now wait a minute," he blustered, finding it impossible to believe that the badger could be so foolish, "everyone knows that the world is round. You can't sail off the edge of the world! If you go far enough you'll just come back to where you started!" To Jack's further surprise, Mo laughed warmly, his dark eyes alive with mirth. "What's so funny?" he questioned, his mouth tight, feeling he was the butt of a joke.

  "My young friend," said the animal, containing his laughter, "you must realise that already you have travelled beyond the edge of your own world. All that you knew, or thought you knew, has been made redundant. All you ever learnt has been shown to be only a glimpse of the truth."

  The badger was right of course, Jack saw. He could no longer depend on what he had been taught in the past. The laws were different here. Everything was different. He had never believed in magic before, although many times in his life he had wished it could be real. But now he found that real magic did exist, that it was an intrinsic part

  of these strange lands into which he had stumbled. Anything could happen. The Wolf saw to that.

  Wherever Tom was, Jack understood that he too would be subject to this new reality.

  They were both aliens in a realm of spurious design and once more, this bound them together. Being apart could not change that.

  "Make sail!" Captain Welles cried, initiating a flurry of activity from his crew as they set about readying The Spiritwalker for her voyage.

  Dredger stood on the high forecastle deck, staring out at the mild ocean. There was barely enough wind to propel them toward their destination, but the warrior had no doubts that they would get there. The Beast expected him to come. And Dredger would not disappoint his foe.

  Two immense sails were hoisted up, each with a separate motif impressively stitched onto the canvas, one with an enormous eye, a golden coin as its pupil, whilst the other pictured a monumental crucifix, attacked by a giant serpent rearing up from a volatile sea.

  "Captain," Dredger called, approaching the seaman as he issued instructions from the upper deck. "Remember we will make only a brief stop at the island, then we must make full speed toward the edge. There must be no needless delays."

  The Captain nodded his consent. "And you remember, friend, that I have cargo to deliver at Chimeria before we make off on this fool's errand. We can pass The Seventh Step on route, although I can't imagine what you expect to find there."

  The warrior chuckled at this, ignoring the man's final remark. "You do not believe we will find the abyss?"

  Captain Welles spat at the ground and then began to fill his pipe. "The abyss!? I have sailed these waters since I was no more than a pup and I'm telling you there is no such thing. But you're paying me a handsome enough sum to ensure that I'll sail you anywhere you want to go. And when you're tired of looking, I'll sail you right back to

  land where you belong!" The seaman puffed on his pipe for a moment before adding. "And anyway, it's not as if you're asking me to sail my ship and crew right over the damn edge of the world, now is it?"

  A cryptic smile played about Dredger's lips. "No," he acknowledged. "At least not unless it becomes absolutely necessary."
>
  Captain Welles laughed roughly at this and running a large hand across his chin, spat upon the deck again. "You've got a good sense of humour, man, I'll give you that!"

  "Indeed," Dredger agreed easily, "it is well for you that I have, or I might take offence at your poor manners." He nodded toward the saliva splattered close beside his boots.

  Welles grinned at the warrior through his beard, but his passenger's face was impassive and the old seaman knew just by looking at the man, that this was not going to be an uneventful voyage. But even though a bargain had been struck, he would never put his ship at risk. It was his livelihood after all and more importantly, his life, all that he had ever known. No, he would not risk that for anything or anyone. If the truth be told, he didn't like this warrior very much and that meant he didn't trust him either. To Welles, Dredger was the type who thought himself superior to ordinary working men, but then warriors were always the same from his experience, too big for their britches, all swagger and no heart, and he had no doubt that the same went for this one's fair-haired companion too. If either of them caused any trouble with him or his crew, pay or no pay, then they would soon find out what real fighting was all about.

  Although the dream seemed distant now, it still preoccupied Tom. He and Lisa were playing with the lambs ruffling their woolly necks, the sheep in turn snuggling up against them, trusting completely in the benevolence of the boy and girl.

  "Are you happy now?" Lisa asked him.

  "Yes," he answered, but something in his tone or expression must have given him away, for a dark cloud appeared to pass over her face, an unfathomable sadness in her eyes.

  "Why are you still sad?" she questioned, and though he thought hard, trying to choose the words that would make her understand, Tom found that he could not speak. "Don't you want to be with me?" she asked him, the glimmer of a tear forming at the corner of her eye.

  Taking her hand, Tom shook his head. "It's not that," he said urgently, "it's just that I know I should be somewhere else. There are people depending on me."

  "I depend on you now," Lisa told him, moving closer.

  "There are things I have to do," he countered, hating this conversation and wishing he could just forget everything but her.

  "But why you?" she wanted to know, her distress obvious and Tom found that he didn't really have an answer to this.

  "It's just the way things are, I suppose," he said inadequately.

  "So you're going to go away and leave me?" There was accusation in her voice, her dark eyes watching him carefully, and beneath her gaze Tom felt utterly lost, incapable of saying anything that might hurt her.

  "I never want to leave you," he managed to say, meaning it, and saw Lisa smile.

  She edged closer still, until he felt the warmth of her body against his. "And I don't want you to ever go away," she whispered, placing her head on his shoulder, her arms encircling his waist tightly.

  Remaining silent, caught in her embrace, Tom drifted away into memory again, his mind summoning pictures from his past. He had known both good times and bad. But even in the happiest of days, a part of him had felt incomplete, as though he had always been searching for something that now, at last, he had found. Being here with Lisa, his troubles seemed remote and far less important than they had before and he wanted nothing else. There were others who could do what must be done. There had to be. Why did he have to bear responsibility for the safety of the world? It was ridiculous!

  Why couldn't he just be like everyone else and just be left alone? Was that really too much to ask?

