The Third Age of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book Three]

by Laraine Ann Barker

  On the way home after leaving Jamie and John, Peter was about to pass the house where his Uncle Paul lived when an idea made him stop at the top of the drive. I expect Uncle Paul will be back at work. He'll need to be there to show Dad the ropes. I wonder if Aunt Angela is back from overseas yet?

  He turned into the drive and coasted slowly down. He stopped at the bottom and looked up at the house. Some windows were open, suggesting someone was home. But Peter knew his aunt tended to leave upstairs windows open even when she was out because stickers were prominent on the property warning of the intruder alarm.

  Slowly Peter wheeled his bicycle to the front door. As he stood wondering whether to knock, a voice floated to his ears from the open kitchen window. It made Peter's blood run cold.

  "Let's get out of here. You know it isn't safe to hang around this house. For a start that wretched boy—curse him!—is likely to come here at any time now he's living nearby.” Peter recognized the grating voice of the Lord in Blue. It didn't improve with the passing of time, he noted with grim satisfaction.

  "Well, there's nothing more we need here. Let's go to my place. There are no complications there and it's nice and handy.” The second voice was that of Le Grud and instant anger flooded through Peter that two of the Lords of Corruption should dare enter his uncle's house during his absence.

  Peter's mind raced. They'll soon sense my presence, he thought wildly. Instantly he threw up a spell to hide himself and his bike. It was a very temporary spell, but the two Lords of Corruption would most likely use their normal form of transport rather than the front door to leave the house.

  "Are you sure there aren't any complications?” the Blue Lord asked anxiously. “You lured him there once, remember—which was a damned stupid thing to do, I might add. You could have opened the way for the Earthlight to enter any time it fancies."

  Le Grud became instantly defensive. “He hadn't even started coming into his powers then. It was the very time it was safe to have him in the house. It isn't now. If you'd come into your powers sooner you might have been able to help me. I can't understand why you took so long."

  The Blue Lord turned huffy. “It was none of my choosing. The whole might of the Earthlight was set against me. Also, Merlin was coming into his own powers. There were other problems, too—problems that shouldn't have existed."

  "True,” Le Grud admitted grudgingly. “I envied you at first, but now I appreciate how awkward your position is. Anyway, let's make sure we've left no sign of our presence here and get out. The boy will probably be on his way home now and might decide to call on his aunt."

  The speaker sniggered. Peter couldn't work out what was so funny. But the Blue Lord seemed to find amusement in very strange things, he reflected. Then after a brief silence Peter was aware the two Lords had left. He remounted his bicycle and quietly rode down the side of the house to the back drive. A glance in the garage showed both his uncle's and his aunt's cars to be missing.

  He left the bicycle hidden in the bush at the bottom of the garden and started walking down the path. He had once taken this same route following a hovering green light but still had no recollection of it. All he remembered was suddenly finding himself in the clutches of Le Grud, powerless to free himself. But it's different now, he told himself grimly.

  He turned to his left and found himself between two straggly trees looking up at a tall, two-story Victorian villa set incongruously on a basement that made it appear even taller. Someone had made an attempt a while ago to cut the weeds and grass covering the back of the section, but the area was fast returning to its previous wilderness state. Even the trampled track through the weeds now looked overgrown. Obviously no one had used it for some time. Peter quickly made his way up it.

  He emerged onto a concrete drive in front of a door set into the basement. I do remember that. But I only remember coming out of it, not going in. He looked up at the blank, uncurtained windows. I wonder where the two Lords of Corruption are now?

  He jumped as he heard a door open and a clear, bright voice from the other side of the house. “Oh, there you are, Dad. I didn't think you'd be home yet. I've got somebody coming over after dinner whom you'll be interested in meeting."

  "I've got someone right here who wants to meet you—someone who's one of us,” Peter heard Le Grud's voice say.

  "Essence of Obsidian,” Peter said in mind-speech, “I need to see them without them being aware of me."

