The Magic Lands (3 page)

"They're asleep already," he
told Emily.

"They must have been tired
out," she said with a tenderness that reminded Ira just why he
loved his wife so dearly.

"Yes," agreed Ira, sitting down
beside her, "but they'll be fit and ready for a good day tomorrow."
He closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair. So much to be
done, he mused, so much to tell Tom and so little time. Jack was a
fine boy though, a good friend for Tom. He had known he would
be.

But now the time of trial was
almost upon them. The old man's mind crept back to earlier that
day, when he had felt as if something had been following them home.
He scowled, his face contorting violently but Emily didn’t notice,
her concentration set on her knitting. Glancing at her, Ira decided
that was just as well. Better for her not to know.

They would all do what they
must. After all, what choice did they really have.

Sunlight pierced the room like
an arrow through the heart of the house.

Jack opened his eyes and
yawned. "I'm hungry," he muttered.

Tom, who had been awake a short
while, just lying there and enjoying the fact that there was no
school for six whole weeks, laughed and sat up. He leaned over the
side of his bunk to peer down at Jack. "You're hungry!" he cried,
amazed. "After yesterday, you're hungry!"

"Well," answered Jack, almost
apologetically, "my appetite's come back now."

Tom grinned and got down from
the bed, stretching tender muscles. "Do you realise that we didn't
even undress last night?" He paraded himself fully clothed as
proof.

"I must really have been
tired," Jack allowed.

Tom opened a chest of drawers
and took out some clean clothes. "Let's change, then we can go down
and see if we can find you some breakfast."

Ira had put Jack's case in the
room the previous evening, but he still needed to unpack. He
hastily stuffed his belongings into several drawers Tom had
earmarked for him, setting aside some suitable items for the day.
Taking turns to use the small bathroom along the hallway, they were
washed and dressed in record time.

Today was going to be an
exploring day. They would scour the garden, crawling under every
bush, climbing every tree. Whatever there was to be found, Tom and
Jack intended to find it.

"Come on," Jack urged, tying
his boot-lace, "let's go and see about that breakfast!"

Tom followed the other boy
downstairs with a look of utter disbelief.

Aunt Emily, having forecast
Jack's recovery, had laid out an excellent breakfast for them
already.

They all soon found that Jack,
undeterred by last evening's experience, was more than equal to the
task. Tom was a little less enthusiastic and was happy to settle
for two slices of toast.

Uncle Ira watched with
interest. "Jack, either you are going to grow up big and strong or
you're just going to get very fat!"

Tom chuckled. "He's already
fat!"

Jack glared across the table,
but couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying the good-natured banter and
once breakfast was finished and the two boys had helped Emily with
the clearing up, it was at last time to go out into the garden and
explore. Uncle Ira stepped out with them into a fine warm day.

"Isn't it glorious," the old
man said, breathing in deeply.

The boys smiled and took in
their surroundings. In the perfect light of the day the huge garden
was a wonderful sight. It seemed to stretch out before them, an
inviting playground for any youngster with an adventurous
spirit.

"Now Tom," Ira said in a
serious tone, "I want you to stay in the garden. Don't venture
outside of it." He eyed them both carefully. "I know you're keen to
look into every nook and cranny but keep to the garden."

Tom nodded. He knew it was his
Uncle's golden rule. Always keep to the garden.

"We will," he promised
solemnly.

"Make sure that you do,"
rumbled Ira. "Stay safe," he finished. He looked at them both
steadily to make certain that they had really understood and then,
with a wave of his hand, "go on then." He was smiling as the boys
dashed off into the undergrowth, but once they were out of sight
his smile died. "Stay safe," he repeated softly.

The garden was full of winding
paths and tunnels through the shrubbery. It had a wonderfully
contrary combination of being well kept but still wild and
unpredictable. One moment they were down on their knees crawling
and the next, they were up and running furiously, shouting and
laughing. The different varieties of flowers that grew there defied
description. It seemed that Ira had planted and been able to
maintain a fantastic selection and Jack decided that Tom's Uncle
must be quite some gardener.

