The Magic Lands (44 page)

Tom approached the door
cautiously. He took hold of the rusty handle and pushed, the door
groaning upon its hinges and swinging inward, revealing the chamber
beyond.

As he stepped inside Tom was
immediately struck by the size of the room. It seemed impossible
that it could be so large, but he quickly realised that in some
respects it was a trick of the eye, the impression of size created
by the tremendous depth of the chamber. He tipped his head back and
gazed upward to where there should have been some kind of ceiling,
but to his amazement there was none, only a great, yawning hole
through which the dark sky peered down upon them.

Walking a little further into
the room, he noticed that there was something stacked against the
far wall, half hidden in the shadows. It was fairly big, about ten
feet by ten and Tom instantly recognised it as some kind of cage,
although its bars were woven in an unusual and elaborate pattern.
At its centre there was a door that stood slightly ajar.

Turning to comment on his
discovery, Tom was surprised to see Dr. Redhand still standing in
the doorway.

"What do you think it could be
for, Tom?" the man asked, an odd note in his voice.

"I don't know," answered the
boy, uncertain.

"Very odd, very strange," the
doctor said, looking over at the cage.

"Is there something you're not
telling me?" Tom queried, made a little anxious by the man's
behaviour, but Dr. Redhand only threw back his head and laughed
gamely at this, the sound echoing from the walls and on out into
the night.

"You really are a card, Tom,
you really are! But I'll tell you what, I'll come clean with you,
seeing as you asked so politely. All is not as it might appear
here, you see, not at all. Angel Tower really does hold some dark
secrets, and one of them is that someone has been lying to you. Now
who could it be, erm...let me think...oh yes... it's me!"

Tom stared at the man too
bewildered to be frightened. "What do you mean?" he asked blankly.
"What's going on?"

"I'll explain it to you,
Thomas," began Dr. Redhand with a patient smile. "You see, there
was a time when people were much closer to their creator than they
are now. Once upon a time, heaven was not just a fairy-tale land in
the sky, it was a place Mankind could actually reach, if they had a
mind to. And the emissaries of heaven, that's angels to you, would
visit this world and communicate with its people, advising
them...guiding them. But I couldn't allow that to continue, you
must see that. I had to put a stop to it."

Tom was gazing at Dr. Redhand
now with a growing sense of unease, shaking his head as if to deny
he was the man who had befriended him.

"Yes, you're right, Tommy, I'm
not old Red," said the figure in the doorway. "He took a fall and
cricked his neck, the poor son of an acrobat! No, I think you know
who I really am."

Even as Tom looked on, the man
began to change, shimmering at first until he became a brilliant
radiance of flashing colours, gradually taking on another, larger
form, a bestial shape with long arms upraised, claws gleaming in
the last of the fading light.

"Welcome to your death," said
the White Wolf, its eyes glinting with pleasure.

Tom took several steps
backward, retreating from the terrible apparition that stood only a
few yards from him, the thick white fur that covered its body
ruffled by a light wind that came from the opening in the roof.

"Now, now, Tom, don't be
foolish. I can take you at any time I please. But I have a treat in
store for you first. Look up, my brave, young friend, look up and
see the true secret of the tower."

Above him, before Tom had even
begun to raise his eyes, a humming sound had already commenced that
seemed to vibrate the air around him, and what he saw when he at
last gazed upward toward the night sky made him feel as if all hope
had passed away, leaving him helpless in the clutches of the
Beast.

There, hovering no more than
thirty feet above his head, were two winged creatures, slender and
sinewy, their piercing orange eyes fixing him with a desperate
longing.

"They are hungry, Tom," said
the Wolf, "and I cannot deny them their prize."

"I hate you," Tom said in a
hoarse whisper, terror closing around his throat with fingers of
iron.

"I know, Tom, I know. But
that's just the way it goes. There's still time for you to
repent."

Tom's eyes were drawn to the
demons above him, their wings beating rapidly as they awaited their
master's command. But as he looked, something beyond them, white
against the darkness of the night, was silently descending.

