The Magic Lands (46 page)

Ahead of him, Dredger went at a
brisk pace, deftly negotiating his way through the throng, whereas
Jack, being smaller and far less sure of himself, often found it
difficult to keep up. Fortunately, Dredger's stature made him
easily recognisable amongst the sailors, fishermen and other common
townsfolk, and he found that he was able to follow at a distance
without any real fear of becoming lost.

Within a few minutes the
warrior came upon an inn, a large sign above its door parading the
name SEAFARERS ARMS, and Jack realised that this was their
destination as Dredger went inside without even a glance back to
confirm that the boy was still with him.

Could Mo be
in there?
he wondered dubiously.

But before Jack could go after
him, there came a shout from somewhere nearby.

"Hey boy," called a voice and
turning he saw that it belonged to a small, unruly looking
character, crossing the road in a hurry and gesturing at him.

Jack could only stand still and
appraise the man sceptically as he approached, not at all certain
as to what he should do. He thought about calling for Dredger, but
the warrior had long since disappeared into the tavern.

"You, yes you!" said the
stranger, pointing a grubby finger as he came up level with Jack,
slightly out of breath. He was only marginally taller than the boy
and his clothes were dirty and ill-fitting. On his head, perched
atop a curly mass of white hair was a black beret that Jack could
not help but stare at. The way it appeared to wobble as if it was
about to fall off at any moment and yet remained miraculously
balanced there, made Jack want to laugh out loud and as it was, he
had to hide a smile with a quickly raised hand.

"If you're going to ask me for
money, I'm sorry but I haven't got any," he said good-naturedly,
thinking this odd fellow to be a beggar of some sort, but the man
only laughed at this, a coarse, throaty sound that Jack thought to
be far from healthy.

"Nay boy!" he exclaimed,
coughing so violently that he had to pause for several moments,
wiping his mouth on a dirty sleeve. "Nay, I bring you a message,"
he resumed when he had recovered.

"A message?" Jack queried,
"from who? And who are you anyway?"

"My name is Kanner, Leo
Kanner," the man said, giving a bow and Jack was certain that his
beret would fall off, but still somehow it managed to defy the laws
of gravity and stayed where it was. "I am a courier by profession,"
he finished with an air of self-importance, giving the boy a wink
and a half-formed image of another man, astride a horse, flashed
through Jack's mind, a remnant of a memory or perhaps more likely,
a dream.

Jack eyed the man for a moment.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

The small man looked affronted
and a little dismayed. "The message that I bear comes from one who
calls himself Mo, if that means anything to you?"

Jack wasn't sure what to make
of all this and he knew he should go inside the tavern and fetch
Dredger, but something within him, maybe pride, maybe stubbornness,
made him reluctant to do so. Did he really need the warrior? After
all, Dredger hadn't seemed too concerned if Jack entered the
building or not, and Jack was just about fed up with the game of
follow the leader anyway.

"Where is he?" he asked, still
caught in two minds, thinking that he would find out what he could
before calling in Dredger.

Kanner leaned closer to the
boy, keeping his voice low. "The one you seek is further along the
coast, up by the Grey Cliffs. He told me to tell you that your
enemies are close by and that you must be wary. He said to warn you
that you cannot be sure who is friend or foe."

Jack glanced back at the inn,
alarmed by this warning, which only seemed to confirm everything he
had thought to himself since Dredger's sudden reappearance. The
Warrior had been away a long time. Who could say what might have
happened to him? Was the badger avoiding Dredger until he had a
chance to speak to Jack alone?

"Which way?" he asked abruptly,
his mind made up at last.

"Here," directed Kanner,
immediately making off away from the noise and bustle of the town
along a cobbled back-street. Without anymore hesitation Jack
followed, climbing a steep incline between weathered buildings,
leaving the SEAFARERS ARMS and all those inside behind him.

Tom could smell sea air. It was
unmistakable.

He had no knowledge of how he
had come to be there but his memories were intact, Ira's words of
love still with him, his emotions uncertain.

