Chapter 13
The Willow Wand
PETER LOOKED across the water. It was an unusually warm day for May, he mused—almost summery. The warmth of a summer day in the fresh air can make you feel quite lazy, he decided, stretching out on the grassy bank at the water's edge. Somewhere behind him bees buzzed in the clover. The breeze barely rippled the lake's surface.
He was sure he had never been there before. He looked at the ducks crowding expectantly near him—obviously used to being fed. However, he had nothing for them. How did I get here? he puzzled. And where am I anyway? Absently he dabbled his hand in the water. Drowsiness fled as he recalled the previous day's events and remembered the cool weather and the chill of being soaked through. He jerked upright, startling into flight the boldest ducks, which had come almost up to his dabbling hand.
He lifted his face and looked critically at the trees. Most were weeping willows still in the full foliage of early summer. Surely they should have turned by now? Had he lost time somewhere? Was he perhaps not even in New Zealand but over the other side of the world again?
He looked at the clover-strewn grass behind. It was much like the pasture on Bart's smallholding. His gaze strayed further afield. And surely that's the forest, he mused as his glance fell on a stretch of pines on the horizon. So I must be on Bart's property. How come it seems to be summer?
He stood up and reached for the nearest willow branch. Salix babylonica, he said to himself as his hand closed over the cool green leaves, and wondered how he knew the tree's botanical name. The answer came instantly: knowledge from the Book of Obsidian. The willow leaves tickled his face as he breathed in the smell of summer foliage. Carefully choosing the lightest green leaves, he broke off a small twig.
"Powerless while in winter's grip. Break off only the greenest tip,” he muttered.
He reached for two more twigs. The sound of a voice from the water made him jerk his head round. While he had been wrapped in contemplation of the willow trees someone had started rowing across the lake towards him. The boat held two people. When he realised who they were his blood ran cold. The Lord of Corruption rowing was robed in black and wore a hooded cloak. The other was in blue. Both had their hoods pulled well forward, shadowing their faces.
Had they seen him? Peter felt his mouth go dry, while his heart started racing in a way that was becoming too familiar. Should he hide? No—what good will that do? They must have seen him.
The boat had now reached the middle of the lake. Peter shaded his eyes against the glare then blinked as the clear air turned suddenly hazy. The bright light of summer faded, replaced by a mysterious half-light, and patches of mist drifted over the water. The sun, previously riding high, was now somewhere below the skyline. A faint flush lightened the horizon. Peter glanced behind. The pasture was heavy with dew. There was even a light scattering of frost. It's certainly cold enough, he thought with a shiver. It's obviously around sunrise. I must be shifting about in time, and I seem to have no control over it.
He looked up at the willow from which he had just broken the twig. The tree was a rich warm yellow. Some leaves had already fallen. Then he looked down at what he held in his hand. His heart jumped when he saw that the willow wand still bore leaves as fresh and green as they were when he'd broken the twig from the tree.
Peter turned his attention back to the boat. He saw the Blue Lord raise his arm and point. Peter fancied he heard the Lord's raspy voice but couldn't make out what he said. The Black Lord—who had to be Le Grud—started rowing in the direction pointed out by his colleague.
It's a change to see them without their foul black clouds. But what on earth are they up to? Whatever it is I can be sure it's evil so I must find out. The only way to do that seems to be to swim to the boat. How can I do that without being seen?
He bent and dipped his hand in the lake. The water that had been so warm moments before was icy cold. I'd never make it, he thought and looked around for some sort of boat. But there was nothing. However, the urge to find out what his enemies were up to had become stronger than his sense of self-preservation.
He took off his shoes and socks and left them on the bank. Allowing no time for second thoughts, he took a deep breath and entered the lake. He heard the splash of his dive and felt the icy water close over his body. It almost drove the breath from his lungs. Then everything went black....
...and Peter opened his eyes to find himself lying in bed with nothing covering him. Shivering violently, he groped on the carpet for the duvet. Dreyfus was about to make a nest in it.