  Instantly Peter found himself surrounded by the power he had previously thought of as a crystal ball. He could see through it without being seen himself. He made his way up the drive to the front of the house. He turned the corner and looked up at Le Grud. The Lord of Corruption stood at the front door, no longer wearing his black robes but dressed in ordinary casual attire.

  Peter then turned his attention to the girl ascending the stairs. With surprise, he saw she wore the uniform of his new college. But when he looked at her face the world started spinning around him. For one dreadful moment he felt he was going to faint. He heard Le Grud introduce the girl. But only one word the man said reached his brain: the girl's name.

  For he was looking at the girl of his dream—the girl who had known who he was, claiming to be a friend of the twins. And her father had called her Eleanor.

  Chapter 3

  The Accident

  PETER ASCENDED the stairs to the veranda.

  "Be careful,” the Essence of Obsidian warned. “You might be sensed. There are three of them, so there's tremendous power in that room. The girl isn't just Le Grud's daughter; she's also a Lord of Corruption, although she doesn't yet have her father's powers."

  "I didn't even know he had a daughter. I thought he lived alone."

  "You were right. He did live alone. His daughter has been in America with her mother. If you listen you can hear the faint American accent she's picked up."

  By this time Peter stood on the veranda looking through one of the undraped windows. He saw a large room with polished floorboards and walls stripped ready for papering. It was furnished as a living room, containing several armchairs, a small table and an enormous display cabinet. To his untutored eyes they all looked like genuine Victorian pieces. The Blue Lord sat with his back to the windows. Peter saw only the profiles of Le Grud and his daughter.

  "Well, Eleanor, tell us what you think of the boy—this ‘Child of Earthlight.'” Peter recognized the Blue Lord's grating voice, laden with scorn.

  "Well, he's nothing special. He looks very ordinary, as a matter of fact. If you hadn't told me to watch him I'd never have picked him for the One. He has two friends, though—twins. They're more like what I was expecting and—"

  The Lord in Blue made a dismissive gesture of his right hand.

  "Well, go on!” the Blue Lord said impatiently as the girl stopped talking. “Tell us more about the boy. Forget his friends for the time being—though you'll need to keep an eye on them, too, because they're both involved with the Earthlight."

  "Well, he's smarter than I expected. From the way you and Dad talked about him I though he might be a bit thick. He did very well in most classes, especially considering it was his first day at a new college. Snotty little upstart!” She sniffed and tossed her ponytail disdainfully before continuing. “He and his friends all behaved pretty much like normal boys and none of them said anything unusual. I listened in on everything they said. It was really disappointing."

  "You don't think they suspect anything?” her father asked sharply.

  Eleanor bridled. “I'm quite sure. My skills might be no match for yours yet, but I'm not stupid."

  Le Grud flushed in anger at her tone. When he answered his voice was terse. “Well, you'd better hurry up and get yourself inside his home. He has the Obsidian Orb. Sujad wants it back. We need to get to it before him. If he gets hold of it and makes himself Lord of Obsidian again there'll be nothing for us—nothing at all, do you understand?” His last words came out with violent, harsh emphasis.

 
; "I don't know how you expect me to get an invitation to his home,” Eleanor said sullenly. “You've made it just about impossible for me to do that."

  "You've got brains, girl! Use them!"

  She tossed her head again and her ponytail swung wildly. “I need more than just brains.” Then her voice took on a whining quality. “I do wish you'd let me—"

  She stopped in mid-sentence as her father jerked his head in the direction of the window and gestured impatiently at her to be quiet. Peter saw and heard no more. The Power of Obsidian took him away so quickly his surroundings turned to a whirling black vortex. He found himself dumped by the side of his bicycle with an abruptness that made him stumble. He felt giddy and slightly sick.

  "I'm sorry, Peter. Are you all right?” The Essence of Obsidian sounded very concerned.

  "Yes,” Peter gasped, desperately fighting the nausea.

  "I really am sorry,” the Power of Obsidian repeated, “but if we'd stayed a moment longer we'd have been detected. As it is, Le Grud thought there was someone out on the veranda."

