Charlie's Dream (13 page)

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Yes, its beautiful, just don't stop," she urged him, as she held onto his legs and pulled him hard into her. Marie had completely surrendered to the power that she felt within herself. It was like a piece of her had lain dormant for aeons, but was now awake and nothing could muffle it. It was quite a lot later that they lay giggling beneath a doona, sipping white wine and watching the moon track its way across the city skyline.

"This has been an amazing day and if you'd told me it would end up like this, I would have never thought it possible," said Peter, lying on his arm, looking at Marie.

"Since meeting Gemma, it is my opinion that anything can happen, but yes it has been amazing," she whispered, reaching out her hand to touch his face. He leaned forward so that they could kiss again and she rolled on top of him as he did so.

"BRRIINNG, BRRIINNG," went his mobile that was in his discarded jacket just beside them.

"Jesus, that thing is such a pain in the ass," said Peter rolling over in the direction of the phone.

"Well, just leave it," whispered Marie, attempting to pull him back towards her.

"I know. I would, but the last call was for you and I am kind of responsible to Gemma for looking after you, particularly at eleven at night," he said, as his hand searched inside his jacket on the ground next to him.

"Mm, I suppose so, but I don't want to talk to anyone," she said, finding the phone and pressing the on button. Peter just nodded,

"Hello, Peter here," he said somewhat sternly.

"Oh hello.yes, uhar, yes, yes, I'll get her immediately," he said, before passing Marie the phone with a clearly disturbed look on his face.

"Hello," said Marie with questioning in her tone.

"Marie, it's Gemma. Look I'm sorry to disturb your fun, but something terrible has happened," she said quietly but directly.

"Oh no, is it Charlie?" gasped Marie.

"No, its nothing to do with him, Marie. It's your Mum. She's been involved in a serious car accident coming home from the conference, and."

"What, where is she?" stammered Marie.

"Oh Marie, I don't know how I can tell you this, but she didn't make it to the hospital. She died in the ambulance before they could get her there. Oh God, I'm so sorry to tell you like this, but I didn't see that I had any other choice." There were a few moments of silence.

"Are you there, Marie? Are you okay?" said Gemma gently.

"Yes, yes I'm here, but I don't think I'm okay. I need to get home. I need to see Dad," she said faintly.

After breakfast, Charlie and Shamir went into the garden to continue the work they had started the day before. The dew lay heavily across the lawn and the air was moist and cold. Charlie shivered as he looked down across the slumbering magic of Shamir's garden. His boots felt damp as he put them on and for a moment he yearned to be back inside with the companionable warmth of the fire. A group of tiny songbirds fluttered around the area of grass at the front of the house. They skipped up quickly as their claws touched the cold grass and chirped to each other happily as they went. Shamir scattered the gathering with a light clap of his hands, only to have the entire ensemble reconvene their meeting on his shoulders. It didn't seem to bother him and he strode down the large stepping-stones that led towards the gate as though nothing unusual had happened.

There were quite a few trays of seedlings left to plant and Shamir was keen to get them all in the ground before the full moon that night.

"The ground-water is drawn to the surface with the approach of each full moon. This makes it the perfect time to plant young seedlings who can't reach their roots down very far into the ground," Shamir explained.

"Oh, I see," said Charlie, slipping his extremely wet gardening gloves on.

"Slimy gloves eh," said Shamir, seeing the look of disgust cross Charlie's face.

"Yup," replied Charlie.

"Nasty," laughed Shamir, handing Charlie a couple of spades, which he couldn't fit in the wheelbarrow. Gulliver bounded along beside them, happy to be out and about so early. As they neared the vegetable patch, they were joined by three young elves, Ayou, Mala and Lantor, who had come to get instructions on their morning's assignments from Shamir. They peeled off into the garden with only the smallest recognition of Charlie's existence coming from the elfin girl, Ayou, who flashed her eyes briefly in his direction as she left.

"I know I'm not the king of England or anything, but the elves all seem to be acting as though they're sick to death of having visitors here from the other side. They seem so disinterested in me, don't they like me?"

"Oh, don't think that Charlie, they're all fascinated by you, it's just that I asked them to keep their distance until you had settled in. After the incident on the first morning, we were concerned to let you choose your own pace of introduction, in case something happened to you," he said, with a broad smile that lit up his craggy old face.

"You mean if I'd died," said Charlie, as the door slammed shut behind him.

"Yes," answered Shamir, shivering slightly. "But you haven't, so if you wish, we can put Ayou and Lantor out of their misery. They've been dying to meet you and now their patience can be rewarded."

With that, Shamir glanced towards the elves who were working in the vegetable patch a little way off and before he could say anything, they had dropped their tools and were racing towards them. They hugged Charlie in a gentle way and then danced around him until he was dizzy from watching their smiling faces. All of a sudden, Ayou stopped the dance and took Charlie by both hands so that she could look at his face more closely. While she did, Charlie gazed freely upon her gentle features. She had the same eyes as Marie, that searched so deeply upon contact that any dishonesty had nowhere to hide.

