Ariel's Charm

by Marnie Lester

  ‘Normally travel between the realms is not permitted as … well … it creates a rift in the virtual membrane between the worlds. Ariel, do you understand these words?’

  Ariel nodded. Reynaldo continued.

  ‘It is only under very special circumstances that this travel between the realms is permitted. Your parents’ case was just such a circumstance. At the time that they transported here their lives were in danger. This was approximately a month before your birth. Unfortunately none of us realised that their lives would be lost in this world.’

  ‘Why were they in danger?’

  ‘I can’t answer that question just yet. However, I can tell you that you meant everything to your parents.’

  Unexpectedly, Ariel felt tears in her eyes. To this point in her life her parents had always been nameless, faceless people. Now, suddenly, they felt very real. Pausing she tried to collect her thoughts.

  ‘What were their names?’ she asked finally. ‘Mrs. Blackwell at the orphanage would never tell me.’

  ‘Your mother’s name was Volanda and your father was called Dariew. I know these are unusual names to you but in Walhalla there are many people with these or similar names. In fact, quite a few small children have been given these names in honor of your parents.’

  ‘Were they famous or something?’

  Reynaldo paused and smiled slightly as he tried to determine how to answer her question.

  ‘They were known by all of Walhalla if that is what you mean by famous.’

  Ariel suddenly remembered something.

  ‘At the park you told me that you had been looking for me. Why?’

  ‘Because Ariel it is time for you to return home.’

  Chapter 5

  Some time before, in a world far away, Largo strode down the hall towards his chambers. His boots rang on the stones, sparks flashing occasionally as the metal heels hit the flint. He tried to control his rising fury — that old man had finally done it!

  The palace attendant, who came running into the throne-room to raise the alarm that the Palladox Charm was missing, was white faced and shaking. He followed in Largo’s wake, almost running to keep up with Largo’s lengthy stride. A huge crash announced Largo’s arrival into his chambers. The heavy door reverberated on its hinges shaken by the force of the arm that threw it open. Largo stormed over to the cabinet where the chest holding the Palladox Charm had been kept. The cupboard door hung open on one hinge. Largo slammed his hand against it causing the cabinet door to fall onto the stone floor and shatter.

  ‘My Lord …’ the attendant began.

  He never got to finish his sentence. A hand shot out as fast as a striking snake and the man was lifted off the ground as the life was throttled out of him. Largo did not even take his gaze from the cabinet as he strangled the man who had merely brought him a message. The other attendants looked at each other in alarm. They had all known the attendant. He had given 40 seasons of loyal service to the royal household. His name was Robertho. He had been a devoted servant to Dariew and Volanda and had served Largo with unquestioning fealty. They also knew that Robertho had a wife and three children, just as they knew that he had died at the hands of a man who did not know his name. They had known for many seasons of Largo’s unpredictable temper but even they had not imagined a scene this shocking. Largo roared as he cast the body of the now dead attendant to the floor.

  Spinning around he stormed out of the room glancing at the frightened group that had gathered in a corner, he indicated over his shoulder and shouted:

  ‘Someone clean up that mess!’

  The attendants moved forward. Each digested the fact that Largo saw a loyal staff member as a “mess”. Silently they removed the body of their dead comrade; each man with his head bowed and a growing resentment of the man who clearly saw their lives as worthless.

  All of the palace staff had known that Largo could not touch the actual charm. There was only one other possibility. Only one other person could have stolen the charm. It must have been Reynaldo, King Dariew’s half-brother, a mingled sense of terror and hope flowed through the attendants. Could it be that the seasons of terror under Largo’s heel could be coming to an end?

  Largo felt blind fury. He had not spent so many seasons carefully building his web to have this old man get there ahead of him and dismantle his hard work. He had to find the child!

  ‘I must get there first!” Largo shouted suddenly, sending a passing scullery maid, running in fright.

  Killing Dariew and Volanda had been easy. Yet this act of regicide had not been as effective as he desired. The agent whom he had sent to watch them had told him that Reynaldo had advised Dariew and Volanda to use the charm and escape to earth. But she had been with child, hadn’t she? And no-one knew anything about the vermin seed did they?

  So, Largo had been forced to send a horde of agents swarming over the filthy globe trying to find the worthless brat. He could not have his throne put at risk by the rightful heir turning up now, could he?

  He went to work casting a net, a trap that was nearly watertight. It required that, from time to time, he had to visit the world to which Dariew and Volanda had escaped. It also meant that he was forced to leave Patrail in charge in Walhalla, a thought that made him nervous. The child had to be found however. This meant he had to try and determine possible locations in which the child could have lived.

  For ten seasons – five years earth time, Largo made himself known to juvenile facilities, children’s homes and shelters from one side of America to the other. He greased the palms of every corrupt official whom he could find. That was the easy part, all they had to do was bring him children of the right age group. Unfortunately he didn’t know if Volanda had birthed a girl or boy. So the various sheriffs, police officers and child protection services officers were all too happy to round up a multitude of homeless, parentless and pathetic young people and bring them to Brentonville. Largo thought that the morons were a little too enthusiastic about rounding up the children that fitted his profile. The problem was that none of the children was the right one. The correctional facility that he had taken over was bursting at the seams with boys and girls between the ages of eight and fifteen.

