Beyond the Cherry Tree

by Joe O'Brien

  He faced the door and stood in silence for a moment.

  ‘Are we going in through that door?’ asked Josh.

  ‘Just a second. The door will decide when it is time,’ smiled Bortwig.

  As Bortwig spoke, the big round door began to slowly turn. When it reached full circle, Josh could see what looked like a shadow appear on the door.

  ‘It’s time, Master Bloom,’ said Bortwig.

  ‘What’s going on, Bortwig? Why doesn’t the door open, and what’s that shadow?’ asked Josh, glaring at the shadow, which seemed to mimic him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Master Bloom. The door will open. But not here, not yet. Soon!’ Bortwig smiled at Josh then pointed to the door. ‘Be brave, Master Bloom.’

  ‘Not again!’ sighed Josh. Why can’t there be ordinary doors?’

  Josh watched in anticipation as the shadow’s hand reached out. He took a deep breath, and then bravely stepped into the shadow. Darkness like no other surrounded him. He could still feel his hand being gripped.

  ‘Bortwig,’ he called. ‘Where are you?’

  There was no reply.

  Without warning, he felt his hand being pulled and before he could even scream for help he was flying through the darkness, freezing cold air rushing through his hair and whistling past his ears.

  Then he found his voice.

  ‘Aaaaaaagh!’ he screamed as he swooped down, then up again, twisting and turning.

  He felt like he was going to faint. Up ahead he could see a dim light.

  As he got closer and closer, the shadow tightened its grip on his hand, until suddenly, they were flying over a field. Josh could see figures up ahead, but he couldn’t make them out. It appeared that one was leaning over the other, with a dagger in its hands…

  Josh felt a rush of blood to his head, his eyes were blinded by the light; he came to a halt, then everything went calm.

  He could hear a faint whisper in his ear. Slowly, it got a little louder and a little louder again until he jumped up and stumbled against a wooden door. Josh lunged away from the door, almost knocking Bortwig off his feet.

  ‘Master Bloom,’ called Bortwig, holding a candle in his right hand.

  Josh shook all over and looked at the door in front of him.

  ‘Are you ready, Master Bloom?’ smiled Bortwig.

  ‘I’m not doing that again, Bortwig,’ he insisted. ‘What was that thing, that shadow, and where did it take me? I was in a field, Bortwig, and there were other people there too, two of them, I think.’

  ‘The black shadows are nasty spirits, but you travelled with a grey. It wouldn’t harm you,’ explained Bortwig. ‘It was a vision that you saw.’

  ‘A vision? But it felt real to me!’ cried Josh. ‘What was it for?’

  ‘The Great Tree has given you this vision, Master Bloom. For what purpose, I do not know. Maybe it is part of your destiny.’

  Josh was trembling.

  ‘After you,’ smiled the tree elf, pointing at the door.

  Josh looked at the door.

  At least this time it had a handle.

  He bravely reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door.

  Chapter 9

  Arc of Habilon

  A blinding ray of light shot straight into Josh’s eyes as he stepped forward. Holding both hands up to his eyes, he sucked in fresh air for the first time since stepping into the Great Tree. All fear left him and he felt as if he was breathing comfort, familiarity and courage into his whole body.

  Josh heard a loud slam and he turned around. Slowly his eyes found their focus as the blinding light dimmed. The door had closed and disappeared into the tree, leaving no trace.

  Bortwig was standing in front of him, smiling and clapping and doing the strange twitching of his head in joyous celebration.

  ‘Master Bloom! You’ve stepped beyond the cherry tree.’

  Josh turned away from Bortwig, his eyes feasting on this new world for the very first time.

  ‘Welcome to Habilon, Master Bloom,’ smiled Bortwig, ‘the land beyond the cherry tree.’

  Josh had never seen anything like this before. It was enchanting! Straight ahead were two tall stone columns that formed an arc. Great stone walls curved away from each side of the arc; on its left side rested an enormous sword held by a giant statue of a warrior, covered entirely in moss. This warrior was kneeling, but even so, he must have been ten feet tall. The warrior’s right hand rested on the grass below, his palm open.

