The Magic Lands (52 page)

Welles raised his eyes skyward,
a look of complete bafflement on his face. "You're both madmen!" he
stated, glancing at Dredger.

"Please do not argue, Captain,"
Mo said briskly. "Just do as I ask."

The seaman hesitated and seemed
about to object further, before turning away to communicate with
his first mate once more.

"Will you come, Jack?" Mo
asked, beckoning to him and with a nod, the boy went to stand at
his side.

"Let it be on your own heads!"
Dredger snarled, as they made to go. "But I at least shall remain
here, for even if you are willing to throw away your lives, I am
not."

"You value your skin so
highly?" questioned Mo, fixing the warrior with his gaze.

"I know its worth," returned
Dredger coolly and for a moment the two men stared at each other as
if waiting for the other to say something more. Then Mo turned away
and went purposefully to where several sailors were battling hard,
their backs bent in an effort to operate the pulleys that would
lower the longboat, and laying his hand upon the cable, set about
lending them whatever aid he could.

Looking on, Jack had started to
have second thoughts. Taking to the dangerous waters in what was
really no more than a wooden tub, compared to The Spiritwalker,
terrified him and he had to wonder if Mo actually knew what he was
doing.

The boat slapped down into the
water and a rope ladder was lowered to it and the first of the men
who would accompany them climbed over the side and descended to the
waiting craft.

Was this suicide, as Dredger
seemed to think?

Following Mo into the boat and
settling down beside him, Jack thought about it capsizing and
imagined the water stealing into his lungs, filling his nose and
mouth, dragging him down into its hidden depths, and it was all he
could do to keep himself in his seat.

Maybe Dredger
was
right. Maybe it was madness to
try to reach the land whilst the swollen waters warned them so
unmistakably to stay away.

After all, what could be so
important on that island that it was worth risking their lives
for?

It had begun to rain and Tom
huddled down not merely as protection from the biting wind, but
also to conceal himself.

From his position on the rocky
hillside, he watched as the crew of the longboat brought it finally
to the beach, four men jumping out to pull the craft through the
water onto the sand. Once safely landed, others also disembarked,
spreading out a little as they trudged ashore, and it was only then
that Tom saw something that made his heart leap and his mouth open
involuntarily as if he would cry out, but no sound escaped him.

There, standing beside a tall
man who reminded Tom in many ways of Dredger, was a young boy who
looked very much like Jack, and the likeness was so striking that
Tom immediately forgot all about hiding and stood up, so that he
might get a better look at the figures below.

Instantly, one of the crewmen
saw him and pointed, shouting as he did so, drawing the others
attention. But Tom didn’t care that he had been seen, such was his
amazement and he just remained there, staring down, heedless of any
danger he might be in, heedless of the storm that tore at him upon
that exposed height, his eyes piercing the rain, transfixed on the
boy.

It
was
Jack, he was certain of it.

The clothes were different from
those his friend had worn when they were last together, but
everything else, his posture, his whole attitude, said that it
could only be Jack.

Or was this yet another wile of
the Wolf? Another trial to test his courage and resolve?

Tom didn't know if he could
stand that. He had been through so much already.

Tentatively, he raised his arm
and waved and very slowly, as if as uncertain as Tom was, the boy
who looked so very much like Jack lifted his hand in response,
before abruptly breaking into a run, leaving his companions behind.
On he came, regardless of the obstacles in his way, clambering over
the rocky landscape, and without thinking, Tom also began to slide
down the steep face of the hill, wet sand and clumps of coarse
scrub catching at his feet. He cared little that he might fall.
Nothing was going to keep him apart from his friend any longer.

Through the pouring rain the
two boys raced to meet each other, both stumbling and slipping in
their eagerness, but the uncertain terrain could not hold them
back. As they reached a middle ground, halfway up the hillside, and
came onto a plateau of rock that jutted from the sand, so they both
decreased their pace, slowing to a walk until at last they came
face-to-face.

They stood just a few feet
apart, each panting for breath, each gazing at the other with a
mixture of joy and disbelief. Neither said a word. The wind moaned
and the rain lashed down, cold against their faces.

Hesitantly, Jack smiled. "I've
been looking for you everywhere," he said simply, running a hand
through his soaking hair.

Tom smiled too and nodded, but
his expression was solemn, showing his weariness and the strain
that he was under. "It's really you?" he said with difficulty.

Jack stepped forward and laid a
hand upon Tom’s arm. "It's really me," he confirmed quietly, the
words immediately lost in the tumult of the storm.

The warmth that Tom felt toward
the other boy overwhelmed him then and he put his arm around Jack's
shoulders, gripping him tightly, the contact reassuring. "Can I
make a suggestion?" he asked, giving Jack a sidelong glance.

"What?" asked Jack and Tom had
to smile again.

"Let's stick together from now
on," he said and saw Jack pause only for a moment before
nodding.

"It's a deal," came the reply
and then they began to make their way back down to the beach, but
more slowly this time, their safety valuable to them now.

They had both changed in many
respects since their parting, and yet despite everything that had
happened to them along the way, despite all the doubts and fears,
the affection they held for each other seemed to be the stronger
because of it. For in their hearts they both knew that theirs was a
friendship that could never be broken.

A fair-haired man, the one who
Tom had thought so like Dredger, came forward and smiled as they
descended from the rock. "Tom!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand,
and Tom stopped dead in his tracks, surprised by the man's
greeting.

"Do I know you?" he asked
cautiously staring hard at the stranger, a curious feeling of
recognition tugging at his mind, even though he knew full well he
had never seen the man before in his life.

Beside Tom, Jack began to laugh
quietly, apparently finding it all quite amusing, his gaze moving
back and forth between the fair-haired man and Tom, the expression
on his friend's face only making him laugh all the more.

