Aurelius and I (19 page)

I had only meant to rest my eyes for a few moments, but having been awake for almost twenty-four hours, I had ended up drifting into a deep sleep.

It was gone noon when I awoke and the midday sun was high in the sky. On returning to consciousness two thoughts flooded my mind; firstly, I had managed to avoid being murdered by trolls or eaten by wild animals while I had slept, and secondly, I was starving.

I retrieved the final, sweaty jam sandwich from my rucksack and greedily munched it down without even thinking to offer any to either of my companions (not that they would have been likely to have accepted such an offer; if you’re somebody that thinks bat poo tastes good, strawberry jam may well not be your most favoured food source). Having devoured my sandwich in around fourteen seconds, I leaned back against the tree I had been sleeping under and sighed, wondering whether I would ever see Baskerville again, or anybody else I loved for that matter, as I was becoming less and less sure that I would escape the wretched forest with my life.

“Sleep Well?” asked Ophelia.

“Not bad, considering I had no blankets and no roof over my head,” I admitted.

“Good, you’re going to need the energy. According to what we overheard from Aurelius and Blackheart we have less than twelve hours to save the forest and everybody in it, and we still don’t have the slightest idea what we’re supposed to be saving them from.”

“Will you stop it with all this
we
stuff, already,” Grahndel grumbled.

“Look,” the princess replied, “If you’re so against teaming up with us, what are you still doing here?”

It was a good question. After all, now that Grahndel’s story had been verified, he was pretty much free to go. I certainly wasn’t going to try to stop him at any rate. And besides, he had had the past seven hours to escape unnoticed. So why had he stayed?

“I, I have nowhere else to go,” he said timidly, as though fighting back tears. “Since Blackheart and his men have taken up residence in the caves, I’ve been left without food or shelter. Do you know what its like to be all alone in such a big forest, surrounded by predators? It’s not a nice feeling let me tell you. I feel much safer when I’m with you Charlie, you know, what with you being a Protector and everything. You don’t mind if I stay do you?”

“Well, I suppose not, provided you stop whinging all the time.” He nodded his agreement eagerly. “You have a funny idea about what constitutes ‘safe’ though. We were almost troll-fodder last night. In fact, I seem to have become a magnet for weird monsters lately. I was...” I stopped mid-sentence, a sound coming from the long grass to my left had caught my attention. I prayed that it wasn’t yet another of The Professor’s unwanted magical visitors.

“What is it, Charlie?” asked Ophelia.

“Ssshh!” I replied.

“Ooreebah!”

There it was again. A weird, gurgly cry. The closest thing I could have compared it to was the call of a young chick, but at the same time it was in some way distinctly different from the call of any bird I had ever heard before.

“Ooreebah!”

As I got closer I realised that the sound was not coming from the long grass at all, but from the patch of daisies that lay before it. I crawled gently over to where the sound was coming from on my hands and knees, tenderly parting the tiny flowers with my fingers so as not to further harm any bird that I might find in amongst them.

“Ooreebah!”

I could say with some certainty that the creature the strange noises emanating from was certainly no bird. I could not though, have said what it was. It was quite the oddest looking thing I had yet seen during my time in the forest (which was really saying something). It’s fragile body, while human in shape, was more stegosaurus-like in substance and stature, making it look like some sort of armoured, mutant super hero who appeared as though it should walk on all fours. On top of its long and bendy neck sat a face that was at the simultaneously human, and yet not human at all.

You see, dear reader, while its features were, when examined individually, distinctly reminiscent of mine or yours, their scale upon the face was all wrong; its ears were so small they were practically invisible, yet its eyes, which were a delicious, chocolatey shade of brown, were so oversized as to take up a third of its face. And while its face was generally quite narrow, it had a mouth which literally stretched from ear to ear, with which it smiled up at me without the slightest hint of fear. Even as I scooped the little lady (for it looked somehow like a girl, and I could see no obvious anatomical reason to conclude against such a supposition) up into my hand to get a closer look, it made no move to escape; instead it simply stared at me inquisitively from within my palm - a palm which it did not come close to over-spilling from, for it was a creature so small as to make even the unfathomably tiny Ophelia look to be of distinctly average stature.

“What is it?” asked the dragnor, unable to take his eyes from the adorable little creature.

“I was kind of hoping you might be able to tell me; I’m not exactly an expert with this sort of stuff.”