He remembered the times his
Uncle had taken him on trips to the seaside, where he would spend
countless hours searching rock-pools for crabs or jellyfish,
playing at mountain-climbing over the rocky outcrops that littered
the beaches and best of all, discovering cave entrances, the
forbidding darkness within exciting him with the promise of hidden
treasures.

All the while Ira would look
on, never chastising him or preventing him from exploring unknown
areas and it seemed now that his Uncle had been encouraging him to
run free, even when at times it might have appeared he was risking
injury by climbing up some sheer cliff-face or precariously jumping
across slippery rocks.

The only thing Ira had ever
said to him was 'enjoy your childhood, Tom, make the most of it.
Because once you grow up, the world tries its very best to rob you
of the things that make this time so special. Of course that's not
to say you have to give them up willingly, no, but once lost, it's
difficult indeed to recapture the simplicity of youth'.

Well, I've not lost it yet!

He sniffed the breeze and
tasted the salty air before beginning to wander across the grassy
dunes.

Dredger slammed his fist down
hard onto the table he was seated at, causing the publican at the
bar to glance at him warily. "Where is my companion?" the warrior
challenged, his voice pitched low.

There were about half a dozen
men drinking ale in the tavern and every face turned toward the
stranger, each regarding him with hostility and contempt.

"No-one here has seen your
friend," the publican told him gruffly and Dredger smiled, his lips
forming a thin, deadly line that made most there a little
uneasy.

"He was to be here," the
warrior informed them, speaking to no-one in particular. "He would
not have been delayed, save by some evil design."

One of the men standing at the
bar, after downing the last dregs in his tankard, began to laugh
loudly, slapping his thigh for effect. He was a stocky, red-bearded
seaman, no doubt from one of the ships docked in the harbour and
Dredger looked him over with evident disdain.

"Evil design!" the sailor
mocked. "This fellow has a pretty tongue I may say." This brought
some laughter from the other men but the warrior's eyes never left
the speaker. "What kind of fool would think there's anything evil
here in Pelagian?"

Slowly, Dredger rose up out of
his chair and moved toward the bearded man. "I am," he breathed,
"the kind of fool who would find it remarkably easy to end your
life." The warrior's hand was poised above the hilt of his sword,
only waiting for some sign from the other that combat would ensue
and there was a sudden eagerness in his blood, a powerful need to
unleash a terrifying violence burning within him.

Facing him, although his gaze
was steady, the seaman appeared uncertain. He shifted his weight
anxiously, trying to evaluate whether he was a match for the tall
stranger. They faced each other for a few seconds only before he
let himself relax. "No need to take offence, friend," he said, his
voice even, and with a fleeting smile and a nod Dredger stepped a
pace backward.

"Now," he announced, "either
one of you tell me where I can find my companion, or your friend,
red-beard here, shall lose more than just his pride."

And with that, the warrior's
sword was drawn, its sharp tip tickling the sailor's throat before
he had barely time to blink.

Jack was still playing follow
the leader. Only his guide had changed, not the game.

They were making their way
along a small, stony pathway which wound up into the hillside that
rose high above the sea. Looking out across the water, Jack could
make out several bodies of land, each one further out than the last
and he knew that they were a

chain of islands stretching out
into the blue, each of them of similar size as far as he could
tell, although the last was no more than a dark smudge on the
horizon.

"Is it much further?" he asked,
returning his attention to his guide.

"It's a stone's throw from
here," remarked the man, glancing at him over his shoulder, his
beret denying the fierce wind that blew in from the sea.

They were high up on the
cliff-top now, the path curving around and over a gigantic rock
that jutted out above the sandy beach below. Even so, Kanner
clambered up onto it and coming to a standstill upon the rock
itself, he blithely walked over to the very tip where it was most
narrow and peered down at the waves solemnly pushing their way in
and out of the beach.

"Fantastic view," he declared,
"and it's a long way down too." Jack drew a little closer, trying
to extend his neck out far enough to look without getting too near
to the edge. "If you fell," Kanner commented, turning back toward
the boy, "you would be unlikely to survive." Below them the sea had
become suddenly wild, the surf swelling and foaming, the golden
sand assaulted with increasing ferocity. The water seemed alive.
"Do you know something," said the man, a playful smile animating
his features. "Things have not been going as they should of late.
Plots have been undone, schemes ruined by meddlers. Plans have had
to be changed. Friend's of yours," he added with subdued anger,
"have not acted as they should."