  "Thank you for your quick action. I wish I could react as quickly as that."

  "I was only doing what you wanted. I merely acted before you asked."

  Thoughtfully Peter wheeled the bicycle out of the bush and onto his Uncle Paul's property. He noticed with regret that both cars were still missing. At the top of the drive he put on his helmet, mounted his bicycle and rode straight home.

  She said she heard everything we said. I don't remember anyone hanging around us all the time, so she must have been using special powers—and I wasn't able to detect anything. Thank goodness we never mentioned the Earthlight. It's definitely not a subject to be discussed at school.

  Peter went to put his bike away and found several men putting up boundary fences. A large dog kennel stood waiting to be unpacked. But he had no chance to talk to the workmen. Dreyfus, abruptly aware of his young master's return, filled the air with frantic barking. Peter left the men to their work and hurried inside to greet the dog and start his homework.

  He had trouble concentrating, however, because Dreyfus seemed very restless. At first Peter thought it was just the presence of the workmen, but after they went his dog's restlessness grew. Peter wondered if the change of address had upset Dreyfus's routine too much. He put aside his homework and stood up.

  "Maybe you'd like a run."

  He left a note for his father, slipped the leash on Dreyfus's collar and went out, locked the door and placed the key in his pocket.

  "I'll take my bike and ride on the footpath. We'll go and see if Aunt Angela's back."

  In no time at all Peter was at the top of his aunt and uncle's drive. A quick mind-probe told him the house was still empty so he turned his bicycle, remounted and rode back home.

  As he turned the corner into the quiet street where he and his stepfather lived, Peter noticed a cyclist ahead. It was a girl and he noticed her simply because she wore the uniform of his college. Like Peter, she was riding on the footpath but going rather fast.

  He had taken Dreyfus inside, but had yet to put away his bike, when he heard a crash, so loud it had to be right outside the house. He rushed out, grabbed his bike and pedaled out onto the road. A car stood in the next drive, blocking the pavement. One wheel of a bicycle was caught underneath it. The girl whom Peter had seen cycling on the footpath was sprawled in the gutter. Peter arrived on the scene just as the motorist opened the car door. The girl struggled to a sitting position as Peter leaned his bike against the neighbor's fence. Her face, however, was turned away from him, facing the car.

  "You all right?” Peter said anxiously, getting to her before the shaken motorist.

  "No thanks to him!” the girl snapped, glaring at the man. “Why don't you look before coming out onto the road?"

  The motorist, looking almost as shaken as the girl, glared back at her. “If you must ride on the footpath why don't you ride slower? I didn't hit you! You hit me!"

  Peter ignored him.

  "Can you get up?” he asked the girl.

  "Yes. Just give me a minute."

  With hands that shook visibly, she undid the strap of her helmet and took it off. A frizzy mop of red hair emerged. It was only then Peter recognized her.

  "Oh! You're Justin's friend Norah!"

  Norah, however, was busy examining her injuries. Grazes on her knees and elbows bled profusely, but otherwise she appeared unharmed.

  "Look what you've done to my uniform!” she cried, glaring at the man and displaying grass stains on her skirt. She swung her head towards her bicycle. “Oh, no! Look at my bike! Dad will be furious. He's only just bought it for me."

  She let Peter help her to her feet. The motorist looked from Norah to Peter.

  "Did you see what happened?” he asked Peter. When Peter shook his head, he repeated defensively, “She was on the footpath and going far too fast.” He turned back to Norah. His attitude turned conciliatory. “Look, you're not badly hurt. If you'll come inside I'll fix up your injuries. And tell your father I'll pay for repairs to the bike. He can send the bill to me."

  "Okay, I'll tell him. But Peter's in my class at school. I'd rather his mother cleaned me up if you don't mind."

  The man had been busily writing something on a piece of paper. He handed it to Norah. “There's my name, address and telephone number. Tell your father to get in touch with me. I'm just going to pick up my wife. I'll be back in about half an hour and I'll take you and your bike home."