  A row of similar warriors ran along both sides of the arc, standing upright and still against the walls with their swords by their sides. They curved around the lush grass on either side, leading back to two big stone tunnels where the trails disappeared inside, into great darkness, underground.

  Beyond the arc were vast forests, and beyond the forests, as far as the eye could see, were snow-capped mountains reaching up to touch the skies above.

  As Josh and Bortwig walked towards the arc, Josh leaned his head back and looked up at the giant statues.

  ‘What are they, Bortwig?’

  ‘They are the Zionn Army, Master Bloom,’ explained Bortwig.

  Josh stood in front of them, fascinated.

  ‘Why is that one kneeling?’

  Bortwig smiled. ‘He is Sorkrin, leader of the Zionn Army. He is kneeling before the Arc of Habilon, waiting for his king to call upon his help.’

  Bortwig pointed to the centre, where the two columns of the arc met.

  ‘Do you see that centre point, Master Bloom?’

  Josh nodded, his head stretching backward.

  ‘That, Master Bloom, is where the king places the orb. On doing this, with his wizard by his side, the king can summon the Zionn Army to waken.’

  ‘What’s the orb?’ asked Josh.

  ‘An object of great magic, Master Bloom,’ gasped Bortwig. ‘He who controls the orb commands Sorkrin and his mighty army.’

  Josh was now standing before the arc, right next to Sorkrin’s hand.

  ‘They’re giants!’ he gasped. ‘But how can statues be an army?’

  ‘The soldiers of the Zionn Army are made of stone. They stand motionless waiting for their king’s command.’

  Josh looked over to Bortwig who had just stepped beneath the arc.

  ‘Who is their king, Bortwig?’

  ‘Their king,’ said Bortwig, ‘is the king of all that is good. The King of Habilon. Be patient, Master Bloom, for you will stand before the king and know him, and he will know you.’

  ‘How?’ asked Josh.

  ‘Come along, Master Bloom,’ said Bortwig, ignoring the question, ‘I want to show you something.’

  Josh, too, stood beneath the arc.

  ‘Do you see that forest in the great distance?’ asked Bortwig, pointing straight ahead.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That is Feldorn Forest, the home of the tree elves. My true home.’

  Josh’s eyes lit up yet again, as they had done so many times on this adventure.

  ‘Are we going there, Bortwig?’

  ‘Yes, Master Bloom, we are! There will be cheering on our arrival and great festivities.’

  Josh could sense Bortwig’s excitement at the thought of returning home.

  ‘But what about the tree?’ he asked. ‘Do you not have to guard it? You said you were keeper of the tree.’

  Bortwig laughed, ‘I do not guard the tree, Master Bloom. The tree has great magic. I serve the tree and the tree does not want me to sit by my cosy fire-midgets while you seek your destiny.’

  Bortwig led Josh down great stone steps, away from the arc, and onto a carpet of wild, flowering meadow, which drew the eyes long into the horizon, all the way to Feldorn Forest.

  ‘I’m hungry, Bortwig,’ said Josh. ‘I’m looking forward to the festivities. Will it take us long to get there?’

  Bortwig shook his head.

  ‘Fear not for your belly. We will not be walking.’

  He knelt down in the carpet of white clover that hugged
the ground beneath the tall wild grasses.

  ‘Em, Bortwig, what are you doing?’ asked a bewildered Josh.

  Bortwig just waved his hand and pushed his ear into the clover.

  After a minute of nothing, he stood up.

  ‘Won’t be long now, Master Bloom,’ smiled Bortwig. ‘He’s coming.’

  ‘Who’s coming?’

  ‘Our transport.’

  Just as Josh was about to ask the inevitable question, he felt the ground shudder beneath his feet and he could see the grasses quaking in the distance. Josh stood back and stepped up on to the steps that led down from the arc.

  ‘No need to be afraid of Mirlo,’ laughed Bortwig. ‘He has smelled me in the distance and now he is coming to take me home.’

  As the rapid and vigorous flattening of the meadow flowers got closer, Josh strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of what strange thing might be approaching. Suddenly it was upon them and the grass no longer rustled and the ground no longer shuddered.