  Jack stood on the poop deck and watched the crew as they went about their appointed tasks, displaying an ease and familiarity that came from many years spent upon the open sea. Above, the rigging creaked mournfully and the sails rippled in a gentle breeze as they moved leisurely through calm waters. Pelagian lay far behind them, the daylight fading and already they had passed three of the small islands that comprised The Seven Steps.

  Once more in human guise, Mo stood in deep discussion with Dredger, the two men alone at the stern of the ship and Jack moved closer in an attempt to hear their conversation, and although the men kept their voices low he still was able to make out some of what was said, the sound carried to him on the wind.

  "I think I should be the judge of that," Dredger reacted angrily and Jack saw the fair-haired man make some reply, facing his companion so that the boy could not see his face, or make out what it was he said. "I need not heed your advice, friend," Dredger snapped back, eyes flashing, then quite clearly, Jack heard Mo's voice calmly answer.

  "Use your new wisdom well, for even those who command great power are not infallible."

  The other man responded with a flicker of a smile. "Whichever way the table is turned," he said, "I will do what I must." This appeared to end the exchange and Dredger walked briskly away across the deck.

  For Jack's part, it only served to make him more uneasy about their decision to put to sea in the first place and approaching Mo with this in mind, he studied the man who it seemed could take any form he wished, the ultimate stranger and yet Jack's closest ally now that they had lost Tom.

  "Is something wrong?" he asked, coming up beside Mo, who leant upon the rail and gazed out at the sea.

  Glancing down at him, the man smiled briefly, strain and weariness etched upon his face. "The Wolf works its vile sorcery in many ways," he said quietly, "and I fear that often even the wise can become fools."

  "Do you think things are going to turn out all right?" Jack wondered, the sigh of the water and the groan of the timber a tenuous comfort.

  "In the end all will be well. But the wounds of the heart that many have to endure before then, is the greatest test ever conceived. Each of us is asked to leap into a pit of darkness where vipers writhe in obscenity, armed with only our faith. Sometimes I wonder if it is asking too much."

  "Maybe that's the whole point," Jack suggested, surprised at himself, finding it strange that he should be the one who was trying to offer consolation.

  Mo patted the boy's shoulder affectionately and then looked back toward the horizon. "Still night does not descend. Only twilight for us. It is a sign."

  "A sign?" Jack questioned.

  "Yes," nodded Mo. "The Beast is watching and waiting. It knows the game very well, but even the Wolf is merely another player, as are we. And we shall need all of the courage and guile that we possess, if we are to defeat it. We must guard against its trickery. Perhaps we shall need to be as cunning and ruthless as the Wolf itself if we can ever hope to win."

  "You make it sound as if we'll have to become beasts ourselves," Jack said anxiously.

  Again Mo nodded. "There are those who believe that is the case."

  "And is that what you think?" the boy asked, troubled by this statement.

  "It doesn't really matter what I think, Jack. I am, after all, only one. Each must decide for themselves."

  "Well I don't think we need to be like the Wolf to win," Jack declared, "I'll never believe in that."

  Looking at him steadily, Mo smiled, this time without reservation. "Let us pray that in our hearts, all believe as you do."

  "What about Dredger?" probed Jack after a moment's pause, curious about the heated words he had overheard. "Is he all right?"

  "Dredger is unto himself," replied the man. "He lives by his own code, but since his journey to Hydan, he has changed in many ways. He has become far more powerful than even he yet realises, but in other ways he is far weaker and far more vulnerable. There are few things the White Wolf does not perceive, few things it cannot turn to its advantage."

  "But there are some things it doesn't know?" Jack said hopefully.

  "Some," conceded Mo, "and yet its knowledge is vast and there is little that has escaped its understanding…except perhaps the significance of true love.” There was a wistful look in the man’s eyes now. “But then, few can claim to know such things."

  Jack thought about this for a while and hesi
tated only briefly before asking another question. "Does love like that really exist?"

  The man did not answer at once. His eyes scanned the dark water and when he finally spoke, his voice was as gentle as the waves. "Some say that it exists in the heart, but it can only abide in the mind and in the soul. Many think that they love, yet it is no more than a fantasy or a dream. It does not last. Only when you have learned the truth about yourself, can you truly find love, because nothing can grow out of ignorance, nothing

  except fear, the killer of truth. True love is never shallow. It is broad! And it shall encompass the community of all living things."

  "But I don't really understand what love is, or goodness for that matter," Jack said, wanting so much to be given answers that would make sense to him. "I know that I'm not a good person…after all that I've done."

  "There is only one judge, and it is not you," responded his friend quickly. "True love is akin to sacrifice, and both are rare indeed. Once, long ago, one who was good walked the lands, one who offered love as a cure for sin. But only a few were willing to believe in what he promised, while the rest rejected the wisdom they had been given. Finally, the messenger gave up his life as an example and a lesson, for to sacrifice yourself for truth and justice, to give freely without desiring reward is the meaning of love. And faith is the spark that brings love alive. To care for all and not just a chosen few, that is true love. And from love such as this, goodness must surely come. That is what we must all strive for."

  Jack didn't know what to say. "It just sounds too hard. I could never be like that," he murmured finally.

  "Everyone must learn," Mo assured him. "Each and all. Everyone has been given the chance to find the truth for themselves. Hope, faith, love, they are all a part of the whole. We make choices every day of our lives, but it is up to us to choose what we know is right and not be tempted or deceived into walking with the Beast, although many, so many, have travelled that road."

  "If only I could be as wise as you are," Jack said, awed by his friend's passionate words.

  At this, Mo smiled but there was sorrow in his eyes. "Oh to be as true as your words," he remarked. "If only it were as simple as that."