"The news will be all over the forest in five minutes. You won't get any peace now," said Shamir, laughing.

"So now will I meet the whole tribe?"

"Yes, but before we go, I want to give you some clothes," said Shamir.

"Okay, sounds good to me," said Charlie.

When they arrived at the cottage, Shamir disappeared into a dark corner of the room, where numerous boxes and crates were crammed on top of each other in a large pile. After heaving and pushing a number of them aside, Shamir levered out a fairly small box that looked even older than its compatriots. On closer inspection, Charlie was amazed that it hadn't fallen to pieces with the jolting it had just received.

"My God, it's been more years than I could possibly remember since I put this outfit away," he said, blowing the dust off the top of the box. With that, he produced what looked like a silk tunic and matching pants, woven in the finest of fabrics imaginable, with innumerable shades of green making up one overall colour.

"This suit was given to me by my mother just before we fled from England. I wore it constantly, until I could no longer squeeze into it and yet it has remained as fresh in its appearance as the day I first put it on. It is made from the finest elfin silk, interwoven with threads of silver that give it incredible strength. Elfin armour is made from a heavier version of the same fabric. There was a day when I could never see myself taking it off. Anyway, I would like you to wear it now, if you'd like to," said Shamir, with the slightest tremble in his voice.

"I'd love that," replied Charlie, quietly.

Charlie loved the outfit immediately. He put it on and vowed to wear it as long as he was in the valley.

"Now, there is only one thing missing," said Shamir, leaping up from the bed. He rummaged around for a while in a long box that held an assortment of walking sticks, until finally he spun around with a thin, light-coloured wooden pole in his hand.

"Aha, this is the one I wanted," he exclaimed, swinging the stick expertly through his fingers and reacquainting himself with every intimate detail of its form.

"What's so special about it?" asked Charlie, in a bemused fashion.

"This walking stick is made from Hazelnut wood and it is the only one in my collection that has lived both here and in the outside world. I made it from an ancient tree that lived in the woodland near the village where I grew up in Southern France. She was an extraordinary tree called Orgarico and she shared many treasures from her wise heart with me at a time when I was very confused."

"You make it sound as though that stick is alive," said Charlie, somewhat disparagingly.

"My dear boy, a walking stick in the right hands is not just a trusted friend, but an instrument of great magic, which makes it very much alive," said Shamir, whirring the pole above his head with increasing speed.

"I have seen weather changed, people healed and warriors vanquished at the hands of such a stick," boomed Shamir, as a deep humming noise started coming from the pole, which spun like a propeller on the end of his outstretched fingers. Suddenly, he stopped twirling it and with one blinding movement of his arm, he grasped the pole in mid-flight and rammed it down to ground with a deafening crack. The room was filled with a bright flash of light that dispersed slowly up into the rafters. As it did so, the room was covered in a residue of rainbow-coloured light that hung like mist above their heads.

"Wow, what did you just do? " asked Charlie, gasping.

"I generated a small amount natural energy to show you its potential. If I had focused it in a particular place, I could have either brought you healing, or I could have killed you. So you see it's a potent force that needs to be deeply respected."

"I can see that, but is it safe to give it to me?" said Charlie.

"Ah yes, it's quite safe, it will remain just a walking stick in your hands, until I have shown you the technique to make it otherwise."

"Do you really think I could do that?"

"Well, you're here to learn how to become a wizard, aren't you?" he said, handing the pole to Charlie.

"Am I really, are you sure I've got what it takes? I just keep thinking that you've got the wrong person.

"Charlie, if I show you something, will you try to have more confidence in yourself and the power that brought you here?" retorted the wizard, sternly.

Shamir turned and headed for the front door, with Charlie following, somewhat hesitantly. Once outside, Shamir hopped onto the lawn where the songbirds had been playing earlier and turned to face Charlie with the stick held horizontally between his outstretched hands.

"Now, watch carefully," he said, as he began to spin the pole. He didn't pick up the speed as he had done in the house, but instead kept the stick moving at a regular pace. Gradually, he lowered his arms so that the pole was spinning very close to the ground, then with a great heave, he hurled it up into the air as far as he could. Charlie kept sight of the stick as it spun a good five metres into the air. Then, as he glanced back towards Shamir, he noticed that the wizard was not only ignoring the pole's flight, but that his eyes were firmly shut. He continued to watch Shamir as the pole hurtled back towards the ground, on a perfect collision course with the old man's head. Without opening his eyes, or disturbing his composure in any way, Shamir reached out his hand at exactly the right moment to catch the stick, moments before it smacked into his shiny skull.

"Whoa," said Charlie, as Shamir snapped his eyes open to view the retrieved stick.

"Want to have a go?" he asked simply.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe if you show me how," Charlie replied.

