Until then, the boys would be alone, with no food or shelter. In the middle of winter, and with only a few hours of sunlight a day. They would probably - even dressed as warmly as they were - be dead of exposure within forty-eight hours. If the wolves didn’t find them first...
Before they left, Thomas had asked Orson if they wouldn’t be too late in anyway; after all - the explosion happened the day before, and the two boys would already have been alone for more than a day.
‘No,’ Orson’s bushy eyebrows knit together. ‘We will get there only an hour or two after the actual explosion. More important - we will still have an hour or two’s sunlight left; enough time to come back.’ He saw more questions in Thomas’ eyes and said, ‘I don’t know how it works, Thomas, but it has to do with Space-time and curves and time dilation; also the fact that we are six months ahead of the Earth in time. You’ll have to ask Big John for a proper explanation. He’s the physicist.’
Orson gave Thomas some instructions when they were getting ready to leave; Thomas was pulling on a heavy windbreaker over his already thickly layered clothes and underclothes.
‘One,’ he said. ‘Try to stay in just one colour at a time. When the colours change, flow with them - don’t fight them. Two - spread your arms when you fly. It helps stabilize your body; stops you from twirling and getting nauseous. Spreading your legs as well is even more effective.’ He paused, possessed of a vision. ‘It can be awkward though, even painful, if you land on a slippery surface...’ Cackled.
It was only the second time that Thomas rode the rainbow, and he stared entranced at the changing colours as they literally flew through them. Orson was keeping a careful eye on him - ascertaining that the boy stayed awake and that the first time was not just a fluke. He was wearing his black fur coat again, and its tail flapped and flopped in the rushing wind.
They landed not twenty metres from the two boys - Thomas hard, jarring his ankles and teeth. The whole surrounding landscape was covered in snow; the burnt-out smoking ruin of the cabin, an open black sore.
The boys were standing at its edge, their arms around each other. The youngest was quietly crying; his brother simply looked stunned. Their clothes, although they seemed warm, were baggy and old, obvious hand-me-downs. Both had taken off their woollen caps, and had the same curly brown hair. Their eyes were old, and they stared at the two Travellers with surprise, but not amazement. They were too weary and miserable for that. The bigger boy gripped a rifle almost as big as himself.
Orson walked towards them with slow careful steps, and Thomas followed a step behind. Their fur-lined boots went “krish-krish” in the snow, and their steaming breaths hung in the air for a long time. The older Traveller halted next to the brothers, and his small stature and kind eyes must have helped ease their concerns, for Thomas saw the older boy relax his grip on the rifle. Just having an adult present must have been a tremendous relief to the suddenly destitute pair. Orson stood looking at the blackened ruin for a long minute, making sure there could not possibly be any life left in it.
Then he asked, softly, kindly: ‘Marcus, Andrew?’ Both boys looked surprised, but again, not overly so. They remained silent and Orson repeated, ‘Are you Marcus and Andrew Tanner?’
The youngest turned his tear-streaked face into his older brothers patched jacket; but the eldest’ eyes searched Orson’s ugly face. What he saw there made him nod. ‘Yes, sir.’ he said. He leaned the rifle against his body and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes, repeated ‘Yes, sir. We are Mark and Andy. Mark and Andy Tanner.’
Orson nodded. Then looked at the cabins burnt-out remains once more; lifted his chin and asked, kindly, ‘Your father…he’s in there?’
‘Yes. Yes, sir,’ the older boy answered, nodding towards a corner of the destroyed cabin.
Orson lowered his chin and his gaze became a glare. And suddenly logs and parts of logs, and half a smouldering wall that was left standing; and bits and pieces of blackened furniture, and black and dented pots and pans, lifted off from where they were, and began flying about and then whirling in a circle, like a mini-tornado. It scattered ash to the four winds and over the two Travellers and their charges, and then came to rest in the corner Marcus had indicated, in an eight-foot high pile. The brothers seemed to wake from their stupor at last, and stood staring at Orson and the pile of rubble in turn, open-mouthed, stupefied. The rifle left the older boy’s hands as well; snapping in two before landing on top of the pile, and he simply stared, saying nothing at all.