Peter tugged at it. “Come on, Dreyfus, off you get! I'm cold."
Dreyfus, sensing his master's unreceptive mood, went straight back to his basket. Having wrapped himself up again, Peter lay thinking about his dream. He remembered the nightmare of a few days ago when he had, as now, woken to find the bedclothes on the floor. Merlin had dismissed it as unimportant. Peter was sure this dream was important.
He looked at the window. The first fingers of a cold misty dawn filtered through the crack where the curtains hadn't been properly closed. He leaned out of bed and lifted the curtain. Impatiently he swept the sleeve of his pajama jacket over the misty glass and peered out. It looked just the sort of day that had featured in the last half of his dream—a day that seemed much later in the year than May.
Where is that lake, I wonder? I'm sure it's on Bart's property, but I suppose it could be on an adjoining farm. Somehow I feel I've seen something that's about to happen this morning. After all, there's nothing to keep the Lords of Corruption from the land now.
Peter swung his feet onto the floor. As he stood up, something fell to the carpet. He bent to retrieve it. His heart seemed to stand still as he saw what it was—a green twig from a weeping willow.
With a growing sense of urgency he dressed and thrust the end of the willow twig into his trouser pocket before stealing from the house. Once out in the open he took to his heels. The air was chill with the bite of a light early frost. The sunrise when it came was going to be impressive, he reflected, glancing at the flush on the eastern horizon.
The red in the sky down by the lake was on my right and the forest was over there, he reasoned as he ran, so if I keep the dawn on the right now I stand a better chance of finding the lake. It was big enough and there were plenty of willows. They're a very distinctive tree....
His thoughts broke off as he spied a group of trees on the horizon ahead slightly to his left. With their drooping boughs, they had to be weeping willows. Unfortunately, they were still some distance ahead and his sense of urgency was getting stronger. He strove to lengthen his stride.
When he arrived at the willows he was breathing fast. But relief was strong in his heart. There was the lake. And he was in time. There was no one on the water.
Everything was just as he remembered it in the later part of his dream. He bent and dipped his fingers into the water. It was as icy as it had been in his dream. And again there was no boat. He'd have to swim out as he did in the dream.
He knelt on the dew-wet grass and took off his shoes and socks, and then his heavy knitted sweater, shivering as the cold bit into his flesh.
It was then he saw the boat. Only, unlike in his dream, it was still on the other side of the lake. Two shadowy figures, unidentifiable in the shifting strands of mist, were pushing it into the water. Remembering the loud splash his dive had made, Peter sat down on the bank. He fixed his gaze on a particular tree on the other side. If I can keep the top of that in sight, I should steer a reasonably straight course. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself against the expected cold, he lowered himself into the water.
Much to his surprise, the water seemed neither cold nor warm. But he wasted no time pondering this riddle. Using breast stroke like a frog moving towards its unsuspecting prey, he made for the middle of the lake, all the time fastening his gaze on the tree that he had chosen as a marker. He wasn't always able to see it. Sometimes it was obscured by the drifts of mist.
The rosy glow on the horizon had taken on a tinge of gold and spread itself above the lake, and the water now mirrored a changing palette of blue, silver, pink and gold. Determinedly ignoring the glory around him, Peter kept his gaze on the tree on the far bank.
Suddenly the boat itself loomed into his line of vision. He saw the Blue Lord raise his arm, and this time he heard the speaker's rasping words. Watching a replay from a new angle of a scene viewed so recently was uncanny—almost frightening.
"This is approximately the center of the lake,” the Blue Lord's voice grated. “It's very deep here. In fact, I don't think anyone realises just how deep this lake is. Sujad said if we toss it in here it'll be safe enough. The idiots wouldn't think to look on their own doorstep."
"It's a pity we can't destroy the wretched thing,” the Black Lord grumbled, and Peter recognized Le Grud's voice. “Sujad the Great did it once. I don't know why he can't do it again. But if he wants it in the center of this lake, that's where we'll put it."