This was so much like another
of his strange dreams that Tom could only stand perfectly still and
watch, almost detached, as a beautiful figure, its own great wings
flapping effortlessly, a golden crown upon its head, came down
through the opening in the tower. It’s clear grey eyes gazed into
Tom's with such an expression of love and compassion that it made
him want to weep. The creatures that hovered below it screeched in
unison, and in the doorway the Wolf cocked its head on one side to
listen, taking pleasure from the awful sound.

"This is wonderful," it snarled
softly, its dark gaze finding Tom. "It seems your presence in the
tower has called down one of the pretty ones. I must thank you,
Tom, my boy. It was most kind of you to bring my pets such a
precious gift." Saying this, the Beast gestured toward the winged
monstrosities and immediately they pivoted in the air and flew at
the angel, deftly manoeuvring their lithe bodies so as to cut off
any hope of escape. "Now you will witness a symbol of the new age,"
cried the White Wolf merrily. "Oh, what an unexpected delight!"

Tom looked up into the angel's
eyes and saw there a deep sadness that broke his heart.

I can't just stand by and let
this happen! But what can I do?

Agitated and desperate he felt
at his pockets, knowing that he needed a miracle and he touched
something bulky and rough tucked down deep, all but forgotten.

The
catapult
, Tom remembered, his hand closing around the
haft. It was still there, along with the rocks he had collected in
the tunnel.

Struggling to wrench the weapon
from his pocket, Tom watched as the flying demons circled the angel
repeatedly, preparing themselves for the kill. He lifted the
catapult high in his left hand and thrusting one of the rocks
hastily in place, he took aim at one of the creatures as it flew
near to him.

Memories of the robin surfaced
in his mind, a vivid image of its small, broken body tumbling
earthbound, but Tom pushed it from his mind and pulled back the
elastic with all his strength. Yet still he hesitated.

This is different. This time it
is different.

He could see the creatures
turning in the air, the shining figure trapped between their
hideous forms; he could feel the Wolf close to him, enraptured by
the dreadful scene and gritting his teeth, knowing that if he did
not act now the moment would be lost, he let the projectile
fly.

With a heavy thud, the rock
smashed into one of the demon's wings, ripping the membrane of skin
and sending the creature plummeting toward the ground, a foul
scream erupting from its lips as it fell. Tom threw himself to one
side as the thing came crashing down, narrowly missing him, its
writhing body crippled and useless. He looked up once more and he
was transfixed momentarily by the gaze of the angel who stared
unfalteringly at him, something passing between them that Tom only
felt and did not understand, although it spoke of gratitude and a
promise of love that was absolute and unquestionable.

Then the angel, seizing the
moment of confusion, fell upon the other demon, clutching it firmly
by the shoulders, the two creatures face to face. They seemed to
pause suspended for an moment in the air, eyes locked together. And
with an unearthly song rising from its lips, magnificent wings
beating steadily, the angel flew upward, the squirming creature
held securely in an immovable grasp, climbing vertically out of the
tower at tremendous speed.

"Clever boy," said a rasping
voice close beside him and turning Tom saw the golden eyes of the
Wolf regarding him, only inches from his own.

"You lost," Tom murmured,
scrambling in his pocket for another rock but the Beast just shook
its head impassively.

"Don’t be foolish, Tom. Your
David and Goliath act was only good for one performance. You can
set your toy aside now." And to Tom's own astonishment he let the
catapult slip through his fingers and drop to the floor. "You’re
such a silly boy," rebuked the White Wolf, "won't you ever learn
that I can never lose."

As Tom stared deep into the
eyes of the Beast, they seemed to enlarge, becoming pools of blood.
"A game, all a game," said a voice, but Tom could see nothing now
but a lake of glimmering crimson water, inviting him to dive into
its cool depths.

"A test?" Tom suggested, his
mind slow, refusing to work properly.

"Yes indeed," the voice
exclaimed, "a test, a little test to find out what you’re made
of."