‘Say good bye, Mark; Andy.’ Something in Orson’s soft voice said he understood and shared their hurt, and the two boys stood silently looking at the pile of rubble for another minute. Andy began crying again, with muted sobs.
Orson put an arm around his shoulders, and the boy kept looking back as the Traveller led him to a relatively smooth patch of snow. Thomas took the other boy’s arm and they followed. And then - as quick and easy as that - they stood in a tight cluster and Orson slammed the tip of his staff into the ground, twirled it. The crystal flashed and sparked, and the air cracked and crackled; and they - together with a six metre circle of snow and small rocks and wood chips, were sucked into the air.
They Travelled and the Tanner brothers slept.
*****
The Talking Rock was still warm from the sun’s heat although it had gone down more than an hour ago. The Traveller and the goddess sat swinging their feet, but only hers touched the water.
‘And?’ Ariana asked.
Orson nodded. ‘He’s a Traveller all right,’ he said.
‘Yes, but is he suitable?’
‘Of course he is,’ replied Orson. ‘He has the right blood in him, doesn’t he?’ His tone was haughty.
Ariana grinned at his presumptuousness. ‘Does Thomas know you’re his grandfather, Orson?’ she asked.
‘Rosie told him.’ In a gruff voice.
They sat in silence for a minute, and then Ariana reached over and squeezed the old man’s hand. ‘Is it all right then?’ she asked softly.
He nodded in the dark. ‘You can call a Gathering, Ariana,’ he said.
Part II
19
The night air was balmy and smelled of peat and plants and wood smoke. The clearing was round and thirty metres across. It lay between seven massively huge trees, some of their exposed roots two or three times as large around as a grown man’s trunk; between twenty and thirty metres high, their branches twined and twisted around and between each other’s - forming a huge, dense green and brown canopy. A large stone: circular and flat, and as shining-smooth as if machined, lay in its centre. It was a foot above ground and its circumference exactly seven point seven metres - very nearly two and a half in diameter. Close to its edge were seven small niches, the same size and half an inch deep - exactly a metre apart; in its middle a pedestal - part of the rock and just as smooth as the rest, but two feet high and wide.
Four of the seven fires set around the stone had been lit, and their flames cast shadows and light on the waiting crowd’s small faces. They were all - with the exception of Izzy, less than three feet tall, and apart from their muted conversation and the softly crackling flames, no other sound could be heard: no owls or crickets or frogs, nothing that scurries in the night.
Ariana entered the circle from between the two biggest trees. Both of their trunks were in excess of five metres wide, their heavy branches an arch high above her head.
She wore a flowing white gown with golden seams; the seven universal symbols were depicted on its front and back in the same fine thread; soft white slippers on her feet, and a circlet of gold - set with a sapphire matching her eyes - on her head. A slim chain of gold encompassed her waist, clinching the gown above her hips. She had an arm hooked through one of Thomas’, and she was smiling.
Thomas was simply dressed - blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt and sandals. He had done his best with his normally unruly hair, and he was pale; freckles showing in the flickering light.
Orso
n walked on his other side, marking his steps with his long staff; his other arm linked with Thomas’ and looking proud. He was wearing an indigo-blue robe embroidered with the same symbols as Ariana’s, but with gossamer-thin silver thread. His toenails were horny, his sandals Gucci.
Behind them came Joshi. He was softly singing and looking serene, and carrying a beautifully crafted shiny wooden box, in both his hands, like an offering. A silver chain hung around his neck, and at its end, a large silver key.
The small figures opened a passage and made not a sound, and then Thomas, Ariana and Orson stopped in front of the raised platform. The Traveller and the goddess smiled at the boy, and Thomas felt his legs tremble when they stepped onto the veined surface of the polished rock. He was led to the middle of the circle of rock, and made to sit on the raised pedestal, which strangely, was not hard or uncomfortable at all.
And then Thomas looked - really looked at the small crowd in front of him for the first time. Everybody except Izzy was small. There were dwarves, or rather, he corrected himself, small people. All of them adults; some quite old: mostly men, but also a few women, in total, a dozen or so. The variety of their clothes reminded him of a Fancy-dress party: mostly semi-formal evening wear, but also a Japanese Kimono, a Scottish Kilt, a tasselled leather outfit (Davy Crockett style), two or three beautiful evening gowns, and even two little men uncomfortable in Tuxedos.