  He thrust the paper into Norah's hand, pulled the bicycle from underneath the car and climbed back into the driving seat. Norah slowly put the piece of paper in her pocket as she watched him drive away. She'd stopped shaking, Peter noticed. But was he imagining things or did she really look smug?

  As she and Peter wheeled their bicycles round to the back door, he stole a surreptitious look at her. The smug expression had gone, leaving her face with a peculiarly closed look. By now they were at the back door. Dreyfus had been barking for some time and his barks became louder.

  As Peter went to open the door, Norah spoke nervously. “I'm afraid of big dogs. Do you think you can keep him locked up somewhere while I'm here?"

  "Okay. I'll shut him in the kitchen." The noise Dreyfus is making, I'm not surprised she doesn't want to meet him, he thought.

  Initially he had trouble getting Dreyfus into the kitchen. The normally obedient dog made it plain he wanted to investigate the visitor. Then abruptly the animal seemed to change his mind and allowed Peter to shut him in the kitchen with barely a murmur.

  Peter's stepfather arrived while Peter was attending to Norah's hurts. Peter introduced them and briefly explained what had happened.

  "Quite a few kids get knocked off bikes like that. The roads these days are really too busy for them to use, but they're not supposed to ride on the footpath; it's actually against the rules of the road. If we had proper cycle ways, especially on the main roads, kids would be a lot safer and the problem wouldn't exist."

  Mr. Edwards went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea. Peter explained about Norah being afraid of large dogs, so his father left Dreyfus in the kitchen and brought the tea and some chocolate biscuits into the dining room. They all sat around the table drinking and munching until a knock at the door announced the arrival of the neighbor to pick up Norah and her bike and return them home.

  "Thanks for your help, Peter,” Norah said as the man bundled her bike into the back of his station wagon and settled her in the front passenger's seat. “Not many boys would have stayed around once they found I wasn't seriously hurt. Because I'm not pretty they don't want to know me."

  Peter flushed. He couldn't think of a suitable reply so merely waved briefly and turned to go back inside.

  "Well, she seems a nice enough girl,” Mr. Edwards remarked as he followed Peter down the drive.

  "I'm not interested in any girl—or anybody for that matter—who's scared of my dog.” Peter didn't try keeping the hint of scorn from his
voice.

  "Come now, that's not like you, Peter. Lots of people—even adults—are afraid of large dogs."

  Peter shrugged. “Sorry. I suppose she's all right."

  When they released Dreyfus from the kitchen he went around the house sniffing at wherever Norah had been, whining and growling.

  "See, even Dreyfus doesn't think much of her!"

  "That's simply because he can smell her fear. You should know that by now.” Mr. Edwards's voice still held mild reproof. Peter just looked at him in faint disbelief and made no reply.

  No more was said on the subject and Peter and his stepfather turned their attention to getting themselves a meal.

  "Oh, by the way, your Uncle Paul has found us a housekeeper—well, more a daily help really, except she'll be doing things our previous daily help didn't do,” Mr. Edwards said as he inexpertly peeled some potatoes. “Now I'm in business with your uncle I'll probably be working even longer hours than I did in Wellington, and I certainly can't expect you to do all the cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing and shopping, especially as your homework is getting more demanding."

  "I must admit I miss Mrs. Jackson. She was a bit of a nag, but at least she could cook."

  "Well, I think you'll like Sylvia Evans even more,” Mr. Edwards said quietly, digging out an eye and removing more potato than was necessary because he was watching Peter rather than what he was doing.

  He was rewarded by seeing the whole of Peter's face light up. “You mean—Jamie and John's mother?"

  His stepfather chuckled. “Do you know any other Sylvia Evans? As you know, she's widowed and hasn't found bringing up children on her own very easy. And the twins’ education is getting more expensive now they're at college. She'll come in every day and prepare our dinner, and she'll do shopping, washing and ironing on days when she's not cleaning. It'll probably take us a while to work out a routine that suits both us and the Evans family, but I'm sure we'll manage."