"Flesh," Tom said slowly, "only
flesh and blood."

"Exactly," agreed the voice,
which now seemed to come from deep within the water, "just that and
nothing more. Why don't you just go home now and forget all about
it? Take a good long rest. You've earned it.”

"Yes I have," Tom decided,
teetering on the edge of the watery abyss. "I need a holiday!"

"Couldn't agree more," said the
voice, "forget everything and go home. No-one will hold it against
you. After all, there's no point in throwing your life away for
nothing, now is there?"

"No point," Tom repeated,
nodding. "I'm tired," he added sleepily.

"That's right, Tom. Sleep now
and when you awaken everything will be fine."

And Tom thought that he should.
He was very tired, his eyes so heavy it was almost impossible to
keep them open. He made one last effort to stay conscious, some
part of him fighting the inexorable pull of sleep but he was not
strong enough.

"Dive into the deep," the voice
advocated, Tom's head full of whispers, water lapping at his
feet.

"Can this be just another
dream?" he asked, closing his eyes as he prepared to plunge into
the dark waters.

"Yes, Tom, it is. And the dream
goes on."

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

The touch of something wet, its
gentle ebb moving against him, brought Jack back from sleep. Or had
it been sleep?

He could only recall fragments,
pieces of an illusive puzzle, but he was left with the indelible
impression that he had experienced a nightmare of epic
proportions.

With a small cry of surprise he
realised that he was laying in a shallow area of water, a fine
spray occasionally hitting his face as waves broke against a clump
of nearby rocks, the taste of salt-water upon his lips. Beneath him
he felt sand clinging to his body, his clothes soaked through.

Where am I?

Pushing himself onto his knees,
he scanned the immediate area and with a profound sense of
bewilderment he saw that he was on a stretch of beach, hemmed in by
large, jagged rocks that formed a small cove. Nothing moved other
than the waves breaking on the shore. Mo was nowhere to be
seen.

Jack closed his eyes and
struggled to concentrate his mind, to recall how he had come to
this place. But he could remember little besides a hazy journey,
supported by either a badger or a man, he could not be sure which.
His thoughts were a jumbled mess.

Gingerly he stood up, brushing
sand from his face and clothes. The beach stretched out for several
hundred yards in either direction, ending as it reached a plateau
of rocks that overhung the sea. The body of water, blue white and
exceptionally clear, went out to the horizon.

Although a sense of uneasiness
troubled him, just the sight of the waves rolling in and out made
him feel a good deal better. He felt clean and whole again here, as
if the sea air absolved all of his crimes.

Crimes. Now why should I think
of that?

All at once, the stinging
memory of his awful battle with the creature in the house of Mr.
Blakestone rushed back into his mind and then more powerfully, his
own private damnation, the deliberate sabotage of the generator
that had doomed the house itself and all those gathered within.

At least they
didn't suffer,
he found himself thinking and was
instantly disgusted by his pathetic reasoning, wishing so much that
he could go back and change it all, that he could be given a second
chance.

Jack clenched his hands into
fists and raised them to his face, pressing hard. "I don't want to
remember anymore!" he cried out at the sea. "I never want to
remember."

As he stood there shaking with
fear and self loathing, he heard footsteps, the sound of someone
approaching behind him across the sand.

Turning unhurriedly, Jack
looked upon a man who stood only a few paces off, a tall man in a
long grey coat, examining him with a rueful expression.

"And so our paths meet again,"
Dredger said, his dark eyes humourless.

He flowed like liquid in an
undertow of light. Tom was a rainbow.

Colours ran through his body,
glimmering above the ebony landscape he travelled across, no longer
mortal. He was now an entity of luminescence and though a heart
still beat somewhere inside him, his consciousness had taken flight
and soared toward the heavens, exploring the untouched clarity of
space. Tom hoped his feet would never touch the ground again. To
float with the clouds, to drift among the stars, that was where he
wanted to be.

In his mind, something
stirred.