Aurelius and I (20 page)

“No he is not mistaken,” I interrupted angrily. “I’m a Protector, and Ophelia knew it when she spoke to me. Why else would she have done so? You’re just upset that your stupid little list is wrong. Why don’t you just get over it and let us go?”

The dwarf stared back at me with open mouths. It was a reaction that both satisfied and surprised me, since I had not expected my harsh words to have proven so shocking to him, but remained deeply pleased that they had. When he spoke his response though, I realised that it was not my insults which had so astounded him.

“You speak Snarfwitzel?” he said in disbelief. “How can that be? Nobody speaks Snarfwitzel. It is the most complicated language in all the world. Even great Alundi scholars like myself must spend decades studying it before being able to speak it so fluently, and yet you are just a boy and you are speaking it as if it were your mother tongue.”

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed. I thought I was still speaking English. I do that sometimes. I seem to have developed an ability to speak all languages.”

“
All
languages?” Aginon repeated incredulously.

“Yes, well, I can’t understand animals, but I don’t think they have language in the same way we do.” At this the strange creature known as a snarfwitzel interrupted his colleague;

“Protector not, Aginon, this boy is clearly no human – the charges against the fairy must be dropped.”

“But sire...” the dwarf replied loudly before remembering once more that I was able to understand all that he said, and reducing his voice to the most inaudible whisper.

“What’s going on, Charlie?” Ophelia asked in an uncertain voice that hinted that she was having trouble holding back tears. I had become so immersed in my arguments with the council members that I had wholly forgotten that I had conducted these arguments in a language which my fairy friend would have been unable to grasp.

“Oh, right, sorry,” I said. “They say that because I’m magic you haven’t actually broken any rules and so they’re not going to have to kill you afterall.”

A visible wave of relief rolled across the young princess. “Thankyou Charlie,” she said, finally allowing the tears to escape from her almond eyes.

“Hey, don’t thank me, I didn’t really do anything.”

“Of course you did, you showed them that you are magic, that you can speak all languages. You proved that you are a Protector.”

“I’m not too sure about that actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it’s me,” I whispered. “Who’s doing all the translating. I think it’s the watch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s the watch, it used to belong to my grandfather, who was a great wizard. I think he put some sort of spell on the watch that makes it translate. I don’t think it has anything to do with me at all.”

“Please don’t tell them that, for my sake!” the little fairy exclaimed.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I reassured her.

“Ahmm,” Aginon coughed rudely in order to gain our attention. The, speaking in English once more, he continued; “The Council has reached a decision – due to the fact that the human has turned out to hold magical powers, the fairy’s sentence is hereby rescinded.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” Ophelia shrieked gleefully.

“Let this be a warning to you however, to be careful about with whom you choose to consort in the future. You have caused The Council much distress, and taken the attentions of one o its most important members, Ramiphisto the Sanrfwitzel, at a time of great danger for all Alundri.”

“Are you talking about the Professor?”

“How do you know of The Professor, child?” asked Ramiphisto.

“My grandmother told me about him, my grandfather went missing trying to stop him many years ago, and now Captain Blackheart is here in the forest, though we have no idea why, but whatever his plan is, I intend to be the one to stop it.”

“That is very brave of you, child,” replied the snarfwitzel, “but you must be careful. I sense a power of great evil in this place, a power much stronger than that of Blackheart alone. You will need great luck and even greater courage if you are to defeat it alone.”

“Is there anything you can do to help us?”

“I’m afraid not, the council is sworn to remain neutral in all conflicts, its job is only to protect magic’s secret, not to favour one side or the other.”

“Well can you at least tell us where we might find the genie, Raymondo?”

“Raymondo? I haven’t heard such a name in many years. I thought he may have perished. He always used to reside near the river, about a mile or so north of here, but more than that I could not tell you.”

“Thank you,” I said. “At least we have an idea of where to begin our quest.”

“And it is a quest I wish you great fortune with, for I sense that a great many lives may depend on it. For now though, Aginon and I must return to the council and aid them in their own investigations. Good luck, Charles. May the spirit of the elders be with you.”

And, with that, the strange little threesome rode of into the forest the same way that they had arrived and I was left feeling grateful that I had not been the only one to have born witness to their presence, for if I had I would surely have doubted whether their brief but surreal visit had actually occurred.

“Is it safe?” asked Grahndel, moving tentatively out from behind the tree.

“No thanks to you, you coward!” replied Ophelia.

“I’m the coward? I wasn’t the one crying like...well, like a girl.”

“No, you ran before you had the chance.”

“And you would have to had you had the brains.”

“GUYS!” I interrupted. “Can we please stop bickering and get on with our mission, time is running out fast.”

“And how, exactly, do you suggest we do that? We have no idea as to where we are going.”

“Oh yes we do, we’re heading North,” I replied with a confident smile.

“Why North, Charlie?” asked Ophelia.

“Because North is part of the plan, call it Protector’s instinct.”

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Grahndel asked.

“Of course he’s sure!” snapped Ophelia. “He is a Protector you know!”

In truth, I was far from sure of either our direction or my own magical status. We had been walking for almost an hour and, although our progress had admittedly been hampered by Grahndel’s insistence on making the journey on foot after claiming that he was ‘sweatier than an ogre’s underpants’ in my rucksack, we should still have covered a mile by now. Despite this though, could see no sign of anything that might have been an entrance to a secret lair – which I suppose was the point of secret lairs.