To one side stood four or five others, smaller still, and more dwarfish in build; their bodies stockier, and their arms and legs shorter and thicker. Thomas thought he recognised the small person who had scurried away after painting his name on his bedroom door. Ariana and Big John called them “The Little People” - the workers of Rainbow’s End. His mouth fell open in astonishment when his eyes focused on two much, much smaller men, just seven or eight inches tall; dressed in bright yellow, pink and purples, and flying around on gossamer wings. Fairies.
Ariana and Orson stood to either side of Thomas, and when the young goddess lifted her arms in a gesture embracing everyone in the small crowd, the two flying sprites alighted on Joshi’s wooden box, and no other sound except her voice could be heard. It was clear and happy and she said, ‘Welcome my friends.’ The small crowd answered and she smiled, ‘Tonight we celebrate the ninety-second Gathering at Rainbow’s End. Also the thirty-third ceremony of “The Circle of Light”.’ She paused for effect and her eyes swept the faces staring up at hers.
‘One of you has been to them all.’ She looked at Joshi and the small hairy man, holding the box with the fairies on it, gave a grave nod.
‘Some of you, many…’ Her eyes found a wrinkled little man with a bald head and a large grey moustache. She acknowledged him by name: Chester, and he blushed and hugged himself with pleasure at being singled out, then tried to worm the tip of his old-fashioned shoe into the ground.
‘All is well at Rainbow’s End. I know…’ Ariana paused again. ‘…everything, remember?’ She laughed and the small crowd with her.
‘You all know what the ceremony means and how it works. You have all been through it.’ She focused on the group of small people. ‘All of you have experienced it,’ she said. ‘Tonight,’ she turned to Thomas, ‘I want all of you to welcome Thomas Ross as our guest. And later - as one of us. He has been tested and he is true. He is to be our thirty-third Traveller. Come meet him.’ Her hands beckoned and the small crowd lined up as if well-rehearsed. They had, after all, been through this before. A small set of steps were pushed against the platform and the procession started.
The “Little People” came first and they came as a group, painfully shy and mumbling their welcomes. They had elfin ears and their features were blunt, with snub noses and large eyes, mops of black hair and freckles. All dressed in loose white cotton shirts and pants. Ariana said, ‘This is Andrew, Rakel, Hans and Amali, Thomas. They represent Rainbow’s End’s “Little People”.’ She leaned forward and touched all of them in turn; a shoulder here, a hand there - a soft word for all. ‘We would be lost without them,’ she said, and they rushed off, blushing furiously.
Next came the two fairies - flying in off the box and each landing on one of Thomas’ shoulders. ‘This is Cyril and George,’ said Ariana. ‘They are here on behalf of Rainbow’s End’s fairies.’ The one called George scooted closer to Thomas’ ear; Cyril sat on his hands - innocently swinging his small purple-bootied feet and giving the boy a soulful gaze. ‘They are terribly naughty sometimes, the fairies,’ said Ariana. ‘Especially these two.’
George got up, and pulling on his earlobe, tilted Thomas’ head, then whispered something to him. The young Traveller-to-be blushed and goggled at the innocent looking sprite in disbelief; and then - giggling in tiny voices and punching each other’s shoulders - the two fairies flew off.
Last came the group of small ex-Travellers, or “Dwarves”, as they deprecatingly referred to themselves. In rank of seniority.
‘This is Chester,’ said Ariana. The wrinkly old man was dressed in an ancient velvet smoking jacket and he took Thomas’ right hand in both of his small ones. He stared into the boy’s eyes for a few long seconds, then murmured, ‘Welcome, young man.’
‘This is Henrí.’ The swarthy little man had a small moustache and curly black hair and spoke with a heavy, and (unlike Arnold’s), real French accent. ‘Welcome, Thomás,’ he said.
‘This is Kido,’ said Ariana. ‘Kido-san, meet Thomas Ross.’ The little Japanese man wore a beautiful cream-coloured silk Kimono and stood very straight, looking intently into Thomas’ green eyes for a minute - searching. ‘Welcome, Thomas-san,’ he said and bowed from his waist up.
