Magic Parcel (12 page)

His brother did not answer. His feet were immobile, his body swaying slightly, and his face pointing towards something unseen by Tommy.

“Jimmy, are you listening to me?” Tommy hissed. When he still did not answer, Tommy slowly turned his head towards what had caught Jimmy's gaze.

Por had disappeared, but in the gloom beneath the great umbrella of an ancient oak, not fifty paces from their position, they could make out a much deeper shadow. Distinct in outline and nature, the form of the Black Rider and his mighty steed could be picked out, standing motionless save for the occasional flick of a flowing tail, watching, waiting, listening. His great sightless head turned slowly from side to side as if to sense what he couldn't see, when, as suddenly as he had appeared, the Rider swung himself into the unseen saddle. The beast reared momentarily, pawing the air with huge prancing feet, and was gone, leaving its rumour amongst the lowermost branches of the surrounding trees.

“Cor!” sighed Jimmy. “Did you see what I saw?”

“Yes!” gasped his brother. “But he didn't see us. Did you see his face? No face!”

“I wonder where Por's got to,” muttered Jimmy, beginning to take the many strange happenings as commonplace. “He seems to have disappeared. When do we eat? I'm hungry. My stomach thinks eating's gone out of fashion.”

 

No sooner had the words tumbled out from his lips than a tinkling silver trumpet sounded somewhere off to their left by the same oak umbrella which sheltered the Black Rider. As the boys spun round wondering where the noise was coming from and what it signalled, a large green-clad man stepped out from underneath the oak tree and beckoned to them. Looking at each other and shrugging, they had no choice but to follow.

Once around the tree, they entered what could only be described as a room in the round with walls of living trees. Their boles were so close together, allowing hardly space enough for a squirrel or even a spider to pass between. At one end of the ‘living room', which was quite large by ordinary standards, was a huge table sawn from some enormous tree stump which had long since been felled by one of the frequent violent storms, natural or otherwise, which sweep the area. Upon this table was set a vast array of the choicest foods a boy could wish to fix his eyes on.

“Sit and eat as you will,” a deep voice boomed close by. They both jumped at the unexpected interruption. Por had returned, unseen, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

 

Much to their undoubted joy and satisfaction the meal seemed endless. When their stomachs finally felt as if they would sink through the floor, and they thought they would never need to eat again, ever, Por began to speak.

“We made a slight misinterpretation of the Rhyme of Doran earlier,” he began.

“Do you mean...?” Jimmy interrupted.

“That we won't get the parcel after all?” finished Tommy.

“No, indeed,” Por continued. “The Feast of Doran is not tomorrow as we first thought...”

“Oh no!” Tommy burst out in frustration, realising his mum would still be waiting for an explanation as to why he hadn't returned sooner.

“It's tonight!” Por went on.

“Oh heck!” Jimmy joined in, not really knowing why he had done so, other than to let everyone know that he was still there.

“Does that really matter?” Tommy asked again. “I mean, can't we do tonight what we would have done tomorrow?”

“There are two difficulties,” Por tried to explain. “One: for the Castle of Seth to appear in the appointed way there has to be no moon. As you see, we are into late afternoon with clear, cloudless skies. Two: we are some twenty leagues south of the usual sighting, with only three hours to the feast.”

“Can't we catch a bus...or...something?” Jimmy interrupted, realising at once how silly that question was. Feeling the same embarrassment he had experienced in Oompah's Castle, he thrust his hands even deeper into his pockets, shuffled about a bit, and generally wished he wasn't there.

The inevitable questions about ‘bus' did not come flooding to Jimmy's ears as one might have expected on hearing a word not before encountered. In fact, not only did Por
not
ask about Jimmy's mistake, he positively
ignored
the whole subject; a matter of great surprise.

“Our only way,” Por continued, oblivious to Jimmy's comments or embarrassment, “is on foot.”

Jimmy gulped that gulp of disbelief, which is often accompanied by a nervous laugh. He looked at Tommy for some sign that it wasn't so, but all he could do was shrug his shoulders and look again at Por, who by this time was watching them intently.

“OK, then,” the boys chorused steadily. “When do we start?”

“We have just done so,” the Chieftain of the Wandering People replied.

This puzzled the brothers, until Jimmy looked up, and his jaw began to creep slowly to meet his chest.

Jimmy's mouth opened and closed slowly in a reasonable impersonation of a goldfish in its bowl, not quite believing what he saw. He watched the trees and shrubbery they had been standing in, beginning to thin out quite considerably, moving past them in a constant stream, like the countryside slips by when you are on a bus or something, but more slowly.

Tommy thought he had seen all there was to see and met with all the surprises this world had to offer, so he was stunned by this latest magic. All Jimmy could do was watch in open-mouthed disbelief, and say “Coo!” like an absent-minded pigeon.

“But...but...!” stammered Tommy after a few moments incredulity. “It's moving! The wood's moving and...we're not!” There was a look of panic almost in his face as he rounded on Por.

“Do not be afraid,” reassured Por. “We travel thus at need. Not for nought is the forest so named. However, only in the forest is it possible. Once outside its eaves, we must adopt a more standard means of transport as our ‘magic', I think you call it, is proof only under our roof. This way we cover many leagues with the least delay.

“However, when our northernmost eaves reach us, we will still have several leagues left to go, across open country. It is there we will need all our craft and guile to bring us through. Even then, it is by no means certain Seth will oblige us with an appearance. Treachery is his art, and we should expect no less. He knows by now what is your mission, and he will try all at his disposal to stop you. The only thing he doesn't know is where your parcel is hidden. Should he take you...?”

