‘I don’ unnerstand…,’ Gideon began, feeling rather confused.
‘Understand.’ The old man said, correcting Gideon’s speech, ‘you have much to learn before you do but you will though boy, when the time is right.’ He turned his head and seemed to focus on something far away.
Gideon opened his mouth to speak but the old man placed a hand on his shoulder forestalling him.
‘You must go back now, your grandmother is calling, we’ll meet again and soon,’ he said. Gideon opened his eyes to see his grandfather smiling at him.
‘You were miles away boy; you found the heart of the piece did yer?’ His grandfather asked. Gideon did not reply, he looked at the warm wooden figure lying between his hands and realised something was different about it. It still needed a face but the figure had changed, with one arm, it still held the book against its chest but the other now stretched out before it with the fist clenched. Gideon opened his own palm, a little surprised to find it empty, he smiled to himself.
‘Dreaming I think gramps,’ he replied putting the figure back quickly into the pocket of his jerkin and making a mental note to look at it again when he was alone.
‘Gideon dear,’ called Gideon’s grandmother for the second time, ‘tea’s ready, come an’ get it while it’s hot,’ she finished, as both Gideon and his grandfather went to answer at the same time,’ the two closed their mouths and grinned.
‘Gideon!’ His grandmother called again, the two Gideons’ looked at each other and grinned again finally laughing aloud.
‘Coming,’ they answered as one and still laughing loudly together, made their way back to the small parlour where they found Jed and Sonal tucking into a feast of tea and cake.
‘Go find Mayan fer me dear, an’ tell ‘er tea’s ready, she were exploring the garden,’ his grandmother said as both Gideons’ were about to sit down.
‘She means you boy, yer got younger bones,’ the older man chuckled as he patted his grandson on the back and eased himself onto a chair next to his son. Gideon smiled contentedly at his family and opening the parlour door stepped out into the sunshine.
Mayan was sitting on a garden bench fashioned from the same wood as the household furniture and Gideon sat down next to her feeling at peace for the first time in three days. The wooden figure in his pocket poked his ribs painfully as he sat, he moved it so it no longer stuck into him and he wondered whether to tell Mayan of the strange vision but before he could decide, she spoke, preventing him.
‘I can’t believe this is the first time yer visited ‘ere,’ she said as she snuggled into his embrace, ‘I’ve always loved this cottage so.’ Feeling content, Gideon decided against mentioning the old man and the strange things he had said, he was just happy to be here and alone with her. He closed his eyes and together they lapped up the remains of the sunlight, the sky grew red as the sun sank down over the trees and filled the woods with shade. Mayan shivered as the shadows lengthened quickly, engulfing her but leaving Gideon in a small but fast disappearing patch of sun.
‘Yer been so grumpy lately Gid,’ Mayan said referring to their journey up from Green Home; she watched her fiancé from beneath her lashes.
‘Not all the time May,’ he answered, ‘fer half o’ it I were sleepin’.’ He grinned and lightly punched Mayan on the arm; her infectious laughter joined his as she pretended to rub a painful wound.
‘I see, now not only abandoned whilst yer sleep but battered an’ all,’ she threw back as she jumped up and ran quickly to the house laughing as she went. Pushing the door open, she laughed and slammed it in Gideon’s face as he ran lightly behind her.
***
An evening of fun and laughter followed, eventually though the friends and family went to bed, Mayan to sleep alone in a small spare room and Gideon, to sleep on one of the warm cushion filled sofas in the living room directly below the room offered to Sonal and Gideon’s father. Their room had two of the most exquisitely carved single beds Sonal had ever seen.
‘These bedsteads are truly beautiful,’ Sonal offered, admiring the rich carving.
‘Nice and cosy, just the way yer like it lad,’ Gideon senior said to his son as he and his wife both carrying spare pillows entered the room two men were sharing. ‘Was s’posed ter be our room but we never ‘ad much cause ter use it as any noise travels straight down through the floor,’ Gideon senior added with a wink.