"What’s wrong speedy, can’t you
keep up!?" called back Tom as he raced off under a big willow tree,
its hanging branches swallowing him up.

Following close behind, Jack
pushed through the branches of the tree himself and looked around
quickly but Tom was gone.

"Where are you!?" he
shouted.

There was no answer. Only the
rustle of the trees moving in the breeze.

It must be some game he's
playing. Hide and seek, that's what it is. Well if Tom wants to
hide, I'll find him!

With this in mind, he stole off
through some bushes searching for Tom, who obviously believed he
would never be found just because it was his garden and Jack didn't
know his way around yet.

"We'll see about that," Jack
said aloud.

Tom couldn't find Jack
anywhere.

"Come on, stop hiding," he
grumbled to himself, wondering if maybe his friend had got lost.
After all, it was easy enough to do, even when you knew the garden
well.

He remembered a time when he
and his Uncle had gone out for a walk, he had been about six years
old and they had embarked on one of their regular games of hide and
seek. But whilst playing Tom had found himself in a part of the
garden he didn’t recognise, a place he was certain he had never
been before. A great tree, bigger than any he had ever seen, rose
up above a tall hedge that appeared to form the boundary of their
land, running both left and right for as far as he could see. He'd
supposed that this must be the end of the garden, although he had
never really known where it ended. It seemed to sprawl out
endlessly and sometimes Tom imagined that it just kept on growing,
always expanding in size.

The enormous tree was certainly
impressive and standing beneath it all those years before Tom had
felt strangely excited, as if at any moment some amazing thing
might happen.

I would
really like to climb this tree
, he had thought and
then as if compelled to do so
,
Tom had glanced upward and seen something very odd. A snake
hung coiled around a low branch, its ebony body glistening, a
forked tongue hissing very gently.

"Tom," the creature had spoken,
"I’m so glad you came. I’ve been waiting for you."

Tom had hardly been able to
breath, afraid to move. Even at that age, Tom knew full well that
animals couldn't talk. Maybe he was only dreaming.

"No dream this,” hissed the
snake as if reading his mind. “Why don’t you climb up, Tom," it
urged, its long body shuddering. "Climb up here and join me,
there’s room enough for two."

Without thinking, Tom had
gripped a low branch to begin his ascent when his Uncle's

voice had reached him, shouting
his name, telling him it was time to go back.

He had seriously considered
ignoring the call, thinking he would climb up anyway. But after a
long moment of indecision and with a real effort he had turned away
from the tree. He was angry with himself now that he should have
even thought of ignoring his Uncle, leaving the old man to worry
that something might have happened to him. Looking up into the tree
once more Tom saw that the snake was gone.

Imagination, just my
imagination.

There was no other explanation,
unless he was completely mad. Definitely imagination! He started
off in the direction of his Uncle's voice.

When Ira had at last come
across the boy he had seemed a little ill-tempered. "Didn't you
hear me calling?" he had asked, the words sharp.

"Er," began Tom, "I did, but I
couldn't find you." The lie tasted bitter in his mouth but he felt
very reluctant to discuss what had occurred beneath the giant oak,
fear and embarrassment uniting to create a mental barrier that he
was content to leave intact.

His Uncle fixed him with a keen
gaze. "Where were you?"

"I...," Tom muttered, fidgeting
uneasily, "I found a big tree at the end of the garden."

Tom recalled the way his Uncle
had frowned. "A great oak?" the man had questioned.

"Yes," he had replied, "by a
tall hedge."

Ira had nodded. "I know the
place," he murmured. Taking Tom's hand firmly in his, he had led
the boy away through a clump of leaning sycamores. "Let's go home
for supper."