Jack realised that
unconsciously he had moved closer toward the edge of the cliff-top,
his eyes remaining downcast, unable to look away from the
tempestuous waves, mighty breakers now rushing up onto the beach,
reaching further and further each time they came.

"So you see," Kanner went on,
"something has to be done. It's a simple fact, a fact of life if
you like, that people have to be taught the hard way. They need a
good hard knock, a shock to the system so to speak, to make them
see things as they really are."

Puzzled, Jack glanced up for
the first time since the man began talking, his toes now almost
over the lip of the rock. "What did you say?" he questioned,
concentration eluding him, the irresistible lure of the waves
pulling his gaze back down. The wind whipped at him, icy fingers
clutching at his clothes, urging him forward.

"Remember the way it felt to
kill, Jack?" Kanner asked him, drawing nearer, his low voice
perfectly clear despite the clamour of the elements. "Remember the
way it made you feel strong and alive. Remember that?"

Blinking hard, Jack fought to
retain his balance, sky and sea becoming one, pressing upon him
from above and below, robbing him of his senses, his sanity. "I...I
don't know," he stammered, shaking his head, "I don't know what
you're talking..." But his words trailed away into an empty
silence.

Then a picture began to take
shape in Jack's mind, vague at first but gaining clarity. It was
the face of a woman, or perhaps she was only a girl, it was
difficult to be sure, but she was smiling at him and as he listened
to her voice, the sound musical and soothing, he knew what he must
do. The vision faded as suddenly as it had come and he found
that

Kanner was very close to him
now, the man's hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Maybe your friends will think
again now," he told Jack, his fingers tightening their grip. "Maybe
this will get through to them." Letting out a snarl, Kanner grabbed
Jack and tried to force him over the brink. But even as he felt the
man begin to exert pressure against him, Jack suddenly transferred
his body weight to his right leg, enabling him to duck beneath his
attacker's arm and turn behind him, the man left tottering, his own
balance lost, arms flailing wildly as he stared at the jagged rocks
far below. Desperately he reached back, fingers clawing at Jack's
face, but with a coolness that both shocked and exhilarated him,
Jack simply touched the man on the back, just the gentlest push to
send him toppling forward, Kanner's frantic attempts to regain his
footing unable to save him as with a piercing scream of terror he
fell.

Jack watched him go all the way
down, until the man finally struck the rocks at the foot of the
cliff, his body ricocheting and bouncing off onto the sand.
Standing there, dangerously close to the edge but entirely
unconcerned about his own safety, Jack continued to stare fixedly
down at the tiny figure that lay crumpled and lifeless, the waves
taking hold of the corpse and dragging it further down the beach as
they receded. Something else attracted his gaze and he saw beyond
the breakers, the beret floating upon the unfeeling water, drifting
slowly away into the open sea.

Another little murder.

He felt tired and void of
emotion. "I'm getting quite good at it," he decided with a quirky
smile and he experienced a bout of giddiness, his vision hazy.
Steadying himself, he

realised that there was really
only one thing for him to do now.

It was time for Jack Barton to
pay his dues. Time to exit from the game.

As the other stranger entered
the tavern, all who were there breathed an almost audible sigh of
relief.

"Dredger!" the man in the
doorway called authoritatively. His eyes alighted briefly on the
red-bearded man, who was doing his level best not to gulp down the
saliva that filled his mouth, sweat running over his face as he
exerted all of his willpower to the task of remaining perfectly
still. Where the sword was pressed against his throat he could feel
the rapid beat of his pulse. "There are matters that demand our
attention," the new arrival instructed stepping closer, his gaze
now directed solely at the warrior. Turning toward the speaker,
Dredger glared at him. "I thought you had come to some harm," he
said, a slight irritation in his voice, almost as if he were
disappointed to see his companion safe and well, his hunger for
bloodshed barely under control.