‘This is Kristin.’ Ariana introduced the first woman. ‘She is from Iceland.’ The little figure had long ash-blonde hair and put her dainty hands on Thomas’ shoulders, pulling him towards her and kissing his cheek. ‘Welcome, Thomas,’ she said, in a voice like a small bell.
Vladimir (Vladi) was Russian and wore a coat that looked like a small bear. He had a wild beard and his welcome was a small bit of thunder.
Inez was Spanish and had a big little bosom, broad hips and thick grey and black braided hair. ‘Bienvenido, Thomás.’
Matthias was Belgian with a pointy moustache and a small van Dŷck beard - nondescript, but with lively, very intelligent eyes. He wore bow hunter’s clothes, and the large felt hat he swept into a deep bow, had a flashing peacock feather in its brim.
Erik and Olaf were from Sweden and Norway respectively but looked like identical twins. Theirs were the Tuxedo’s.
Raoul - like Inez - was from Spain and had a big nose. He wore gleaming boots and had a strange, sweet smell on his lounge suit (the stuff he smokes, Orson later informed Thomas).
Muriel was a Scottish woman with happy eyes and wore a kilt and a cloak.
Adam stepped up next. He was from Kentucky, he said, and wore the tasselled leather clothes. Shook Thomas’ hand with surprising strength, and said, ‘Welcome, son.’
Dhruv and his wife, Anjali, were from India; with dark eyes, and her - a tiny golden stud in her nose. Wearing beautifully embroidered Kurta and Sari, respectively.
Liam was Irish and had a Meerschaum pipe clamped between his teeth. He had little devils dancing in his eyes, and said, ‘I am very pleased to meet you, Thomas.’
The last was Gwendolynne, and nobody - including herself - knew where she had come from. She just woke up in the shade of one of Rainbow’s End’s thousands of trees one day. She held both of Thomas’ hands tightly in hers, her blue eyes searching in and behind his green ones for a long minute. Then closed hers tightly and gave a small shudder. ‘You are going to be very strong,’ she said in an awed whisper. ‘Terribly strong, Thomas… Use it right. Use it with care.’ Then - like Kristin - she pulled at his shoulders and softly kissed his cheek. ‘You are welcome, here,’ she said.
After Gwendolynne had stepped off the round platform there was quiet for a while, and then Ariana gave a small nod. In a ringing sing-song voice, Joshi said: ‘It is time.�
��
The Tuxedoed Olaf and Erik stepped forward and Joshi handed them the wooden box, which they held by its corners. The Magari used the large key around his neck to unlock it, and removed the lid, and Thomas saw the crystals for the first time. He was close enough to count five laying in a row, with two empty spaces between; all recessed into black velvet. They seemed identical, flashing dim and mysterious in the firelight. Joshi stepped around Olaf and handed the wooden cover to Liam, then turned back and moved slightly forward, leaving the box behind and to his right; facing the trio on the rock. Thomas was sitting with Orson and Ariana to his left and his right.
‘We honour Rainbow’s End,’ the Magari said, in a strong voice, and a small chorus of voices from the crowd repeated the words after him, ‘We honour Rainbow’s End.’
‘We honour Ariana,’ he said, and lowered his eyes before hers, bowing to the goddess. ‘You are our queen,’ he lauded, and a refrain followed from the crowd.
‘We honour our Traveller,’ he said, and Orson’s face went a plummy colour as the words were repeated.
‘We honour Thomas Ross,’ Thomas heard as if from a distance. He was watching the proceedings with awe, but felt not so “out of it”, when Ariana squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
And then Joshi turned back to the box, and reverently removed the first crystal from its velvet nest. He held it in both hands - between thumbs and forefingers and lifted it above his head.
‘We honour Earth,’ he said, and again the chorus followed. Then he took a few steps forward, and halting at its edge, lowered the plum-sized crystal, and fitted it into the first of the seven small niches carved into the surface of the round rock platform. The fire meant for it was one of those lit, and the light reflecting through the crystal cast a broad red beam over Thomas, Orson and Ariana.
Rainbow's End - Wizard Page 17
