The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass (Binkles and Magic) (3 page)

 
Although he couldn’t think of a single good reason to trust the wrinkled stranger, Jeep ignored his grumbling doubts and stumbled onward.

The odd little man dodged around rocks and trees as though following a trail that was invisible to Jeep. Sometimes he’d vanish, only to reappear further ahead. Jeep strained to stay close, but it was tough going on his tender leg. He found it easier to watch the dog since at least it stayed solid.

The strangeness kept repeating itself. The occasional sound of “Kittens hendrini!” reminded Jeep that this weird person didn’t belong in the world he was used to. And that wasn’t the only clue.

Jeep whispered to the hitchhiking mouse. “Sit tight. I’ll get us out of here—somehow. Just don’t let him see you.” His brave, protective words made Jeep feel a tad bolder.

Although they didn’t cover all that much distance, Jeep’s leg hurt so much it seemed like a long way to him. Jeep couldn’t tell what direction they went since everything in the dim, overgrown woods looked the same. There was no way he’d be able to retrace his steps.

At one point, the little man stepped behind a large boulder. But when Jeep reached it, he froze. There was no one there! And the path had ended.
He disappeared—gone! Even though there’s no
place to go!
I’m lost again!

All the fears the boy had managed to thrust aside during his dark hours of suffering rushed in. Jeep sank to his knees—exhausted, discouraged, and weary to the bone.
No more! I can’t stand any more, I just can’t!

 At the point of Jeep giving up, the stranger’s voice called out, “This way,” In the same moment and without warning, his wrinkled face popped out of a hole which had been hidden in the rock’s shadow near his feet. The sight of the head without a body startled Jeep, making him titter with nervous relief. The bodiless head vanished again. And Jeep didn’t waste any time following.

Climbing down into the underground crevice was tricky and made his tender leg hurt worse.
Gosh!
Seems kinda like
falling down a rabbit hole.

Jeep found himself in a rock tunnel, which wasn’t dark for some reason. Once out of the biting wind Jeep felt warmer. He patted the mouse in his pocket and whispered, “See, not so chilly down here. Wanna bet we’ll run into a white rabbit?”

 The rock ceiling (which was plenty high for the man) was so low Jeep had to walk bent way over. Since the staff was too tall he dragged it along behind. Most of the way, the tunnel was so narrow he could run his fingers along both rock walls at the same time.

In the confined tunnel, the puzzling phrase, “Kittens hendrini!” echoed back to Jeep several more times. The reminder of the impossible cracking apart (then uncracking), on top of his fright and exhaustion, was just too absurd. Jeep fought the urge to giggle insanely.
I’ve clearly lost my mind.

As Jeep limped along in an awkward crouch, an idea arose that scared and excited him at the same time.
Maybe I’m having an adventure! Maybe it’s magic!
I’ve certainly wished that it could be real often enough.

Any free moment he could find, Jeep had his nose in a book. His favorites were daring adventures from olden days that involved heroes or magic—better yet, both. He believed such fantastic things could happen, even to him. So somewhere deep inside him, a mixture of hope and longing stirred—just a little, but it stirred, nonetheless.

Though he struggled to walk bent over, Jeep no longer feared he’d get lost. He just had to take the next step—taking all the time he needed.

After a while the tunnel leveled off. Jeep heard the strange stranger say, “I almost didn’t get back in time.” But he couldn’t hear the muffled reply. 

So he knew they had arrived. But where?

Chapter 3—

LIFE BENEATH THE OAK TREES

The strange stranger held aside a heavy woven tapestry, while he gestured impatiently for the boy to enter. Jeep paused, as a wave of apprehension washed over him. Hope warred with fear.
Danger or rescue? Could it be a trap I never get out of?

Hope won—giving the exhausted boy just enough courage to step over the threshold. That and his body’s longing.
At least I’ll get warm again—and fed
.

Jeep found himself in a cavern high enough for him to finally stand up straight. Stretching up to his normal tallness hurt, but it hurt good. He lightly stamped his feet and swiveled his shoulders around as he tried to unkink his back. By the time he swung his arms back and forth a few times he could feel his body settle into shape again.