"What is it, Jack!?" questioned
Tom, a bit irritated. "What's so funny?"

With a deep chuckle that
sounded very familiar, the man came over to him. "Now, Tom, do not
begrudge Jack his moment of good humour. And besides, if anyone
should be offended, it is I, for I had hoped you would recognise a
friend no matter how much he might have changed!"

Tom was certain now that this
was all a dream after all. He knew that voice well enough, but it
was impossible. How could a badger become a man? "I don't..." he
started to say, but couldn't find any words to explain how he
felt.

"You know me now," said the
man, seeing the light of recognition in the boy's eyes. "That is
enough. Explanations must wait for a more suitable time, I’m
afraid. The sea is turning against us and we must return to the
ship, before we are all stranded on this island." He walked away,
heading back toward the small group of men who waited further down
the beach and mechanically, Tom followed him, a now serious Jack
close at his side.

"Don't expect a particularly
good explanation," his friend commented as they went.

The way Jack appeared to have
accepted the badger's miraculous transformation made Tom feel a
little more comfortable with it himself, although he was sure it
would take him quite some time to get used to.

Coming to the longboat, they
began to embark, the crewmen climbing aboard first, taking their
places at the oars, but as Tom moved to pull himself over the side,
he noticed that Mo was gazing at him thoughtfully. "To find your
heart’s desire," the fair-haired man muttered. As soon as he heard
these words, Tom froze. "Is something wrong?" Mo asked, the waves
lapping at their feet, swelling with the tide and lifting the boat
from the sand, threatening to tear it away from them. The other men
called to them anxiously, urging them to hurry, but Mo held up a
hand. "What is it, Tom?" he pressed, leaning close, aware of the
anguish that had overtaken his young friend and though the sea
seemed to

roar louder than ever, Tom's
whispered reply was perfectly clear.

"Lisa," he said and turned to
face the windswept hills.

The ship was under attack, and
the army that waged war upon The Spiritwalker belonged to nature
herself. High waves beat angrily against the hull. Wind and rain
assaulted the crewmen as they worked diligently to furl the sails,
and though he raged against this powerful adversary, shouting
orders and encouragement at the top of his voice, Captain Welles
was growing more concerned with every minute that passed.

The sea had become
unnatural!

This was not the first time the
Captain had been witness to strange, unaccountable phenomena at
sea. He could tell a few tales of inexplicable events taking place
while riding the oceans, and had learned that out here, the water
ruled and had many secrets. And yet, there seemed to be a malice in
the weather this day, a destructive urge that was doing its level
best to send them to their doom. For his crew were working well but
still they floundered, and for all their efforts, they were
gradually, almost slyly, being drawn toward the rocks that jutted
ominously from the headland.

They called it The Seventh
Step, but Welles was beginning to think of it as the first step
toward hell! He braced himself against a wave that came crashing
onto the deck, but the force of it pushed him backward and he had
to grab blindly for something to prevent him being carried over the
side.

Lurching around, bellowing his
frustration, he saw that Dredger stood nearby, gripping the rail, a
smile playing upon his lips.

Welles decided that he had been
a fool to have ever agreed to give them passage in the first place,
and to have let them take to the longboat in these conditions was
an act of pure madness. What could there be that was so important
on that damned island!?

Whatever it was, it hardly
mattered any more. If they did not return very soon, he would have
no choice but to make away from this hazardous place. Already they
had sustained some damage and he would not just stand by and see
his vessel and crew destroyed.

With these thoughts burning in
his mind, the Captain advanced on Dredger, making no effort to
conceal his indignation. "Time is running out for your friends," he
barked, coming alongside, hanging onto the rail as the ship
shuddered beneath him. "We will all be lost if we remain here much
longer!"

The warrior regarded the man
with disinterest for a moment, before looking out across the
frenzied sea, his eyes searching for some sign of the small craft
that bore his companions. "If they come, they come," he uttered.
"If they fail, that is as it must be. Do not trouble yourself,
Captain. Your ship will not sink."

The seaman grunted at
this. "Thank you for your assessment,
sir
. But I think I am the best judge of
that!"

"Quite so," replied Dredger,
"so set yourself to that task and leave all other matters to those
who are concerned in them!"

Captain Welles felt his temper
boiling over. Everything about this jumped-up fighting man rubbed
him the wrong way and he thought that before the voyage was over,
he would like to have the pleasure of teaching him a few hard
lessons. Throwing an arm in the air dismissively, Welles turned
himself about and pushed off across the reeling deck, leaving
Dredger to eye the waves that reared above their heads, the jagged
peaks like the claws of some immense beast poised to strike at its
prey.

"For your own sake," the
warrior breathed as the man departed, "I hope you never have reason
to cross me." He stared at the water, lost for a moment in the dark
places of his mind, but he knew he could not dwell there for long,
however seductive it might be and it was with grim resolve that he
bent his gaze once again toward the shore.

"No!" refused Tom in dismay, "I
won't leave her behind!"

"Tom," began Mo moving closer
to the boy, "have you not wondered how you came to be here in the
first place? Have you not understood that the land is ever
shifting? Nothing here is constant. The Wolf would like nothing
better than for you to go back in search of her." Tom felt as if he
were being torn apart, his love for Lisa battling against his trust
and loyalty toward his friends. "I guarantee, Tom, that if you go
looking for her, you will never find her. And it will cost us all
very dearly."

He didn't understand any of it,
but he knew Mo well enough, whatever his physical guise, to be
certain that he spoke the truth.

With despair threatening to
smother him, he recalled the way she had begged him not to leave
her, sure that he would not come back.

What
was
Lisa? Was she real or only
make-believe?