"He'll probably destroy it when he's repaired the devastation caused by that detestable boy when he drained power from the Obsidian Dungeons” Hatred was strong in the Blue Lord's voice. “Sujad's castle has suffered extensive damage and he must channel all his efforts into its restoration.” Peter realised that the boat was towing something covered in a black tarpaulin. The Blue Lord whipped the cover off, but all Peter could see was another boat—some type of canoe. “Look at it will you. Have you ever seen anything so repulsive?"
Le Grud had now stopped rowing. He glanced carelessly at what the Blue Lord had uncovered. “Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't call it ugly just because it's evil.” He leaned out and unhooked the canoe from the boat. “Help me get rid of it will you?"
As the Lords of Corruption appeared too engrossed in what they were doing to notice Peter, he silently swam closer. Le Grud maneuvered the boat so that the two crafts bobbed side-by-side. He and the Blue Lord each took hold of the canoe and forced it to tip over. As the canoe tilted, Peter saw what it contained before it hit the water. Cold icicles seemed to tingle through him. It was the statue from the grotto in the City of Light.
Peter's bitten-off cry was masked by the noise made by the statue and the canoe as they sank. But he was still staring in horror as the Lords of Corruption fought to steady their rocking boat. Ducks swimming nearby took to the air.
"Are you sure they won't discover it?” The Blue Lord stared into the depths of the water.
"Quite sure. Sujad's spell will ensure no one will ever find it. When Merlin brought the Lord of Obsidian's son from the dark ages into that damned forest he opened up this land to all the enemies of the Earthlight. We can do what we like both on the land and in the forest."
The Blue Lord snorted. “The best thing would be to put a torch to it all."
Peter was now recovering from his shock. They'll see me in a minute. There's nowhere to hide. As quietly as possible, he dived.
"What was that?” said the Blue Lord sharply.
"Don't be so jumpy. We just disturbed those damned ducks. Look—they're all over the place. I suppose the shooting season's still on. They always seem to congregate in places like this during the shooting season."
He took up the oars again and started rowing back the way they had come. Slowly Peter rose again, breaking the surface away from areas of dabbling webbed feet. The Lord in Blue now had his back turned and Le Grud was too busy looking over his shoulder at the far bank to notice the head bobbing on the water. Peter stayed, treading water, until the robed figures had reached the other side. He watched them hide the boat among the reeds before walking off. The moment they were out of sight he struck out for his own shore.
He reached it, panting and spluttering, to find Jamie and John standing waiting for him. They each held out a hand to help him from the water.
"What are you two doing here?"
"We thought we heard something and we found your room empty,” Jamie said. “We went looking for Merlin and found him gone. His bed hadn't even been slept in. You weren't in the kitchen and Bart said you must have gone out because the back door was unlocked. When we came outside we saw a number of ducks take to the air so we ran to find out if it was you who disturbed them."
Peter shook his head. His face was grim as he put on his shoes and socks and grabbed his pullover. “It wasn't. It was two Lords of Corruption.” He started running back to the house. “If Bart's still having breakfast I'd like to talk to him."
Jamie and John wasted no more words but also broke into a run. On reaching the house they slowed to a walk and entered as quietly as they could. Bart and Susan were sitting at breakfast. Peter looked at Susan in dismay. I can hardly talk to Bart with her there.
While Susan stared at them in astonishment—especially at Peter, who was still wet and was beginning to realise how cold he was—Bart looked up from his breakfast calmly and said, “I'll be with you in a minute."
Peter looked at Susan apologetically. “I fell into the lake. I'm afraid we were larking around."
"You'd better have a hot shower and change into something dry right away, lad,” Susan said with a glance at her husband.
Peter turned to leave. “I won't be long.” He threw the words at Bart as he ran from the room. Larking around, he thought bitterly as he raced up the stairs to the bathroom. I wish we had been. It's awful having to lie to someone as nice as Susan.
Back at the table Susan eyed the twins, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"You must be cold too,” she said, trying to put them at their ease. “Sit yourselves down and I'll start the breakfast."