‘Gideon!’ Gideon’s grandmother called in horrified embarrassment, her face suddenly a deep scarlet; she threw her pillow at her husband and left the room as Gideon senior pretended indignation.
‘What woman..., I didn’t say owt!’ Gideon’s grandfather exclaimed as he smiled at his son and growled at his wife as he too left the room. Jed himself smiled wryly, too much information Da; he thought and grinned again as he heard his mother berating his father upstairs. He felt warm and comforted; his parents had finally become the parents he had always wanted them to be.
‘Goodnight.’
‘Night, ‘Journeys Grace’ keep yer….’
‘Journey keep yer,’ numerous voices across the little house called out as the company settled down to sleep.
‘Gideon seems a lot better now Jed.’ Sonal began quietly as he and Gideon’s father also settled for the night, he intended, against his own advice to ask about Gideon’s mother.
‘Yeah, he does that.’ Jed replied.
‘He’s a good looking lad; does he get his colouring from his mother?’ Sonal began again.
‘Yeah.’ Was all Jed offered, then, just as he began to drift off, Sonal spoke again.
‘Jed, just who was Gideon’s mother?’ This time, Jed said nothing but once again remembered the pale and beautiful blonde child who had died giving Gideon life. He had thought about her a lot over the last few days, he did not know why but thoughts of her had been with him as the small company had journeyed toward Branton and he had felt her as if she had truly travelled beside her son and calmed his own worries.
The wind began to howl and whine, whistling noisily through the rafters of the old cottage effectively stopping any kind of whispered conversation and for that Jed was grateful. He lay awake in the handcrafted single bed, he remembered the piece well, how he and his father had honed the wood and made it shine, revealing the beauty-hidden underneath the bark. His father had been extremely pleased with the finished product.
‘Dreams will always be pleasant in this bed coz of the love that’s gone in ter it,’ he had said. Time passed, Sonal said no more. Jed, assuming his friend had fallen asleep glanced through the still night air at his friend shrouded in darkness and shadows.
‘We all ‘ave our secrets me friend…,’ he whispered, sighing deeply as he closed his eyes once more and began re-living the awful night of the young girl’s death and Gideon’s birth. ‘What was it she said?’ Jed asked himself as a lump built up in his throat and his eyes began to burn. In his mind, he again saw her lying awkwardly in the wet and cold gully with blood dripping steadily out of her frail form and soaking deep into the ground as the wind howled and the rain beat down around them. She must have been in such pain, he thought, but she thought only of the baby. His memories changed and he saw his late wife with her glorious hair a burning mass of orange flame, she stood at the upstairs window of what had once been their home. …only of the baby, the thought came unbidden as again he watched her throw a small smoking bundle into Jack’s waiting arms before she turned and looked at him with eyes full of sorrow and pain. Jed swallowed hard trying to avert the threatening tears and for an instant, his memories merged. The young girl became his Mayan, still standing in the flame-filled room but this time she smiled at him as the flames played with her long blonde hair and ate up her body. In her arms, a baby chuckled happily; she kissed it on the forehead and wrapped it in a smouldering shawl. Reaching for the window the girl extended her arms and threw her precious bundle out into the cold night air, this time Jed himself caught the child, it was alive and had piercing blue eyes that s
miled up at him.
‘He still wants my baby, Jed,’ the girl said sadly, ‘and he can feel him, now, when he travels, please, save my baby…’ she added as the vision began to fade.
‘Who wants him girl?’ Jed whispered aloud, somehow knowing they were talking of Gideon. As the vision became faint he added, pleading, ‘who must I save him from?’ He was still pleading as the vision disappeared.
Sonal listened to his friend knowing something was occurring, having been around magic all of his life, he knew the signs. The temperature in the room had dropped sharply and his skin had been itching crazily. What’s happening…?’ He thought knowing Jed must have felt it too. As the itching faded and Jed asked his question aloud, Sonal sat up, twisted his fingers over the small white candle on the bedside table and he watched as it burst into life, the temperature lowered a little more. Jed turned to his friend suddenly awash with pale yellow candlelight as smoke from the candle curled slowly upwards to the low ceiling.
