The Magic Lands (33 page)

"What was that!?" he asked,
just able to make out the dim features of his companion in the
gloom.

"The cry of a dying beast
perhaps," Jinn said dryly. "It matters not to us. There are other
things for us to consider now."

"Where are we going?" demanded
Tom, still wary of this strange man.

"Into the heart," retorted
Elrin Jinn, "to where you'll be safe."

"The heart of what?" Tom
questioned, frustrated by the man's ambiguous remarks.

Jinn chuckled but did not
answer. "We should go now."

"Do I have a choice?" Tom said
fiercely and the man came close to him, his face inches from the
boys.

"Of course," he hissed
vehemently. "You can turn around and go back if you wish. The
redcoats will be pleased to see you!"

With a quick, irritated shake
of his head, Tom peered ahead into the darkness. "Let's get going,"
he said gruffly after a second or two and he thought that he saw
the man in green smile.

"Yes, let us do that. But be
warned," came Jinn's ominous whisper, "watch out for the
shrews."

"The shrews?" Tom repeated.

"They come and they go, this
way and that," the man went on evenly, "you never know when they
may come." And then he was off again, moving rapidly along the
winding

tunnel, deeper, deeper into the
earth and as they went the mysterious man known as Elrin Jinn began
to sing:

"Into the heart of the deep you
go,

into the kingdom that lies
below,

secrets and treasures are
waiting there,

for you to come and claim your
share,

with fortune travelling at your
side

and lady luck as your
bride,

take as much as you can
hold,

if you are daring, if you are
bold."

As he opened the door of the
room that housed the generator, he immediately knew that something
was very wrong. Fear rose like bile in his throat, aware on some
deep level that what awaited him within was deadly and quite
merciless. He was all alone with his own mortality.

The man moaned, a pathetic
sound that seemed to join another that he had until now ignored,
somehow oblivious to its wild humming.

The world swayed and broke into
a billion pieces before his eyes.

Just within the outer wall of
the grounds surrounding the house, the woman in white smiled with
pleasure and satisfaction as she watched the building explode, fire
and smoke licking madly at brick and wood. She had added a little
of her own magic to help things along and now she clapped her
hands, the sound lost amidst the noises of devastation and a
darkness quickly filled the sky as if a rain were coming, black and
thick with fury. And then, the delicate silk of her garments moved
by a sudden gust, debris from the house began to cascade down
around her, ripping into the earth, puncturing the pristine lawns
with a thousand wounds and all the while she stood and watched,
even though brick and metal, timber and glass fell all about her.
Not one fragment so much as brushed the woman and she laughed and
applauded like a young child.

When finally it was over, the
once great house in flames, she walked across a long garden where
shortly before there had been row upon row of red roses, but now
there was only carnage, petals scattered amongst the wreckage. And
even though the sky had become dark, wherever she walked the land
shone brightly, each remnant of the house beginning to glow as she
passed by, so that every step that she took illuminated the way for
the next, leaving a trail of light across a sea of destruction.

"What was that?" said Jack,
flinching at what sounded like a tremendous explosion somewhere
behind them, a look of terror and apprehension passing over his
face.

"Don’t worry, Jack," soothed
the badger. "It does not concern us now."

Jack shook his head, his
thoughts jumbled, memories entangled with dreams, truth impossible
to distinguish from what he knew must be fantasies flitting wildly
through his mind. He could no longer be sure of anything. "I don't
know what's happening to me," he said, his voice and spirit weak.
He felt lost, without hope, his faith in the things he had always
believed in crumbling into meaningless fragments.

Moving closer to the boy, Mo
looked up at Jack's wan features. "Let us be content for the moment
with just putting distance between ourselves and those who hunt
us."

Jack nodded in agreement, but
his heart was heavy with a burden he could not identify and he
found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the problems at
hand. The thunderous sound had touched something deep inside him,
as if it were a part of himself that had cried out so terribly.
Somewhere within him too, a voice was speaking, desperate to be
heard, to be recalled, but Jack would not let it surface, his own
determination to suppress this inner call frightening him.

What happened to me in the
house?

But now they were moving again,
off through the dense undergrowth, pursued by the servants of the
enemy, hunted like beasts. Yet what difference was there really
between any creature when it came to the fundamentals of life and
death? He was only one more animal. A badger, a wolf, a man. All
were beasts in their own way.

If Mankind are so superior, why
do they corrupt and destroy? Why do they kill for fun?

It seemed to Jack, that if
there was a difference between Man and other animals, it was in
their motivation, why they did what they did. Surely it was not a
Man's instinct to be cruel. Only a man would profess to be good and
yet do evil things. Only a man can use reason to make a choice and
still decide to sin.

Sin. It was a word he hardly
understood. And yet it held great power.

He recalled his history lessons
at school, so distant now. They had been told of the Third Reich,
the Nazi regime in Germany and how they had systematically hunted
down and exterminated millions of Jews and other 'undesirables',
anyone whose blood might pollute the so-called master race. But was
this a fair example of humankind? Murderers without

remorse, using perverted logic
to justify their actions, their madness fuelled by insane prejudice
and a destructive lust for power?

What of the ordinary man? Was
he a great sinner? It was true that so often he only stood by and
watched as these crimes were happening, never lifting a hand
against the hate and slaughter, never trying to stop it. But on a
basic level, was an average man more likely to be good or evil?

There were reasons for
every crime, there were
always
reasons, but Jack was just a boy and it didn't make much
sense to him. Where was his place in all of this? The atrocities of
the Nazis were only one small example of a trend set throughout the
ages, since the beginning of mankind's bloody dominion on the
earth.

Sin. What was it really?
Human nature, some might say. But if it was the nature of the Beast
to sin, did that mean there was nothing to choose between them.
Jack would not believe that. There
was
a difference. And it had to be motive. It
all came down to why?

