Wordscapist: The Myth (The Way of the Word Book 1) (27 page)

     It was the perfect setting for something spooky. There was incessant rain, thunder, lightning, thick forest all around and two scared youngsters to boot. And then I entered the zone. The words came in a rush. I was hardly aware of what I was saying. It sounded pretty weird and there was a bit of what sounded like Latin thrown in as well. In a couple of minutes, I saw a vague form appearing in the air, hovering much like a ghost would.

     “Think of a shape, a form that you would like my spirit to take.”

     In a flash, it was over. There in front of us was the translucent form of a faerie, a male one. He was pretty good looking, if you discounted the curls and the elf-like ears. His delicate clothing and translucent wings did make a pretty picture. It also did not help that he was just a couple of inches tall. His voice however was pretty much the same. This time it was audible and did not echo within my head. Moreover, he was feeling extremely vocal!

     “You thought of a faerie! You have cast me in the image of a goddamned faerie! I am cast in a physical form after 400 years and it’s a damn faerie! And not even a real one at that! I look like something a bard would conjure up to entertain village folks! Are you out of your feeble mind? Do you know who I am? Do you even begin to understand what it takes to be me? A faerie?!”

     At this point, I burst out laughing. I could not help it. There was something incredibly funny about seeing a man all of two inches high throwing a tantrum a mile wide. Dew was staring with her eyes wide open at this apparition. De Vorto got even more furious at my reaction, his form flushing a deep red, glowing with emotion. He flitted around, glaring at me. This continued for a couple of minutes; me in fits of giggles, trying to laugh without shaking too much; Dew staring at the glowing, translucent faerie that darted around like a hyperactive hummingbird; and of course, the faerie himself, De Vorto in a rare temper.

In time, I finally recovered. Dew did too, slowly. At least, she stopped gawping. De Vorto had not recovered. He was still very pissed and looked every inch of it. Well, two of them at least. At this thought, I burst out laughing again. Part of it was the sheer hysteria of the moment. Part of it was also an effort to cut out the stab of fear I felt. De Vorto was gone from my head, but I could still feel a presence in there. This time, it felt a whole lot more powerful and formless…And it exuded something that felt like pure evil. I didn’t know what it was about, but I wasn’t ready to find out yet.

***

    De Vorto took some time getting over the shape he had to inhabit. In time, he did get to like it though, however much he denied it. He rather enjoyed the ability of flying about pretty much wherever he pleased. He also learned that he could become almost invisible if he managed to focus for long enough. This was pretty irritating for Dew and me because we could never make out when he was around.

      Dew managed to further heal my leg, with De Vorto’s help and guidance. De Vorto did not trust me to use the gift and I was forbidden from trying the simplest of scapes until I started my training. Once the rain abated, we made our way to my friend’s cabin. The spare key was behind the decorative griffin on the veranda, as always. We made our way in and lit up the storm lamps. We would have to figure out the generator and the fuel before we could have electricity.

     My leg still hurt a fair bit and I was cold and damp. So was Dew for that matter. De Vorto was waterproof, one of the many perks of his form. I limped to the kitchen, where I was glad to find a fully stocked kitchen with lots of canned foodstuff and, wonder of wonders, wine! I quickly fixed a meal of gourmet canned food along with a bottle of a modest rosé. Dew in the meanwhile had managed to dry her clothes using an iron she found. She had freshened up and looked as good as new. De Vorto was fluttering about, checking the place and muttering to himself. In the main room of that cottage I had my first date with Dew, with storm lamps instead of candles, De Vorto’s buzzing replacing violins, and thunder and lightning providing a lively ambience. The food was bland but the wine was decent. Dew was quite lost though, and apparently unaware of the inherently romantic setting. She was stealing glances at De Vorto who was putting up quite a show with his aerial acrobatics. I finally gave up on trying out soulful, intense looks and concentrated on eating. 

      Food and drink done, I settled in a corner with the mandatory after-dinner smoke. My packet had been soaked through, but my friend, ever the thoughtful one, had a carton as backup. It was pretty old backup and the cigarette tasted harsh, but any port in a storm. I gently massaged my foot as I smoked, wondering what was going to come. The presence in my head had settled down some, but it was there. Each time I did something difficult, which with a broken leg is almost everything, there was a flare of power in my head, an unspoken suggestion. I knew what it meant. It wasn’t using words, but it was pretty much saying...weave! It would be so easy to say a few words that would ease my pain, that would bring things flying to my hand, that would make me fly! These were crazy thoughts. I had to focus. I had to stay sane. No weaving! De Vorto had said I could blow myself up if I tried weaving. I didn’t want that. I went back to looking at Dew. At least that was safe. But she was lost in her own thoughts. I knew it wasn’t the food.