Tom remembered it all so well,
the inexplicable event he had imagined by the gigantic tree
bothering him for quite some time after. But fortunately for his
sanity's sake, there were no similar episodes, so gradually with
the passing of time he was able to let the

incident recede into the back
of his mind, hidden away as an unwanted memory. Never once had he
found that place again since then, although a secret part of him
longed to return there, to climb that towering oak.

But now Jack was lost and Tom
had no idea where to look. "Jack!" he shouted at the top of his
voice, but the only reply he received was bird-song from one of the
trees above him.

Everything else in the garden
was still and for some reason Tom couldn't quite explain, he felt
just a little bit afraid.

Jack walked between two rows of
red and yellow tulips. Beds of flowers of many different kinds ran
side by side up a wide clearing flanked by tall elm trees. It was
like a tunnel, thought Jack, with the sky for a roof. He wandered
on, taking in the beauty of the place. The garden certainly was
big, far bigger than he had ever imagined.

An old pathway to his left
caught his eye, running between some bushes and although it was
overgrown and looked as if it hadn't been used in years, he decided
to see where it led. After all, he was there to explore.

Moving slowly, beating down
brambles and nettles with his feet as he went, Jack made his way
along the path. It meandered on for quite some distance beneath
lowering trees, berry bushes leaning in either side of him, but at
last he stooped to pass under a large hanging thicket and came out
into a clearing.

"Wow," he said aloud. Before
him was a great tree, its thick trunk and crown of spreading
branches casting him in shade.

Jack gazed up in awe at a giant
oak overlooking a long, high hedge. He had come to the end of the
garden.

THE LAW OF THE LAND

"I think I'd better go and look
for them," called Ira from the back door. He made quite sure that
Emily didn't see the worried frown that knotted his brow, deep
concern and perhaps even dread evident on his worn features.

"Don't be gone too long," Emily
answered, coming into the kitchen, "dinner will be ready in a
little while."

"Don't you worry," Ira said,
"I'll be back with the boys in a jiffy." But if his wife had seen
his face she would have doubted he believed it.

Jack stood beneath the
great oak.
Climb me
, it
seemed to whisper to him.
Climb up and see
what you can see.

He grabbed hold of a low
branch, his fingers tightening around it, the bark rough beneath
his skin and began his ascent.

After looking everywhere that
he could think of, Tom began to search deeper into the garden,
taking unfamiliar paths, desperation driving him on. And then as he
came out into a clearing, he experienced a profound sense of
deja-vu that stopped him dead in his tracks.

Before him, a high hedge
created an imposing boundary, running as far as he could see in
both directions. This part of the garden was bereft of flowers,
only shrubs and patches of dense ivy growing beside it and then
gazing upward he saw a great oak rising against the sky.

He stopped and looked at it,
memories suddenly filling his mind. A part of him was very afraid
to go any nearer, but something stronger than his fear urged him
forward. This place had haunted him through the years, despite his
efforts to deny it. Now that he had rediscovered it he wanted
answers.

But at what price, his mind
asked him in a hollow whisper. At what price?

Ira called Tom's name, then
Jack's, but there wasn't any answer.

He moved on, gaining speed as
he went. The further he ventured into the garden, the more certain
he became that something terrible was happening. And although Ira
had perhaps expected it, now that it was upon him he was determined
to resist it.

"Tom!" he yelled, "come
back!"

He broke into a run. He knew
where they would be.

Up the tree, on perhaps the
sixth or seventh bough, perched Jack, his hands clutching a thick
branch just above his head.

He was about to pull himself up
a little bit further when a sound from below caught his
attention.

"Jack!" cried Tom at the foot
of the oak.

Jack looked down and could
hardly believe how far it was to the ground. "T...Tom," he
murmured, his voice unwilling to come out of his mouth.

"Are you all right?" shouted up
his friend.

Gaining control of himself as
best he could, Jack called back that he was fine.

"I'm coming up," signalled Tom
and began to climb.