“Why don’t we get a drink?” I suggested in order to dodge the question. “My grandmother always says that the mind works best when fully hydrated.”

“Actually,” said Grahndel, “dragnors don’t drink a great deal. Liquids just don’t really tend to agree with us... as you may already have noticed. I could really do with something to eat though, I’m starving.”

“Yes, well I’m afraid I don’t carry a regular supply of bat dung around with me, but I trust you won’t mind if Ophelia and myself slake our thirst briefly.”

Whilst I had not lied about the importance of proper hydration, I suspected that it was perhaps over-optimistic to imagine that a quick swig from my water bottle would truly enable the brainwave that would enable us to locate a genie, who was seemingly the all-time hide-and-seek champion of the alundri world, in an epic forest. Nevertheless I reached into my rucksack for the water.

“Grahndel!” I moaned, holding the pierced and now empty bottle before me.

“What?” he asked. “What did I do? You don’t know that was me!”

“Well you’re the only one who was in there. And you’re the only one who has two big, spiky tails, and you are the only one who came out of the bag soaking wet.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Sorry. Still, it’s a relief in a way, I mean I never normally sweat that much, I was worried I might be coming down with a cold or something.”

“Oh, well that’s a wait off my mind, then. Now I can die of thirst, happy in the knowledge that you aren’t going to end up with a nasty case of the sniffles. Thank goodness for that.”

“It’s okay,” said Ophelia. “Nobody needs to die, I know where we can find water, not too far from here.”

“Then, please, lead the way before I murder that little bogey-muncher.”

***

It turned out that when Ophelia had said that the water was ‘not too far’ away, she had meant it, and had in fact been referring to a stream that was so near by that we could hear it running at almost the instant we had begun on our journey towards it. In hindsight, this was a very lucky thing indeed, because, with the immensely slow Ophelia leading the way, we would surely have died of dehydration before reaching any but the most immediate of water supplies.

The stream was both narrow and shallow, but, nevertheless, the water travelled through it at a great speed as it eagerly continued on its journey toward the river. And to a thirsty young boy, it looked irresistibly good. So much so that, upon seeing it, I instantly pushed my way past my two companions and began greedily lapping at the water’s edge.

“Yeeuughh!”

Allow me to reassure you, dear reader, whilst the idea of being at one with nature and drinking from a stream may seem romantic when read in fairytales and viewed in olde-worlde films, the reality is quite different. In the modern, corporeal world, stream water tastes dirty and metallic, a fact which, when properly considered without the use of rose-tinted spectacles, should come as no surprise, given that most streams today are full of dirt and discarded drinks cans. After a few greedy gulps I promptly spat the foul-tasting liquid back into the stream from whence it had come.

“Are you okay, Charlie?” Ophelia asked, looking concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine thank you. Just went down the wrong hole, that’s all,” I lied, not wanting to hurt her feelings. But she continued to watch me and so, smiling, I took another gulp of the almost-certainly-disease-ridden water and swallowed it down, waiting until she resumed her own drinking before allowing the scowl of unpleasantness to cross my face.

“So what’s phase two of the plan?” Ophelia enquired once her thirst had been quenched.

“Well...” I hesitated, knowing that I was out of options and that I was going to have to admit that there was no plan, but remaining desperately unwilling to do so. Fortunately though, my confession was once more delayed, this time by the distant yells of an angry demon.

“Oi!” came the voice from over the other side of the stream. “Oi, wake up!”

I returned Ophelia to her place in my shirt pocket and crossed the stream. On rounding a tall patch of brambles I was confronted with the bizarre sight of the livid Grahndel yelling up into the branches of a nearby sycamore.

“What on earth are you doing?” I enquired.

“I won’t be ignored,” he said to me before turning his head back toward the tree tops and yelling; “Hey you, I know you can hear me. Just poop would you? You know you want to! Just a little bit of poop, what difference does it make to you? Come on, do it. I know you can hear me.”

“Maybe he’s already been?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Right, that’s it,” the dragnor said, picking up a small pebble from the forest floor. “I’ve had enough. I’m hungry, I’m miserable, and don’t like being ignored.” And with that, he hurled the pebble toward the sleeping bat with surprising force for someone with such short arms.

The startled bat made a terrible hissing sound as it plummeted from its perch having been awoken by the unprovoked missile attack. When it had fallen half way to the floor though, it managed to instinctively gather itself and begin to fly as fast as it was able away from the tree – without pooping.

“Hey you, come back here!” Grahndel yelled, before tearing off in pursuit of the bat in a sudden flash of lightning quick speed that was at least a hundred times faster than his normal walk.

Indeed, his new-found speed, combined with his far superior dexterity over an awkward terrain ridden with roots and brambles and stinging nettles meant that Grahndel progressed through this part of the woods decidedly quicker than I could manage in spite of my vastly larger footsteps, so much so that I quickly lost sight of him.

“Grahndel, wait!” I yelled in vain as Ophelia and I continued in our pursuit. But we received no answer, for the hungry dragnor no longer cared about anything but his own belly. Indeed, were it not for the trail of trodden down ferns and tiny hoof-prints, we surely would have lost him altogether. But then the terrain became clearer, and grassier, and the trail we had been following disappeared. Trying not to panic I continued in a straight line, hoping that the bat and its hungry, purple pursuer had done the same. After ten minutes however, I was ready to give up.

“We should have caught him by now,” I said.

“Maybe he went a different way?” Ophelia pondered.

“But which?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe we should wait for him back at the stream, he might go back there once he’s eaten.”