     Eventually, Dew looked up, ready for conversation. I gestured to De Vorto to join us. There was a lot to talk about. Dew gave the cigarette a rather disgusted look and asked, “Do you have to?” I shrugged and tried to look sheepish. Nevertheless, I took a couple of quick puffs and stubbed out the cigarette. De Vorto came closer, running into a swirl of smoke. He went a shade of grey-blue and looked like he was choking. He recovered quickly enough to make me wonder if it had been a show. All of this from someone who had been an inveterate pipe smoker all his life! His new anti-smoking policy was quite irritating. Just my luck, to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with two virulent non-smokers.

     Dew leaned forward and spoke, her expression serious, “First things first; where are we? I have not had a chance to ask you yet. We seem to be in a jungle of some sort.”

     I was rather pleased with myself for having brought us here. “Yes, it is a jungle. This is one of the islands in the Andaman and Nicobar chain. We used to come here every couple of years. My friend owns a bit of land and this cabin here. I could not think of any place safer than this.”

     “The Andaman and Nicobar islands?” Dew asked, her voice quite shocked. “And which island is this?”

      I crossed my fingers behind my back as I coughed through the name, “Katchal.”

     “Katchal?” Dew asked, the way she said it clearly indicating that she knew the name.

     “Yes,” I said, trying to keep my deadpan expression.

     De Vorto wasn’t getting this, and was alternating between our faces.

     “And how do we get out of this place?” De Vorto asked, an edge to his voice.

    “Well, we teleported in. We can teleport out.” I said, wondering why De Vorto was getting worked up, though I could understand why Dew might be getting testy.

    “Can you, Dew?” De Vorto asked Dew. She shook her head. “I thought as much. It takes an experienced wordsmith to manage a teleport. You, sir, got lucky with all you did, and it took everything I had to prevent you from exploding spontaneously as you did it. Now, I would not be able to do that anymore. And neither can you. So what are our options?”

      I had a sinking feeling. I realised that I had taken a lot of things for granted. I lowered my head, wishing I could somehow hide my face between my shoulders. I gulped and muttered, “There is no other way. We will have to wait till someone comes here. And this time of the year, no one will.”

     “I’m not surprised,” Dew said, gritting her teeth.

    “Something I should know?” De Vorto asked, anger fighting with curiosity.

     “Katchal was one of the worst hit islands when a tsunami - that’s a massive wave triggered by an earthquake - hit these parts.” I volunteered the information before Dew could say much. “The government is still rebuilding infrastructure here. Also, this place is closed to tourists, and there are only a few inhabitants.”

      “What!” Dew and De Vorto shouted in chorus. I pulled my head in a couple more inches, wincing a bit.

     “I thought you knew this, from the way you said Katchal,” I said to Dew, half petulantly.

     “I knew about the tsunami, not about the rest of it. Is there no way to send word to your friends? A radio or something?” Dew asked.

     “My friend has a Sat-Phone. But it is not here. He brings it with him when we visit. This place doesn’t have any kind of connectivity at all. It’s just tribal folk living on the far side of the island, and they are pretty hostile.”

     “What is a sat fun?” De Vorto asked.

     “Never mind, De Vorto. You have 400 years of catching up to do. We’ll explain things in time.” I said.

     “No connectivity, hostile locals, Andaman fucking Nicobar islands! Brilliant! Well done, Slick!” Dew’s sarcasm was vicious, “You have been a peach all along. First you almost murder a dozen beach bums. Then you take on a warren of Free wordsmiths and antagonise them no end with all the fancy tricks you pulled off. Then you go and bust your leg with your stupid posturing! And now you bring us all to the back of beyond where we are stuck for I do not know how long! Congratulations!”