  Largo felt time was running short. If he could not find Dariew and Volanda’s brat, Reynaldo would. He did not want to think about the possibility that another could take his crown. Nor did he want to consider what his master would do to him if he allowed that to happen.

  Chapter 6

  Back in America, Ariel stared at Reynaldo in amazement. For thirteen years even though she hated the orphanage, it had been home to her. Now, the possibility of leaving this environment filled her with both fear and excitement. She thought back over the restlessness and anxiety that she had been feeling the last few weeks. Had some unknown instinct told her that something was about to change her life?

  ‘But how?’ she finally asked.

  ‘We will discuss that later,’ Reynaldo replied. ‘For the time being you need to adjust to the fact that you are no longer alone. You must also know that your parents died to save your life.’

  ‘I was told my folks died in an accident.’ She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Now you are telling me my parents died to save my life?’

  ‘There are some doubts that their deaths were accidental. When your parents left Walhalla, their only thought was to make sure you could be born safely, so that you may have a chance.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  Reynaldo gazed at her in silence. He wished there was a way to make this easier for her but time was short. Their world was under threat and it was very likely that Ariel was their only hope; although she did not know it yet. The long journey he had taken to find Ariel reminded him of the reasons he had begun this quest. Yet he did not want to scare this girl by bombarding her with too much strange information all at once. It was too important that she would want to return to Walhalla. Reynaldo knew that so much depended on her willingness to discover t
he truth about her background.

  ‘Ariel, I think that it is better if, for the moment, you understand that you are no longer alone in the world.’

  The possibility of finally having people to care about her brought a lump to Ariel’s throat. Swallowing hastily she sat trying to absorb all the information that Reynaldo had given her. Then glancing at the clock she knew she had to get back to the orphanage before she was missed.

  ‘I have to go,’ she murmured quietly.

  ‘Of course,’ Reynaldo replied as he watched her rise and walk to the door.

  ‘Ariel,’ he said, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Next time you come here you must know you will not return to the orphanage, therefore, you must be sure that you are ready to meet your destiny.’

  Thinking over this cryptic comment, Ariel left the small cottage.

  After crossing the street Ariel looked around for something to help her climb the orphanage wall. Like many city streets this one was littered with a selection of trash. Some items had found their way here by chance. Some were cast away by an uncaring hand. Spotting the perfect item, she dragged a milk crate to the playground wall and carefully peeped over the wall. She saw the children were still playing and that Mrs. Pendleton had not returned. She wondered how long she had actually been gone and how it was possible for her life to change so dramatically in such a short time. Levering herself over the wall and dropping to the ground she was not surprised to see Marco was waiting for her.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Did the old man really know your folks?’

  ‘Yes, I believe he did,’ was all that Ariel could say.

  Marco examined her troubled face and realised that she was not ready to talk about her meeting with the old man. At that moment, Mrs. Pendleton returned to the yard and ordered everyone inside.

  That night, lying in her hard narrow bed, Ariel again thought over everything Reynaldo had told her. She racked her brain for the thousandth time searching for a scrap of memory about her parents. Something that would tell her that what Reynaldo had said could possibly be true. The only shred of memory she had, one that had comforted her on many cold nights, was of a woman’s voice singing to her. The strangest part of the dream was that the song was in a strange language she did not understand. The words were lyrical and beautiful but Ariel had no idea where they came from. The area surrounding the orphanage had large numbers of immigrants. Ariel often heard conversations and arguments in a variety of tongues. Yet the song in her dream was utterly unlike anything she had previously heard.

  She occasionally had dreams that featured a smiling, beautiful dark-haired woman and she could hear a man’s hearty laughter. The idea that they came from a completely foreign world now consumed her. She tried to imagine what this place, Walhalla, was like. All around her the other children slept lost in their own dreams. Finally worn out Ariel rolled onto her side and fell asleep, still creating pictures in her mind of what Walhalla would look like.

  Over the next week Ariel wondered most about the final comment Reynaldo had made. Her rational mind told her that the world Reynaldo spoke of could not possibly be real. Yet she could not help a small bud of hope growing in her heart. What if it was true? What if she had the chance to change her life? Her own experiences had taught her that life could be both unexpected and cruel. The idea that people she had never met had somehow planned and controlled her future seemed incredible. What was this destiny of which Reynaldo had spoken? Over the thirteen years that Ariel had lived in Carrolltown, Illinois, she had seen such a small variety of people that the idea of a foreign world and foreign culture left her intimidated. Yet the possibility of learning more about her parents and her birthplace would be her dream come true.