“I have absolutely no idea,” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Me either,” agreed Ophelia.

“Dadda!” said the tiny creature, smiling up at me with those enormous brown eyes.

Though I didn’t realise it at the time, that moment was one of the most important of my life (and certainly one of the most important of this story). It was a moment that changed how I felt about the world of magic, about my powers, about everything really. As I looked down upon the innocent infant that had chosen me to be its protector in life, I realised how selfishly I had acted since discovering my gifts. I mean, most children would give their right arm to find out that there was more to life than school, and early bedtimes, and learning to be a grown up; to learn that the stories they were told, the games the played, the dreams they dreamt, were all based firmly within reality. I had somehow stumbled upon the existence of a secret, enchanted world outside of the one grown-ups talked about at school and on the news, a world that made the existence of fairies, and ogres, and whatever the cute little thing lay in my hand a reality. It was a world that had to be worth saving. And, whether I liked it or not, I had been assigned the duty of saving it. It was all down to me. I could either let the little lady I held in my hand perish, along with all the other wonderous and innocent creatures I had met in the last forty-eight hours, or I could embrace the gifts I had been given and do my very best to protect those who needed my protection.

It wasn’t much of a choice really. If I really was a Protector, then saving this forest was what I was born to do. I was just going to have to grow up fast and rise to the challenge, even if that meant putting my destiny before my dog. Besides, I reassured myself, I was just as likely to find Baskerville by following my destiny as I was by randomly scouring the epic forest alone.

“Right you guys, let’s get moving,” I said, delicately placing the minute orphan into the breast pocket parallel to the one inhabited by Ophelia. “We’ve got a forest to save, and only eleven hours and twenty-seven minutes in which to do it.”

A beaming smile spread across Ophelia’s tiny, porcelain face. “That’s the spirit. I knew you were a hero.”

“That’s all very nice,” said Grahndel, sarcastically, “But where exactly is it you are suggesting we go?”

I stopped putting on my backpack, turned to him and answered, with a raised eyebrow and steady voice that I hoped exuded confidence and authority; “To find Raymondo.”

I explained to my companions how Raymondo had been among the first to be aware of Blackheart’s presence within the forest, and so maybe he would have more idea of what was going on. They were clearly inspired by my plan. This was partly because, as they informed me, The Great Raymondo was widely revered as the wisest creature in all of Hanselwood forest, and partly because it was the only plan we had.

And so I lead our unlikely band of heroes through the forest toward our destiny. A new-found determination hung in the air, a feeling of belief in ourselves and in my leadership. A feeling I fear I spoiled somewhat when, after at least ten minutes of determined marching, I thought to question my companions as to where we might find this Raymondo character.

“You mean you don’t know?” sighed the dragnor.

“Well...no,” I admitted. “I just sort of assumed you guys would know, I thought
The Great Raymondo
would be quite famous within the forest.”

“He is,” Ophelia confirmed. “He’s famous for his reclusiveness. He lives in a location so secret, that no magical being has the slightest clue as to where it might be. Not even Aurelius. Very few Alundri have ever even seen him.”

“But why is he so secretive?”

“Because he’s a genie, stupid. Genies have to grant the wishes of those who speak them aloud in their presence. It really is a terrible curse. Rumour has it that as a young genie, Raymondo granted a wish that greatly helped The Professor in his pursuit of power. It wasn’t his fault of course, it’s in his nature, but that fact has done nothing to ease his guilt. He has been in hiding ever since, communicating with the outside world only through the animals which are his sole companions.”

The princess’s words rang a bell somewhere in the back of my mind and I vaguely remembered that, in amongst the encyclopaedia of magical knowledge Aurelius had bestowed upon me, he had said something about wishes having to be spoken to be granted and animals only being able to communicate with Alundri telepathically. I confirmed this with Ophelia.

“And so the only way to find Raymondo would be to ‘ask’ some animals if they know where he lives?”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” she replied. “Although we may have trouble convincing them to give up such important information; Raymondo’s subjects are very loyal.”

“Can you do it then? Speak to animals I mean.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Great,” said Grahndel. “So none only animals know where this genie is and none of us know how to ask them. How exactly are we supposed to find him them?”