By the time the porridge was ready Peter had joined them. He and the twins attacked the food with hearty appetites. To Susan it must have seemed a quiet meal. Peter tried to look as preoccupied with his breakfast as Bart looked.
"What is it?” Bart's voice said sharply into his mind.
Keeping his eyes on his bowl and eating steadily, Peter explained as briefly as he could about his dream and what had happened at the lake.
"Right. When I leave as though to go to work I want you to follow me after about ten minutes. Make your way back to the lake. I'll meet you there."
Bart unhurriedly finished his breakfast, gave his wife his usual cheerful farewell and left. After ten minutes, during which they made small talk with Susan, Peter and the twins excused themselves and made their way back to the lake. Dreyfus, forced to stay in the kitchen with Susan, stared disconsolately after them.
Bart was waiting at the lake, crouched on the bank where Peter had sat a few hours before.
"Peter and I are going in again,” Bart said by way of greeting, addressing Jamie and John. “So that Susan won't ask questions about wet clothes I've brought along two wetsuits and some towels.” He picked up the smaller of the wetsuits and handed it to Peter. “It might not fit you properly. It belonged to me when I was about your age. It's been well looked after so it's in good condition."
Peter held out to Bart the willow twig that he had snapped from the tree in his dream. As Bart took it and gently stroked the green leaves, neither said anything. Bart silently handed it back.
Peter struggled into the wetsuit and strapped the pair of flippers around his feet. He thrust the willow twig into his belt and tied it firmly with some string from his trouser pocket. After giving Jamie and John a watery smile that was meant to convey confidence, he plunged into the water after Bart.
"I'll follow you. You know more or less where the fiends sank it,” Bart said as Peter's head broke the surface beside him.
Peter nodded and struck out for the lake's center. He discovered it wasn't as easy to pinpoint as he had thought.
"We'll have to dive,” Bart said grimly. “We'll need to breathe and I haven't got an aqualung with me, so you'll have to use your knowledge from the Book of Obsidian for both of us."
Peter nodded. With one swift kick he went down. Concentrating hard and remembering his dive in the original grotto in the C
ity of the Reborn, he strove to breathe naturally. When he felt comfortable he reached out to Bart with his mind.
"Okay, Young One. Well done,” Bart's voice replied in mind-speech.
Like a couple of fish they moved towards the bottom of the lake. Peter was surprised at the amount of fresh-water plant life. I suppose I didn't really know what to expect, he thought. “You've got trout!” he said in surprise as he caught sight of a retreating fish.
"Don't let everyone else know,” Bart replied with a chuckle. “This is private land and I don't want poachers, thank you."
They swam for some time before Peter spotted something among the plant life—the canoe used by the Lords of Corruption. It was leaning drunkenly against a large rocky outcrop. Therefore, Peter reasoned, the statue must be close. They circled the canoe but found nothing apart from crushed and broken plants. They even looked inside the canoe itself. It held only lake water.
Bart grabbed the canoe's side and peered around looking for a hidden crevice in which the statue might have fallen. Suddenly the canoe dislodged itself from the rocky outcrop. Bart's shoulder received a glancing blow as he dodged out of the way. The flimsy craft struck a jagged rock, tearing a small hole in its side. It was Peter who saw what the canoe had cunningly concealed: a great chasm in the middle of the rocky outcrop. Now it was uncovered it seemed impossible to believe they could have missed seeing it. His heart hammering with excitement, he swam towards it.
Just as he was about to enter the gap Bart called in sharp mind-speech, “Peter! Wait!"
Peter grasped the rocky edge of the chasm to stop himself going down into the darkness. “What's wrong?"
"It's too dark in there. I brought an underwater torch with me. Hang on while I switch it on.” After some seconds’ wait a dim light flickered in Peter's direction. Bart swam towards him. He thrust the beam of light down the hole. “Sorry, Peter, it looks pretty deep in there, and it's very dark. I think we should come back better equipped."
"How will we get the statue out anyway?” Peter looked at the jagged edge of the opening and a terrible thought struck him. “What if it's damaged?"
The Lord of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book 2] Page 15