"That's the spirit," said Shamir lightly. "Now, to give you some confidence, we'll start with something slightly less daunting than the party trick I just showed you. Close your eyes and I'm going to throw you the pole. I won't throw it hard, so there's nothing really to fear, but what I want you to do is to not concentrate on trying to catch it. Do you remember what we did with the seedlings?"

"Yes," answered Charlie.

"Okay, I want you to focus your mind on your breath and release your thoughts as you do so."

"Okay, I'll try," said Charlie, confidently. With that, he closed his eyes and focused on the incoming breath as best he could. Within a few moments he was feeling quite relaxed and had momentarily forgotten about the walking stick. Suddenly, his arms stretched out in front of him and when he snapped open his eyes he was holding the pole a few inches from his face.

"That's it," screeched Shamir, "now tell me you're not the right person to be here," he chuckled. Charlie just stood in stunned silence for quite a while and then a strange feeling of calmness began to run through his body.

"We really can do much more than we imagine, can't we," he said quietly.

"Yes my friend, much more." With that, Charlie lowered his arms and clasped the walking stick lovingly in his hand.

"I feel like bloody Moses carrying this thing," said Charlie laughing.

"Now there's a boy who knew how to use a walking stick," replied Shamir, putting his arm around Charlie's shoulder and squeezing him lovingly. "Come on, there are some friends of mine who are dying to meet you and now I think you're definitely ready."

They left the confines of the garden and headed down towards the Great Fig. Shamir felt quite weak with emotion as he watched the young man striding along in front of him and he blessed the fact that he was no longer alone. Soon they neared the valley's meeting place and judging from the noise, the whole village was in attendance. Charlie couldn't believe his eyes as he stood at the base of the Great Fig, dressed in his new elfin clothes. The tree had at least two hundred elves sitting in its branches and they were all singing to him.

".Charlie, Charlie, you've come to share our world. We need you, we love you, welcome to our world."

As the song continued, an old elf flew down from one of the branches and offered him his hand in a gesture of friendship.

"I am Kanook," he said in a tender way, cradling Charlie's hands in his own. "I am the chief of the five tribes of the valley and I welcome you with an open heart."

Charlie bowed down in response, not really knowing what else to do. However, before he could worry anymore, the old elf bent down to whisper in his ear.

"Why don't you come and join us in the tree," he said quietly.

"I'd like to, but how can I get there without any wings?" asked Charlie.

"I'll help you," said Kanook.

With that, he glanced across to another elf who quickly jumped down beside them. Holding Charlie by both hands, the two elves flew off with a whoosh, up to the highest branches of the enormous fig tree. Charlie felt his stomach fly into his chest, but by the time they reached the top of the tree, his fear had been replaced by exhilaration. His head was spinning from the freshness of the breeze in his face and the sheer excitement of being so high. Elves of all ages danced and sang around him and although he was now some two hundred feet in the air, he felt quite comfortable. He stood for a while, holding Kanook's hand and watching the young elves launching themselves off the nearby branches.

"That's the young elves' favourite game," said Kanook, seeing Charlie's interest. "It's called the 'wind dance'. The elves stand with their faces in the breeze, with their eyes closed. Then, when a gust of wind comes, they allow it to whip them off their perch and to carry them as far as it wishes. When the gust lets them go and they begin to fall, they open their wings and fly back up to the top of the trees. With a strong gust, an elf can be carried as much as a few hundred metres, to use your expression of distance. The record is over one kilometre, held by my eldest son, Hanik."

"It looks amazing, if you were to hold me, do you think I could have a go?" he asked, with a cheeky look.

"Shamir said you were unusual. Of course you can have a go, if you're certain?"

"I am," said Charlie.

"Very well," said Kanook.

The elves went quiet as they saw what was happening, partly out of amazement at the young human's courage, but also because it had been many years since the old elf had indulged in such a game. Charlie stood in front of Kanook, secure in his gangly arms, which struggled slightly to cope with the height difference between elf and human. Suddenly, before he had any chance to change his mind, a huge gust came blasting up from the valley's entrance, shaking all of the trees in its path. Then, they were off, sailing backwards through the air.

"AWAY, AWAY, AWAY," shouted all the elves, as the two of them whizzed over the top of trees at an incredible speed. They flew for ages, or so it seemed to Charlie, as he watched the valley pass beneath him. The old elf held him confidently in his arms and his face rested right next to Charlie's with their cheeks touching. Charlie couldn't see Kanook's face, as it was too close to focus on but he could feel him smiling, as they both looked out over the valley beneath them. There was a moment when they were high enough to see the outside world beyond their home. Then as suddenly as it had come, the gust died down, Kanook opened his wings and the two of them drifted down through the canopy to the roar of appreciation from everyone present. Charlie couldn't wait to try it again and charged off with Ayou and Lantor to ride more gusts, as the conditions were now perfect. Once they had disappeared from view, Shamir and Kanook turned in the direction of Kanook's studio that was a small well-appointed room hidden quietly in an oak tree.