It was probably the simplest
question and yet insoluble for all its simplicity. Why?

"They come," said Elrin Jinn,
staring hard at Tom.

The boy stumbled but somehow
managed to keep his footing, looking behind them anxiously as they
continued to run. His eyes had almost become accustomed to the
dimly lit tunnel but there was no sign or sound of anything close
by. He glanced back at the man who led him. "Who?" he called, an
uneasiness stealing into his heart.

"Listen closely."

Somewhere distant, but rapidly
drawing nearer, a scuttling sound could be heard, accompanied by an
occasional high-pitched squealing.

"What is it?" Tom panted, his
nerves on edge, forcing himself to maintain his speed, trying to
get alongside his long striding companion, but Jinn went on with
increasing urgency.

"The shrews, boy!" he shouted
back, never faltering despite his great haste, "we walk their
burrow...we trespass."

"Walk!?" Tom spluttered,
finding the man's use of the word somewhat ironic. He had never run
so fast or so hard in his whole life. Even on sports day at school
where he had taken part in the marathon, he had not experienced
such a gruelling test of his stamina and fitness. He knew that he
would have to rest soon, his breathing now painful, his legs weak,
no matter what might be pursuing them.

“
What about the
hunters!?” he almost choked, taking rasping breaths.

“
They remain above. Now
we face a hunter of another kind.”

Tom could barely put his
thoughts in order, but then a sudden memory stirred. He recalled
Uncle Ira leading he and Jack up the hill toward his house. It had
been the day they had arrived home for their summer holiday, full
of expectation, little suspecting then what lay in store for them
and Tom had not really understood why his Uncle had tested them,
pushing them harder and harder upon that steep climb.

Did Ira know what was to come?
Mo said he knew we would come to this place.

With some difficulty Tom
increased his pace.

I won't let you down. I'll make
it back home again.

They came quite suddenly into a
clearing, the tall trees that ringed the open space surrounding
them like an eager crowd, their reaching branches creaking in the
wind.

Mo growled quick instructions
at Jack, lifting his head from the ground and baring his teeth. "We
are found! Prepare to fight or die."

Jack's head swam with images of
bloody battle. "We haven't got a chance," he heard himself
mutter.

"Do not falter," came the
badger's harsh reply, "hold on to faith."

Then, as Jack tried to take
courage from the animal's words, a single hound appeared, huge and
grey, stepping slowly from between the trees on the far side of the
clearing. It stood motionless, pale, watery eyes regarding
them.

The dog was a giant. Not in all
his life had Jack seen one that even came close to its size and
build. The beast's muscled body rippled with power, it's
wedge-shaped head a mass of hard bone, the flesh pulled taut, sleek
coat bristling. Murderous fangs dribbled saliva as it began to
stalk unhurriedly toward them and Jack knew full well what the
fearsome creature intended. One look into its hateful eyes told him
everything he needed to know.

The hound's sinuous frame
tensed, as if it meant to spring forward and Jack realised that
there was no hope of escape, that if he tried to run, the dog would
bring him down and tear him to pieces.

"What can we do?" he said in a
low, frightened voice, trying at the same time to remain perfectly
still, afraid that any sound or movement might provoke the dog into
attack. It halted its approach at the centre of the clearing, its
massive body hunkered close to the ground, nostrils flared and its
red maw opened wide as if it were tasting their scent.

"You," commanded the badger
coolly, responding to Jack's question, "must do nothing. I will
deal with this creature."

And with that Mo walked out
into the open, there to face the hound on its own terms.

"No," was all Jack could find
to say, the word coming from his mouth in a hoarse whisper. But it
was too late. The battle had begun.

With shocking speed, the
gigantic dog flew at its adversary, fangs bared, fluid trickling
over its jaws, anticipating the taste of blood and flesh.

And yet the badger stood his
ground, apparently unafraid, and at the very last instant before
the hound reached him, he shifted his weight and pushed upwards,
striking hard into the dog's side and underbelly with his rigid
snout. For brief seconds the grey monster was thrown off balance
and seizing this opportunity, Mo attacked its exposed throat, his
own sharp teeth revealed in all their deadly glory.

Jack shut his eyes tightly. He
did not want to see any more of it. Of course, he wanted Mo to win
with all his heart, but the battle was so savage and horrific that
he found he could not feel anything other than disgust.

As the badger's teeth ripped
into the dog's neck, shredding the main artery as they tore the
flesh, blood exploded from the wound, a deluge pouring onto Mo's
face and body. His fur was stained a dark, glistening red and
within moments the hound was still, its carcass sprawled on the
blood-soaked earth.

Opening his eyes, Jack held his
gaze downward, not wanting to face his friend, feeling changed by
what had just taken place.

Mo came to stand beside the boy
and very slowly, warily, Jack looked up and was shocked by how old
and tired the badger appeared now. "It is the way of the Beast to
destroy," Mo stated, his tone weary. "But you should have learnt by
now that things are never as they seem. So how can we judge the
right from the wrong, the true from the false?"

Jack shook his head sluggishly,
his emotions muddled. "How can we ever be sure of anything then?"
he asked eventually.

"Follow your heart," was the
badger's simple answer.

And Jack knew that whatever Mo
might do, even though those things might seem strange and terrible
to him, he would go wherever the animal led, for he believed that
whatever his actions, Mo's heart was good. And in this terrifying
new world of deception and evil, he had to believe in
something.

Jagaren knelt beside the corpse
of the hound and laughed gently to himself.

So they mean to make a fight of
it. All the better.

It was a fine hunt indeed and
with quicksilver speed and unearthly grace he was running again. He
knew that he would catch up with them soon enough, but he enjoyed
the chase almost as much as the kill itself and he meant to savour
every moment.