‘Well Jed,’ said Sonal quietly, well aware that the other members of the household were close by and sleeping. ‘I thought a little more cold wouldn’t hurt as you have frozen me bones rigid already,’ he smiled at his friend to take the sting out of the words. Jed lay in bed, his head back on the pillow.
‘Gideon ‘as never been away from the forest afore,’ he began. ‘Sommat ‘as always come up ter stop ‘im leavin’,’ he looked over at Sonal. ‘Gid…, Gid be special like,’ he said and carefully watched Sonal in the pale light to gauge his reaction.
Sonal remained silent, the silence seemed interminably long and it was absolute. He can probably hear my heart beating, Sonal thought as it thumped wildly in his chest. Still he said nothing leaving the silence as an open invitation for Jed to speak. Jed lay back and watched the flame on the candle as it began to dance. The candle flared brightly as Sonal mutely sent a warm, calming spell, full of love and compassion toward his friend.
At first as Jed began to speak, he talked of how happy he and his wife Mayan had been together. How they had longed for children and how as each tiny, perfect child had been born, it had also died shortly after taking its first breath, if it had breathed at all.
Sonal could hear the pain and heartbreak in his friend as he told of the children’s successive deaths. Suddenly the room temperature plummeted, Gideon, thought Sonal, as again his skin began to itch as if ants were crawling over his body. He wanted desperately to scratch but refused to move in case he interrupted Jed who seemed not to notice either the magic or the cold in the room. His breath became white plumes of vapour as he exhaled.
As Jed spoke of his late wife, their last child and the fire at his old home, a solitary tear slipped from his eye and lay glistening on his cheek in the candlelight. Sonal watched the tear sparkle and shine and remembered the cottage as he had first seen it, a burnt out husk with only a partial roof to give him shelter from the rain but how by the next morning it had been transformed, droplets of water were everywhere and they had glistened like diamonds in the early morning sunlight. He smiled at the memory as the candle flickered and the smoke began to waver, twisting and curling, spreading out in places and thickening in others. His mind returned to Jed with a snap and the breath swelled in his lungs as he tried desperately not to breathe too fast or too deeply, tried not to disturb the smoke drawing its fine and delicate pictures in the frigid air. Tendrils of smoke floated across the room toward the source of the magic, Gideon, who stood outside the door listening intently to the whispered conversation.
As Gideon had lain on the lumpy sofa downstairs something had disturbed him, something seemed wrong, his head was spinning and he had felt as if insects were crawling on his skin. Thinking it was the return of the headache that had plagued him for the last few days he had gone to see if his father had any more willow bark knowing he was awake from the muted sounds of conversation drifting down from above him. Quietly he climbed the stairs and watched as shadows danced and played under the bedroom door and he gently pushed it open. Sonal sat on his bed watching a candle flame dance and draw pictures and despite the burgeoning pain in his head, Gideon smiled to himself knowing how Sonal always liked to show off his tricks. Da be a captive audience, he mused wryly.
As his father’s words became audible, Gideon stopped and listened, he had never heard his father speak of those times before. Suddenly he was seeing pictures in the smoke, he was mesmerised, the words seemed to get louder and louder, vibrating around his skull, each word merging with the last, echo after echo. He thrust the heels of his hands into his ears trying to prevent the sound from penetrating his head any deeper as the whispered voices grew to a crescendo, reverberating around the room screaming. Finally the scream became so high pitched Gideon could no longer hear it, he sank back against the doorjamb and listened, as Jed told of his previous drunkenness, how the fire that had killed his wife and son on the night of the child’s birth had been entirely his own fault, how he believed he had killed them. Pain filled every word Jed whispered and sorrow as real as the candle flame itself filled the room. Gideon, with Sonal felt the pain and anguish of the man as they watched the smoke weave and play drawing lifelike pictures dancing to the spoken words. They saw Jed’s wife at the upstairs window and watched as the flames danced around her, Sonal gasped as she threw open the glass and tossed the baby out straight into the arms of a waiting man. Jack, Sonal thought, though Jed himself had never told him this was so. Jed was now speaking so faintly that Gideon and Sonal could hardly hear but the smoke played out the story faithfully. They saw Jed as he tied to kill himself and they watched as the wolf saved him, watched as the pictures showed him finally reconciling himself to a hermit’s life within the vastness of the Green Home Forest.