The sudden silence left the boys in no doubt as to their fate or the fate of the whole universe, should Seth be successful in
his
quest.

The time passed reasonably quickly and even though there were many interesting and unusual things which caught their eyes, Jimmy became inevitably bored by it all, and began to shuffle. It
was
rather a long time for a little boy to stand, waiting without shuffling, and besides, he was beginning to get pins and needles in his left foot. By the time the numbness had crept halfway up his leg, his eyes were beginning to hurt from the constant streaming past.

Suddenly, without any warning at all, the journey stopped. It took several minutes for Jimmy's eyeballs to stop moving in sympathy, but stop they did, only to be assaulted by that red sun again. Behind them crouched the mysterious brooding presence of the forest, and before them, the river which flashed like a silver ribbon, curling around the forest to be lost behind its hazy shadow.

Across the river, stretching interminably towards an enormous outcrop of jagged rocks, lay a wide featureless plain, broken only by an occasional copse of weathered trees. Beyond the crags, only just on the limits of vision even in this clear rarefied air, was a tower, the like of which they had never seen before. Its very rumour struck fear and foreboding into the stoutest heart.

“Tom,” hissed Jimmy, “looks like we've got company.” He nodded towards the eaves of the wood they had just travelled with, where several very large beings, garbed in brown and green, were standing.

“I'd not seen them before,” Tom answered. “Have you seen their size? They must be at least seven feet tall! I wonder ...”

“They are the Guard,” Por's voice broke in. “Fearless, fierce in combat, and virtually invincible, we shall doubtless need them before the night is over. The prospect is good, I feel. Look! Cloud is building from the north and should blanket the heavens before nightfall.”

“What's that building?” Tommy asked. “I mean, the one over there on the horizon.”

Por's eyes narrowed and his mouth set into a hard line. A long, slow, soft hiss issued from his body as he filled his lungs, gathering himself to speak. There was a pause, full of expectancy and foreboding; a pause of reluctance and indecision.

“Many lives of men old,” he started, “its foundations were laid by the lore masters of old as a guardian to the northernmost reaches of this land. Before the walls had been raised evil forces overthrew the Wardens and it wasn't until much later, when the evil ones had raised it to its present pinnacle, that we realised Seth had long held designs on it. He secretly occupied it and fortified it through the sorrow of many Omnians. Its power is now lessened because it is under the powerful and watchful eye of the Guardian of Omni...”

“We've heard a lot about him,” Jimmy interrupted. “Who is he? Why can't he get rid of Seth and set everything to rights?”

“And why can't the world be made in a day and all the rivers flow uphill?” smiled Por. “Seth's power has grown great; great even by the standards of the ancient masters. The power in this land is founded upon the very bones of Omni and is more ancient than the world itself. It is enough - just. He is one whom we call Thenomni, Master of All, commonly known as Algan.”

“Algan!” burst out Tommy. “But, we've already met him. It was he who sent us. We've been into the Enchanted Cave.”

“Then fortunate you are indeed,” Por said with surprise. “Few have ever done so. There is more to you than meets the eye, I can see.”

“Is it much further now? Are we there yet?” Jimmy asked wearily. “My feet are tired.” He sank to the ground, exhausted, as the smoky dusk began to creep into the surrounding area and the shadows deepened under the eaves of the forest. They had travelled now some league and a half since leaving the forest, always with the River Lin on their right hand side, and always within sight and reach.

“We need go no further,” Por answered. “You are tired, I can see. We are here.”

 

 

 

The early evening passed slowly and uneasily, with a profound sense of disquiet falling over the whole area. Even the usually immovable Por seemed ill at ease as if waiting for some final blow of doom to fall. The only beings seemingly unmoved by the scene were the Guard, who stood in a semi-circle around their leader, three paces apart, motionless, save for the slight breeze movement of their shoulder-length hair.

All animal and bird activity and noise had long since ceased, as if they too were watching, waiting. Tired as he was, Jimmy had simply curled up where he had fallen and was now sleeping that deep, innocent sleep of the young, untroubled by the uncertain times and events he now found himself party to. What uncertain part he had to play in the final scene, if any, was as yet unclear to anyone there. All they knew was that the hammer was about to fall, perhaps to crush all under its evil blow.

“Jim! Jim!” hissed Tommy. “Wake up! Something's happening.”

“Umph,” Jimmy replied, jerking out of a pleasant fireside chat at his Uncle Reuben's. He could have sworn he
really was
in Omni, his uncle's tale had been so vivid. The reality suddenly dawned on him with that hard tussock of plains grass biting into his neck.

“What is it?” he yawned. “What's happening?”

“Look!” Tommy whispered. “The night is pitch, but the clouds are breaking, and can you feel that...that...silence?”

Jimmy's gaze drifted up to the ominous gathered storm clouds to see, in truth, that they were being shredded and dispersed by a stiff breeze. The river had also changed dramatically. From the placid, glinting, gentle ribbon, it had become a disturbed raging animal with foam-capped wavelets lapping angrily at the banks, threatening to pull them into the torrent.

The Guard stiffened visibly as Por forced out his words against the now-howling gale.

“The moment is at hand,” he gasped. “Seth's hour is nigh. If the clouds can hold but a moment or two longer it will all be finished.”

“Look! Look!” cried Tommy, battling against the wind to remain upright. “The clouds!”

All gazes shot upwards to see that the last vestiges of cloud had disappeared to reveal - no moon!

At that precise moment, the ground was shaken by an almighty quake, which knocked over all but the Guard. The forest trees were caught by a blast of wind so fierce that their outer guardians were uprooted and scattered like a handful of harvest chaff.