  ‘Your transport, Master Bloom,’ said Bortwig, pointing toward the creature, then leaning over and fondly stroking along its back.

  The creature snorted and burped and exhaled disgusting wind from its rear end in its excitement at seeing Bortwig. It was like Bortwig’s version of a pet dog, only Mirlo was no dog.

  Josh held his nose.

  ‘Uugh! What is it, Bortwig? It smells gross!’

  ‘He is smelly!’ laughed Bortwig. ‘But Mirlo is harmless and has a kind nature. He is a glykos.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A glykos,’ repeated Bortwig, climbing onto Mirlo’s back. ‘They’re underground creatures that burrow deep beneath the soil for rich and tasty smaller creatures.’

  Josh’s stomach was starting to churn.

  ‘They rarely come up to the surface,’ continued Bortwig. ‘But Mirlo is an exception. We’ve become great friends.’

  Mirlo shook excitedly, almost making Bortwig fall off, then he stretched out a long sticky tongue, reaching it over his head to lick Bortwig’s face.

  When the tree elf and the glykos were finished playing, Josh climbed onto Mirlo and sat behind Bortwig, reluctantly holding onto the wiggly tentacles that ran along both sides of Mirlo’s thick leathery back, just as Bortwig had done.

  ‘To Feldorn Forest!’ shouted Bortwig. ‘Take me home, Mirlo!’

  The creature’s tentacles tightened around Bortwig and Josh’s wrists and soon they were whooshed through the meadow. Flower seeds exploded past their heads as Mirlo dug his head beneath the ground and his two passengers screamed with joyous excitement at their exhilarating speed through the glykos’ tunnels, heading towards the outer regions of Feldorn Forest.

  Chapter 10

  The Witches of Zir

  Serula stroked her long, crooked, wrinkled, spiny fingers along the cat’s black fur. It purred with contentment and lifted its eyelids halfway, revealing deep, fiery, red eyes that reflected the crystal ball sitting on its pedestal in the middle of the room.

  ‘Orzena will be pleased on her return, my precious one,’ screeched the evil witch of Mount Zir.

  The cat paused in its purring. It growled in agreement, its fanged teeth stretching beyond its gaping mouth. The blazing fire in the corner danced and roared, then dipped and ceased momentarily before rising again. The cat lifted its head, then brushed away from Serula’s hand and leapt across the floor towards the cobweb that veiled the hole in the wall opposite the fire.

  Orzena was back!

  A chilling gust of wind cried around the corner and disappeared into the deep crevices of the walls as Orzena scurried into the room, raging and ranting and hissing curses over her left shoulder. She was older than her sister and much more haggard in appearance. She was hunched to the point of almost constantly looking at the floor as she moved around.

  But Orzena was neither slow nor ailing, and of the two evil sisters, she was by far the more ominous.

  ‘I should afflict a thousand plagues back upon that scourge, for its misery far exceeds its usefulness,’ complained Orzena as she pointed her hands towards the fire, drawing heat and energy and rage from its flames. Immediately, her eyes blackened and sank into their sockets, and the warts on her face enlarged and oozed poisonous puss that rolled down her face, scorching red tracks in her green skin.

  Serula stood up from her stool and cast a bolt of crackling dust from her right hand towards the fire.

  It exploded and smothered the flames, leaving nothing but ghastly, smelly fumes that circled, then evaporated.

  It wasn’t the first time that Serula had to break one of her sister’s spells.

  Orzena’s face returned to its normal hideous appearance. The evil witch slowly released the fury from her body and once again slumped into her hunch. She turned to Serula and fixed her eyes upon her.

  ‘Come, sister,’ instructed Serula. ‘Save your evil for a more worthy cause.’

  Then she pointed towards the crystal ball and its cloudiness cleared, to Orzena’s delight.

  ‘It can’t be!’ she hissed.

  ‘It is,’ smiled Serula, revealing disgusting, rotten, broken teeth covered in strings of vegetable matter. ‘It is the boy.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Orzena. Excitement was rushing through her body.

  ‘I’m sure. I’ve seen him and the tree elf walk through the arc.’

  Orzena clapped her hands. Bits of wart-covered skin flaked and fell upon her cloak.