      That did it. I had a pretty unpredictable breaking point. And this time it happened - I gave it back to her. “Thank you, Dew. Now please try and do something for me,” I knelt in front of her, looking her in the eyes, ignoring the pain from my leg. “Think about your life and everything about it that you hold dear. Take enough time while you think, so that you can remember all the little things, things that make you smile, that make you feel nice and warm inside. Think about everything you have worked towards, squirreling away precious baubles like an obsessive magpie. Think about those few things, those few people you would kill for.” I took hold of the cushion she was holding, and tugged firmly at it, pulling it away, continuing to speak, “Now…take all that away; each and every one of these things, these people. Take away the whole world you have got used to and mastered. Fill up all the emptiness left behind with pain, violence, confusion and fear. Replace all those you love and who love you with people who hunt you or try to hurt you. Now, put yourself in a world you do not understand. Twist and tear every little thing out of shape till you do not recognise a single thing about your life anymore.”

     I let the words sink in, watching her eyes go all wide and serious. Ruthlessly, I drove the point home, “Have you done all this? Have you imagined how this would be? Now, let us look at the person you are. Are you the same person, Dew? Do you stay untouched, virginal white? Will you be able to stay true to all that you believe in? Will you be able to just get on with this new life and master all that is new? Would you be able to think sensibly and take the right actions in spite of all the insanity around you? Think hard and answer me honestly. Think Dew, before you pass judgment on someone else.”

     I pushed myself up and hobbled to a corner of the room, standing before a window, looking at the storm that raged outside. There was an uncomfortable silence, but I was beyond caring. I lit up another cigarette rather vehemently. They could go stuff it if they disapproved. After a while, I felt a hand on my elbow. “I’m sorry,” I heard. It was Dew.

     “The big guys who were standing outside the tent; do all of them work for your dad?” I asked Dew.

     She was pretty confused at that turn in the conversation. “Akto is not my dad. I just call him Papa Loon because everyone calls him that. And if you mean the guards, yes. You saw Reno who was asked to guard you. There are two more.”

     “Great. I just saw one of them peering at the cabin from between the trees. I think they have tracked us down. De Vorto! What do we do?” I looked around. De Vorto was nowhere to be seen. “Shit! Dew, turn off the lamps. Let’s scoot up to the attic. We can hide!”

      Dew shook her head, her face pale. “They will just run a trace scape on me. They won’t have your signature yet, but they have mine. They will find us.”

     I felt a clammy hand wrap itself in my guts. I hobbled to the storm lamps and turned them off. The room was plunged in darkness, except for the occasional burst of white from the lightning. “I’m assuming they traced the spot we teleported to. They must be hiking around, trying to see where we are. There are a couple more cabins around this place. These guys have probably split up to check the place. Tell me, is this guy a wordsmith?” Dew shook her head. “Good,” I said. I knew I could not use my gift, but I could use everything else I had. The presence in my head stirred and flared. But at least now there were no words. I focussed on the situation and ignored the silent urging within me to reach out for the gift.

      I went to the closet and opened it, pulling out a small axe we used for chopping firewood. I was done running and hiding. I was going to take the fight to those bastards. I turned around and saw Dew kneeling, her eyes closed. She seemed to be praying. Well, we could always use a little prayer. De Vorto was still nowhere to be seen.

      I went to the kitchen and let myself into the garden - the rain was sheeting down and I was soaked in a few seconds. I limped, trying to ignore the pain, sticking to the wall. I caught sight of a tree that would cover me. I made a quick dash for the tree and reached it just before the entire place was lit up by a flash of lightning. I hefted the axe in my hand and peeked out from behind the tree. I could see the courtyard in front of the house. It was deserted. It was then that I noticed the big guy next to the wall. He was making his way to the window, the same window I had been standing at a few moments before. I hobbled and skipped from tree to tree, jumping over rivulets of water and slimy patches.

      I was in a different zone altogether now, completely focussed on the man and nothing else. He reached the window, and within seconds he was dashing for the door - he had seen Dew! I made a beeline for him, running flat out, ignoring the pain and everything else. He put his shoulder to the door and rushed into the house while I was still some twenty metres away. I came very close to giving into the desperate mental flares to try something wordsmithy. Instead, I took a deep breath and threw the axe at the door, hoping to get a lucky shot at the guy’s back. I was running behind on my axe throwing practice though and the axe hit the wall a good distance away from the door, clattering to the floor. I had no option now. I closed my eyes and drew on the power, waiting for the words to come. I could feel the presence swell and fill my mind. And just when I braced myself to say the words, I heard an explosion. I opened my eyes just in time to see the intruder come flying out the door to land with a huge splash in the muck right in front of me. I looked up at the doorway as Dew walked up.