The dragnor’s question was a good one and it brought with it a period of uncomfortable silence. I could feel our new-found buoyancy sinking fast in the face of such an immediate setback. As leader, I was under pressure to find a gem of hope with which to lift our spirits once again. This was no easy task; in truth I have always aired on the side of pessimism, even as a child, and I had never been good at thinking under pressure – exams had always been a nightmare for me.

This is different.
I told myself.
You’re not just a spoiled little child anymore, you’re a Protector, a leader. You’ve survived a night in the forest on your own, without so much as a tent, and you’ve evaded trolls and gravliers in the process; surely you’re not going to be beaten by a game of hide and seek?

“Rain!” I yelled, breaking my miserable, contemplative silence.

“Oh great,” whinged the dragnor, looking toward the sky. “Wet weather and slippery, muddy pathways, that’s all we need!”

“No,” I explained. “I don’t mean it’s raining, I mean
Rain,
the tree elf. She was the one who Raymondo used his bat friend to contact. Maybe she’d know where he lives.”

“It’s worth a go,” said Ophelia. “But do you know where we can find Rain?”

“No,” I admitted dejectedly as I watched a second consecutive plan of mine fail before it had begun. But then, just as I was beginning to question my qualities as a leader, Grahndel piped up with two words that immediately caused such questions to melt away;

“I do.”

***

As it turned out, the gruff, grumpy little demon, who liked nothing better than solitude and making other creature’s lives miserable, had the fragile heart of a besotted schoolgirl when it came to women. Well, one woman in particular actually. As he stammeringly informed us through a face that went rapidly from its usual shade of purple to a deep crimson with embarrassment, Grahndel had for some time now, held quite a crush on Rain. He told us of how he would spend many an hour admiring her from afar as she flitted and danced about her day (for, as everybody knows, tree elves flit and dance wherever they go), imagining what it would be like to talk to a thing of such beauty, without ever being able to summon the courage to actually do so.

Ophelia and I did our best not to laugh as the dragnor, who had always acted so tough, poured his heart out as if he were in therapy. And once he had started, he just couldn’t seem to stop. By the time he finished he had informed us of any number of embarrassing personal details about himself and his childhood that would take too long to list now, but which were highly amusing to hear from someone who took themselves so seriously.

“..and so from then on, I just had to learn to wipe my own bottom.” He finished finally, with tears in his eyes.

“Right... how terrible,” I interjected before he could move on to another story, for I was quite certain Ophelia and I would not be able to hold back our laughter any longer. “So, er, where exactly is it that we might find Rain then?”

“Oh yes, of course,” he said, sniffing back the tears and puffing out his chest as he remembered why it was he had begun his tale in the first place. “It’s this way.”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I enquired.

Upon reaching what seemed to me a decidedly unremarkable clearing, wholly indistinguishable from any of the other of the forest’s many clearings to my human eyes, Grahndel had suddenly announced that we had arrived.

“Great,” I said, a little dubiously as I scanned the surrounding area for a hidden entrance to the home of the tree elves. Needless to say I didn’t find one, but I supposed that that really was the point of hidden entrances. “So how do we get in?”

“In?” said the dragnor. “In where?”

“Into the tree elves lair, of course.”

“How on earth should I know?”

“What do you mean? You told us you were taking us to where Rain lived!”

“I said no such thing. What I said was that I knew where to find her.”

He had a point, and, more importantly, we had no better plan. We had already spent an hour getting here, it couldn’t hurt to spend a few minutes looking around.

***

“Are you
sure
this is the right place?” I asked after more than an hour of aimless wandering.

“Of course I’m sure, I’ve been coming here every day for months,” he replied indignantly.

“Right,” Ophelia interjected, “And exactly how long do you normally have to wait, hidden in your little bush, before she actually arrives.”

“Oh, usually not long – not more than three or four hours on a good day.”

Ophelia and I sighed in unison.

“And on a bad day?” I asked, fearing that I did not really want to know the answer.

“Well, that depends...Do you mean a bad day when she actually turns up?”

“You mean to tell me that on some days you spend your entire day just sitting here with nothing happening, and then you just go home?!” I demanded, the agitation in my voice obvious for all to hear.

“Well...yes,” he replied.

“Oh my... You’ve been spying on this girl for months and you don’t even know where she lives? You’re the worst stalker ever!”

“So we’re just supposed to wait here and hope that Rain arrives at some point in between now and midnight?” the fairy princess added. “Great plan, Grahndel.”

“Well I didn’t hear either of you coming up with anything better.”