His eyes couldn’t see anything except the fire from a fireplace. He could hear and smell the crackling of wood burning in the fireplace. He recognized other smells—kind of cinnamony with a hint of fresh flowers. Despite the dim light, he could tell the room was carved into solid rock. Yet hanging tapestries and a patchwork of rugs managed to add a warm, homey feeling that “softened” the rock. Together with the heavy wooden furniture and cabinets standing against the walls, the whole room could best be described as old and comfy.

Before Jeep had a chance to sort out more details, the man grabbed his arm and dragged him to a table overflowing with books and papers. His host used one arm to shove the stacks, and with the other he thrust the bewildered boy onto a rather low padded bench. Jeep wondered for the hundredth time,
What have I gotten myself into?

 “What¼?”

“Eat first, then we’ll talk.”

Another hand (though all Jeep saw was a yellow blur) set a full bowl of something and a spoon in front of him.
I don’t care what it is. I’ll eat anything that doesn’t bite back.

Jeep took a mouthful but didn’t recognize the taste. “What is this?”

“What would you like it to be?” the old man replied.

“Chocolate pudding is my favorite.”

“Then eat chocolate pudding.”

And that’s exactly what the next bite tasted like—creamy, chocolaty, and just sweet enough. Jeep ate until he could hold no more—though it took three full bowls. The strange little man sat across the table from him and idly stroked his beard. He never took his eye off Jeep while he watched the food disappear. Not a word was said, and his face gave no clue that betrayed what he was thinking.

As soon as Jeep finished eating, the man leaped up and dragged him without comment to a corner of the chamber. There was a basin filled with warm water and a primitive potty.

“Clean yourself. You’ll feel better.”

Once he was alone, Jeep let his mouse friend lap the gob of pudding he’d hidden in his hand. It sort of tickled. “Sit tight. I’ll protect you,” Jeep whispered. How he’d manage such a feat, if necessary, was wishful thinking—but just saying it gave his confidence a small boost.

By the time Jeep washed up his curiosity was working overtime.
Where in the world am I? And what does this guy want with me? I’ve got a lot of questions....

As Jeep limped toward the fire he got his first glimpse of a woman sitting near the old man on the sofa that faced the fireplace. The two of them had left a place for him in the middle.

The woman looked even older than the stranger, as if that were possible. Her face’s web of interwoven wrinkles reflected a long life span filled with challenges. She was knitting from a large ball of soft blue yarn. Seeing the needles flashing with the reflected light from the fire reminded Jeep of his mom. She knitted, too—used to, anyway.

The woman’s light-colored hair was braided, then looped round and round her head so many times it resembled a turban. She had a strange way of looking old and young at the same time. She, like her male companion, seemed to shimmer in the flickering firelight. Except for being tiny, as far as Jeep could tell everything about her seemed normal enough.
Though I’m not sure what normal is anymore—certainly not tonight.

“This must all seem strange to you,” she said, as if reading his mind. Her voice was as high and breathless as the chirping of a bird, “Don’t worry, you’re safe here. So is your mouse friend. Go ahead and let him run around. The cats won’t bother him.”

How did she know
? Jeep reached into his pocket and set the wiggling mouse on the floor. Once free of the protective pocket, the mouse scampered off and took no further notice of him.
So much for loyalty
.

The old woman’s dark dress looked as if wildflowers were embroidered all over it. With masses of blooms, it was the most colorful place in the room. Jeep was sure that he smelled flowers. Puzzled, he leaned forward and sniffed several times.

She noticed his curious sniffing and laughed. “You like flowers, do you? So do I. Sweet peas and bachelor buttons would suit you.”

The woman plucked several fresh, living blossoms off her skirt and handed them to him. Jeep inhaled their fragile perfume while he stroked the delicate blossoms with the tip of his index finger.
As far I can tell, they look and smell like real ones.

“They’re as real as I am,” she said.
Uh-ho, does that mean that neither of them is real? Or both are? It’s confusing—so hard to be sure
.

The little man interrupted his pondering as he handed Jeep a mug of steaming hot chocolate. The first sip—hot enough to push away all the sense of being nearly frozen to death. But the taste...
Wonderfuller!
(a phrase from mom)
I never tasted something with my whole body before. It tastes good even to my toes.
Jeep lost himself in the delight of sipping.