  ‘We must kill him!’ she laughed, snorting and scrunching her nose up between her brows.

  ‘Yes! We must,’ agreed Serula. ‘And we must get word to Krudon.’

  ‘Yes! We must,’ agreed Orzena. ‘We must kill him. It is Krudon’s wish. He will be pleased, sister.’

  Serula nodded her head. ‘At last we will avenge our third sister.’

  Orzena’s face darkened again with fury and her eyes enlarged.

  ‘She will laugh from her grave, her shadow will rise up from the depths of darkness and dance in celebration when he is dead.’

  Then, once again, the fury left her. Serula scurried over to a dark corner of the room and reached out her hand.

  There was a screech.

  She pulled her hand back out of the darkness. She was holding a bat.

  ‘You will deliver the message to Krudon,’ she whispered in the bat’s ear, holding it fondly against her face.

  Then she held the bat in front of the crystal ball and pointed towards the image of the boy and the elf travelling on the back of a glykos towards Feldorn Forest. She placed her right hand upon the ball and began to work her magic.

  ‘Image, I see. Image, I feel. Image, I take.’ Suddenly, the image inside the crystal ball passed up into her hand.

  ‘Through your eyes you will reveal.’ She pointed her fingers at the bat and the image bolted through the air and pierced the eyes of the bat, where it remained to be seen by Krudon. Once again Serula held the bat to her face.

  ‘Fly swiftly. Take this message to Krudon’s castle.’

  She held out her hand and the bat swooped out of the room, darting around corners until it finally left the witches’ lair at the top of Mount Zir.

  ‘We will send the scourge and two more,’ insisted Orzena. ‘As useless as they are, they will do nasty work on the boy.’

  Serula looked over to the black cat. It was hissing and snarling and showing its fangs.

  ‘Yes, my precious one,’ smiled the witch. ‘Gather two more and wait for us at the eastern edge.’

  The cat raced out of the room.

  ‘I will call for the scourge and two more,’ said Orzena and she too left the room.

  Serula and Orzena stood on the eastern edge of their lair, near the top of Mount Zir.

  Snow blew hard against their faces and instantly melted on contact with their skin. They looked past Mount Erzkrin to the East and far beyond to Mount Valdosyr.

  ‘They’re here,’ said Serula. The two sisters turned round. Standing before them were three c
ats.

  Behind the cats were three goblins that Krudon had given to the witches as a gift. They were ‘the scourges’ – useless creatures, and a misery more than a gift. But Orzena knew better than to reject a gift from Krudon.

  ‘Come forward,’ instructed Serula.

  The three black cats stood in line before her with their heads bowed and froth falling from their mouths.

  She began her magic.

  ‘Black cats of Mount Zir, rise up and be strong.’ Serula’s eyes blackened and enlarged. She pointed her hands towards the cats and wriggled her fingers with great intent. ‘The gift of flight I give you, to quickly move along.’

  As she spoke the three cats grew bigger and bigger until they stood large and beastly, high above their mistress. The fur on their sides stretched and fell to the floor. Wings burst out and flapped, then stretched above their bodies, ready to take flight.

  Serula looked toward her sister for praise.

  ‘Excellent, sister,’ smiled Orzena.

  Orzena approached the three goblins.

  One goblin stepped forward to her.

  ‘There is a boy travelling with a tree elf. He is The One,’ the elder witch informed him. Her eyes again filled with fury, ‘KILL HIM!’ she screeched.

  The goblin nodded, then grunted to the other two. The three goblins climbed up on the cats, whose wings began to flap violently. Serula and Orzena stepped aside. The beasts of Mount Zir raced towards the snow-capped edge and took flight, heading south in search for the boy and the elf.

  The witches watched contentedly for a while before returning to the evil depths of their lair, pleased and eager for the fruits their witchery would bring.

  Chapter 11

  Feldorn Forest

  ‘Look, Bortwig!’ shouted Josh, pointing toward the evening sky. Mirlo slowed his thrashing pace as he approached the edge of the forest.

  Daylight was quickly receding behind the distant mountains. Darkness had almost come completely when suddenly Josh saw a flash of orange soar over their heads and vanish as if the sky had swallowed it.