At that moment our futile bickering was interrupted by a familiar but unexpected sound – the sound of thundering hooves. I froze with fear. The instant cessation of Ophelia’s usually constantly flapping wings against my chest told me she had done the same. Grahndel, taking quite the opposite approach, leapt from his position in my rucksack and moved faster than I had ever seen any creature move before, taking sanctuary behind a large oak. Something was coming our way. Something big. I stared all around, anxiously waiting for whatever new beast was making such a sound to arrive. I did not have to wait long. A moment or so later, out of the dense foliage across the clearing from us, emerged a creature that even many unusual encounters with the inhabitants of fairytales thus far had failed to prepare me for; a dinosaur.

Admittedly, it was a very small dinosaur, no taller than your average Labrador (if a great deal bulkier), but, its presence before me came as a great shock nonetheless. Perhaps more surprising though, was no wild beast left to roam the forest, but a tamed workhorse used to provide transportation for its two, odd-looking riders.

At the beast’s reigns sat a squat, bearded, flame-haired little man, adorned with the finest silks and two bulky satchels. At his back sat a creature whose appearance was almost impossible to describe to anybody who had witnessed it for themselves. The closest thing I could compare it to would be a mole, although, in truth, it looked like no mole I had ever seen. While it had similar claws and snout to a mole, it was at least five times as large, and its enormous, deeply black eyes suggested it would not suffer from blindness. The key difference though, was its fur, which looked as though it had been woven from the finest blue velvet and showed no signs that it had ever spent time rubbing against narrow, dirt-filled underground corridors.

“I say, you there, what is your name?” asked the ginger man, pointing an accusatory finger at me as he did so.

“I’m Charlie,” I replied in a voice that deliberately failed to hide my pleasure at the little man’s rudeness.

“Not you, you fool. The little fairy hiding in your pocket. What is your name, woman?”

I awaited the princess’s staunch reply at being referred to as ‘woman’, but, to my surprise it did not come. Indeed she sounded distinctly meek as she answered the rude little man’s request.

“Would that be princess Ophelia, of the Yangloloo fairy tribe?”

“Yes.”

“Ha, I have found you. The hunter Aginon succeeds once more,” with this the man paused to pull from one of his satchels a large, ancient-looking book. After flicking through the pages for several moments, he began to read;

“Princess Ophelia, The Council for the Protection of the Secret of Magic hereby finds you guilty of consulting with a human child, and revealing to said child the existence of magic. The sentence for such a crime is...” another long pause ensued whilst Aginon flicked through the pages of the great volume once more, before confirming Ophelia’s fate with a single word; “...death.”

“Noooo!” cried Ophelia from within my pocket.

“You’re damn right,
No
,” I yelled. “Listen Mr, if you think I’m going to let you murder my friend then you are sadly mistaken! Who do you think you are?”

“I do not
think
that I am anybody. I
know
that I am Aginon, Arch General of the Woolago Dwarves, Senior Adviser to The Council for the Protection of the Secret of Magic, and Treasurer of Flinstanbury Minature Golf Society. And who, might I ask, are you?”

“My name is Charles Asmodious Crumplebum, Protector.”

“A Protector you say? Well, that would change things entirely, allow me to consult my list.” With this the dwarf reached into a second satchel and withdrew from it an enormously long sheet of parchment which had been folded many times. “Now, let me see...Crumstenfeld, Crumblewart, Crumplecheese, nope, I don’t have a crumplebum on my list.”

“Then your list must be mistaken.”

“How dare you!” spat the dwarf with a look on his face that suggested I had just insulted his mother. “The list is sacred. It is ancient, and comes from some of the very first council members. The list is the truth, it is never wrong.”

“Perhaps his time it may be,” said the odd-looking creature who sat behind the dwarf. Its voice was one of the strangest I had yet heard, and caused the watch on my wrist to burn furiously.

Aginon turned to face the creature with an unimpressed but deferntial look upon his face, and began to plead with it in hushed tones.

“But, oh great one, the list has never been wrong before. It is what we rely on. Without we are lost.”

“Then perhaps it is time we learned to rely on ourselves. The boy is clearly one of great power, I can smell it. He is either a Protector or a fellow alundri, either way the fairy has committed no crime and the charges must be relinquished.”

“Could you not be mistaken, oh mighty leader? There are, after all, a great many highly powerful magical creatures within this forest.”