“Harrumph¼ Welcome, Laddie. My name is Grikkl. This is my wife, Adah. We’re gnomes.” His voice was so deep it rumbled, as though it echoed back from even deeper in the earth.

Jeep tensely clutched his cup with both hands as he sipped his cocoa.

“What should we be calling you?” Adah asked.

“Jeep Parker,” he answered timidly. “Actually, it’s Jasper, after my grandfather. Jasper Elliot Parker. J-E-P. Get it? But everybody calls me Jeep.”

“Tell us about yourself.”

He was too tongue-tied to answer. But if he had answered, it would have included some of these facts.

—Jasper Elliot Parker (Jeep)—11 years, three months old; weight, 91 pounds; height, four feet, ten inches; blue eyes; curly brown hair. Attends sixth grade at Lincoln Elementary School, in Truman City, Ohio. Earns above-average grades, and biology is his best subject. Is an only child whose father died four years ago. Lives with his stepfather (Chris Thompson), since his mother (Helen Thompson) is hospitalized. Has been an eager reader since he was seven. Hasn’t exhibited any obvious talents, although he likes to sing. His favorite possession is the marble collection inherited from his grandfather (who he’s named after). Can touch his tongue to the tip of his nose. Doesn’t play on any athletic teams, but is a reasonably good sport.—

That sums up the bare facts of Jeep’s life. But it didn’t describe the way the gnomes saw him.

He has endured great sadness for one so young. Still believes in the power of wishes and magic. Can move with the grace and speed of a leopard. Good at solving complicated riddles. Is starved for kindness and attention. Loves to daydream, especially about flying and heroic deeds. Doesn’t trust himself, and lets his fears blind him to everything else. Has yet to learn how he is special. Is already blessed with powerful abilities that he hasn’t yet discovered.

The two gnomes read the boy’s simple heart. So they felt what was good, and healthy, and hopeful about the lonely child who sat between them. The gnomes had the wisdom to trust the twist of fate that brought them together. But that doesn’t mean they could not see heart-breaking difficulties ahead for Jeep as well.

 “I’ve got some questions¼,” Jeep started to say.

“I’m sure you do—plenty of time for that later,” Adah replied as she patted his hand.

“I’ve got to get home, it’s really late.”

“All in good time, child, all in good time.”

“But I’m in trouble. I can’t stay here.”

“Not yet—you have time for more hot chocolate and a song.” Almost out of thin air, another cup of the steaming exquisiteness appeared for him. How could he refuse? Not possible. Since every cell of his body tingled with the delight of it.

“Relax for now and listen. I learned this melody from the mermaids long ago, when they taught me how to hear the music of the sea.” Her eyes grew dreamy and far away as she remembered back. “There aren’t many mermaids left, you know.”

The sounds that came from her lips resembled the movement of water more than a human voice. And the swish of the swishing waves more than an instrument. At first Jeep thought he couldn’t follow the words, but gradually he felt it weave its images into his mind, without words at all.

The splashing water sounds conjured up images of wind, and surf, and frothy foam. He recognized the sounds within the swishing water of fish swimming, each one leaving a bubbly trail through the swishing water. And he heard the crash of waves against the rocks, a ship’s engines passing overhead, and the calls of the ever-present gulls. And more and more oceanic sensations flooded his mind.

Even though he had visited the coast several times before, Jeep knew he was really “hearing” the sea for the first time. Not hearing as much as sensing. Sensing with every speck of his flesh involved. The water in his cells and blood echoing back and recognizing its source. He knew the sea, for it was within him and part of him. Not knowing how or why he knew—it was so obvious.

By the time Adah completed the song, Jeep was totally relaxed. And so, with almost no words spoken between them, Jeep sank into a deep peacefulness.     

“I see you’re ready to sleep,” Adah said. She arranged a cot for him near the warm fireplace. Then tucked him in.

~~~

He couldn’t stop his mind from replaying that horrible night the year before when his life unraveled.

A long scream jolted Jeep awake.
What’s wrong?
Another spine-chilling scream proved he wasn’t dreaming. Both his feet hit the cold floor even before his eyes opened. In the bedroom next to his, Jeep’s pajama-clad mother flailed about on the bed. She shrieked again.