  Now she faced the decision of potentially changing her life forever. Part of her wanted to grasp this opportunity with both hands and run with it. However a bigger part of her worried that she may be jumping from a bad environment to one which could be much worse. Reynaldo, telling her about her parents fleeing Walhalla made her wonder who or what was threatening them? She also knew that if she chose to follow Reynaldo that she may never see the one person she cared for again. While the prospect of never seeing Mrs. Blackwell again was vastly appealing, the prospect of losing Marco as a friend worried her immensely. The limitations of her life taught her that a good friend was not something to be thrown away but something to be valued and treasured. Although she had only known Marco for a few months, she knew that he was a friend. Ariel agonised over how to choose between her best friend and the potential of a whole new life.

  Chapter 7

  At last, the prospect of learning more about her parents and her origins pushed Ariel into choosing the opportunity that Reynaldo had offered. She knew that she would have to tell Marco everything to prepare him for her departure. Building her courage she asked Marco to meet her in one of the unused classrooms. Ariel vaguely remembered when she was roughly seven years old and a stern-faced teacher had taught her the alphabet in that very room. Mrs Blackwell decided not long after that education was wasted on orphans so the teacher was discharged. It had purely been Ariel’s desire to learn that had prompted her to teach herself to read. She remembered the endless hours of staring at the letters in the library’s small collection of books. She really didn’t know when or how the letters evolved into words. Ariel did not know she possessed a natural talent for language.

  Marco, sensing Ariel’s need to talk, agreed. Nervously, Ariel paced around the room while Marco sat quietly on the dusty teacher’s desk. Finally taking a deep breath she told him about her first meeting with Reynaldo. As the words came out of her mouth she realised how strange they sounded. The possibility of her parents and this kind man coming from a different world still seemed incredible. Marco calmly waited for Ariel to finish her story and then spoke.

  ‘Ariel, this does sound pretty incredible. Do you believe what this man told you?’

  A lengthy silence spun out between the two friends as they looked at each other. Marco’s green eyes were troubled, yet Ariel could see something underneath, something almost like hope.

  ‘I don’t know why but I do believe him,’ she finally responded. ‘I just have this feeling that he is telling me the truth. I don’t know how to explain it better than that. There is something about him that is somehow familiar to me. I still remember the first day that he arrived outside the cottage. He turned and looked in my direction as if he knew I was watching him. I do believe that he really has been looking for me and wants to take me home. I just know that this may be my one chance to know my parents and where I come from.’

  Suddenly aware that she had tears in her eyes, Ariel turned away for a moment. Marco was silent. Ariel had the impression that he was holding something back from her. He stared at her intently for a few moments as if about to say something then shook his head and smiled at her. Ariel wondered what he had been about to say then decided it could not have been anything bad; Marco had never given her a reason to distrust him.

  ‘Ariel, you always wanted to know your parents so I understand why you want to do this.’ For a moment his expression was unreadable. ‘It may be a real opportunity to learn who you are so you should go for it. I just want you to know that I’ll be thinking of you.’

  Impulsively Ariel hugged Marco. She wondered how she would cope without his steady, comforting presence in her life.

  ‘Marco, I will need your help to get out of here,’ she said after stepping back.

  ‘You know you can count on me, Ariel. We’ll figure something out.’

  Ariel could not help but feel a sense of regret. This may be the last time that she could really talk to this kind, clever boy. She looked at his wide green eyes, tousled blond hair and broad grin as though committing his face to memory.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  Two days later Ariel and Marco were in the group assigned to clean the entrance hall. The two stood side-by-side polishing the brass door handles.
Mrs. Blackwell supervised their activity. Her philosophy had always been that despite state funding, the children of Riverview must earn their keep. Therefore, cleaning, doing laundry, kitchen duty and removing trash were normal parts of the children’s days. Deep in thought, Ariel rubbed her cloth over the brass handle for what felt like the thousandth time. A part of her knew that if she had to continue living this life of drudgery she would become as bitter as Mrs. Blackwell. Suddenly, Marco’s hand brushed her arm causing her to look at him curiously. He winked at Ariel and then moved his foot to knock over the large, full trashcan standing in the corner. The resounding crash made everyone stop what they were doing and stare at Marco in mingled shock and fear. Mrs. Blackwell bore down on him like a guard dog complete with bared teeth and flared nostrils.

  ‘You clumsy boy. Look at this mess!’ she screamed seizing him by the sleeve of his ragged sweater.

  The children turned as the sound of ripping fabric startled them. They turned in horror seeing Mrs. Blackwell was angrier than they had ever seen her. This realisation made the children shrink back against the walls hoping Mrs. Blackwell would not notice them. The children learnt early and well that the less attention that they brought to themselves the better. They had seen other episodes where Mrs. Blackwell had turned her rage on whoever was close-by.

  ‘I think a little stay in the janitor closet will teach you to not be so clumsy. The rest of you clean this up!’ With this announcement she gave Marco a shove causing him to stumble to his knees, stunning the open-mouthed children.

  Mrs. Blackwell dragged Marco to his feet. Her strength always came as a surprise due to her petite stature. Mrs. Blackwell twisted a fist in his collar and began dragging him toward the janitor closet. He turned before disappearing through the hall door and looked at Ariel. She did not need prompting. As soon as Mrs. Blackwell disappeared from view she dropped her cleaning cloth and turned the large brass handle and slipped out of Riverview for the last time.