Jed was silent for a while as the smoke drifted once more back to a long plume of silver grey, a ribbon reaching out into the night. Gideon’s tears ran unashamedly down his face, his heart full of love and compassion for his father.
When Jed began to talk once more, his voice was louder but still full of sorrow though love and pride were audible too. He told of how the weather was wild and wet, how the trees were screaming in protest at the sheer velocity of the water raining down from the heavens. He talked of the cold, the damp and the restlessness of the animals in his care and again, the smoke drew the pictures in the air as if Jed were the conductor, directing each plume and fragment of smoke, some light and some heavy, each wisp having its piece to play in some heavenly composition.
As Sonal watched the smoky pictures, a steady stream of tears began falling from the corner of Jed’s eye leaving a sparkling silver trail where it ran down his face. Sonal closed his mind to the tears and concentrated on the pictures themselves, they told of Jed throwing open the door of his home and running out into the wet, wild night. Both Sonal and Gideon watched in silence as they saw branches hit Jed’s face causing scratches and scrapes, they saw Jed fall more than once as he continued his flight after Blue, his wolf. They watched as a low growing branch swept Jed’s hat off his head causing it to fall into the wet undergrowth only to be abandoned as Jed ran on without a backward glance. The pictures only slowed as Jed’s voice slowed, Sonal with Gideon could see in more detail now as Jed relived the sight of the young girl lying at the base of the gully and they watched as Jed tenderly gathered her into his arms.
‘I’ll stay with yer girl, you’ll not be alone…,’ Jed whispered to the smoky figure before him, the silent men watched as in the picture Jed cradled the girl to his chest and Sonal somehow knew Jed was thinking of his lost wife Mayan, dying all alone, scared and in such pain.
‘I’ll not let yer down again,’ they heard Jed say as the young girl spoke once more and took her last breath. They could see the tears rolling down Jed’s face just as he realised the child in her belly was still alive and they watched as Jed took his knife and there in the wet gully sliced the girl open and birthed the child, a boy. ‘By the Journey...’ Gideon! Sonal thought as he tried to calm his racing heart as ra
pidly the pictures moved on through Gideon’s life, each one showing Sonal how much Jed grew to love the boy and as the pictures slowed again and began to fade, Jed once more looked at his friend.
‘Was I wrong, should I ‘ave let the boy die?’ He asked. ‘I would die mesel’ ter protect ‘im from, from, whatever is out ter get ‘im,’ he stated and with such force, Sonal was in no doubt his gentle friend would kill for his son.
Gideon, still outside the door stood up, his mind in a whirl, slowly he crept downstairs and returned to the sofa with his headache forgotten, sitting quietly he stared out at the moon.
‘Who am I?’ He asked the huge silver disc. ‘Who am I?’ He whispered again as he lay down and closed his eyes visions of the white haired old man in the forest came to him.
‘This is who you are my boy,’ the man had said. ‘This is who you are.’
As the itching stopped and the flame returned to normal Sonal realised Gideon, unbeknownst to Jed had heard every word.
‘No my friend,’ Sonal replied quietly. ‘You were not wrong,’ he answered as the other members of the household turned in their sleep and settled once more, the strange dream that had affected them all, over, just as suddenly as it had begun.
Chapter 6
Tea
Gideon awoke still feeling tired; it had been early in the morning before a disturbed sleep had finally claimed him. Dragging himself from the sofa and out to the small wash room to freshen up he stared at the figure before him in the mirror.
‘I still be me,’ he said aloud to the tired and drawn looking reflection, wishing all he had heard and seen the previous night were a dream. Washing quickly he walked into the kitchen to find his grandmother sitting alone at the table her teapot and an extra cup close by.
The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One' Page 5
