Aurelius and I (4 page)

I didn’t think so either. I was suddenly becoming very suspicious of Aurelius-Octavius Jumbleberry-Jones. Or maybe it was more a case of my attentions being drawn to suspicions I had already harboured somewhere inside myself.

“But what would Aurelius want with me?” I asked.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you that for certain, Charlie. But I think I could hazard a pretty good guess.” She stopped, sighed, and took a sip of her coffee while she gathered her thoughts. When she began to speak again her voice was softer than it had been before and seemed tinged with sadness and regret.

“Charlie, I am afraid that I have not always been entirely honest with you before now. Despite what I may have led you to believe, I have not told you all I know about magic. More importantly, I have not told you
how
I know what I know.” She stopped and sighed again before sitting silently for several moments. “Charlie, the truth is that I am a Protector. And I believe that you are one too.”

***

And so dear reader, as promised, I shall now reveal to you what a protector is and why such a thing should matter. I shall try to explain it in the exact way that it was explained to me. I fully realise that such a concept will be much easier to believe for any of you who have healed sick animals with your bare hands or witnessed any other apparent miracles in the past. As for the rest of you, I have no doubt that the following information may appear to be fictional in nature, but I assure you that you only feel this way because that is what the world wants you to believe. All I ask of you is that you keep an open mind as you peruse the following pages.

***

Of course, my first question to my Grandmother had been to ask what exactly a Protector was. Judging from the dramatic way she had released the information that I was one, I imagined it must be something important, and yet I had never heard the term used before – by anybody. She replied that, in order to properly answer my question she would first have to give me a little history lesson. According to my memory, it went something like this...

“Many centuries ago,” the old woman began in her best storytelling voice, “when human beings had made their way out of the caves and had begun to read and write and to form civilisations, the existence of magic and magical creatures was merely an accepted part of life. People feared attacks from giant sea serpents in the same way that they feared severe storms. They worried about the threat of vampires just as much as that of lions or tigers. And there is no need for you to take my word on this, Charlie, tales of fearsome minotaurs and seductive mermaids fill the writings of the time.”

“But, they’re just legends,” I interrupted.

“Oh they are, are they?” she replied with a mischievously raised eyebrow. “Well then, if you’re so certain of that fact, perhaps you could answer me this; Why is it that a tale of ancient warriors battling the undead written two thousand years ago is labelled a myth or a legend, but a story about a king and his armies written two hundred years ago is labelled history?”

“Well...” I began, but before my still developing mind could begin to formulate an answer I was cut off by further questions.

“What makes Henry VIII and his six wives a fact, but Theseus’s defeat of the minotaur a fallacy? Were you present at either event? Was any living person? No. Was either event captured on film? I don’t think so. So what is it that makes one event history and the other legend?”

“Well, er, I’m not sure,” I admitted nervously, while still privately remaining certain that a distinction did exist, even if I, being just eight years of age, was personally incapable of articulating what such a distinction may be.

“No, well, I’ll tell you what the difference is, young man,” my Grandmother continued, her voice growing louder and her speech quicker as she became more and more impassioned. “Absolutely nothing, that’s what! The only difference between those histories that mention magic and those that do not is that the people in charge say it’s okay for you to learn about dull, human history, but seek to hide from the world the plain fact of magic and the supernatural.”

“What people in charge?” I asked.

“What people in charge!” the old gypsy exclaimed, louder than ever. “What do you mean what people in charge?
The
people in charge, of course! The Government.”

“The government know about magic?”

“Well of course they do – the government know about everything. You don’t seriously think that they could have all those spies, and cameras, and listening devices, and yet never detect any information pertaining to magic do you?”

“Well, I suppose not,” I admitted reluctantly. I always found it difficult to argue with my Grandmother, she had a way of making her arguments appear immensely logical, no matter how loudly my instincts cried to me that they were wrong.

“But why do the government need to keep magic a secret?” I asked. “Why don’t they just tell people that it exists? And, how come they have to, if magic used to be just an accepted fact, why isn’t it any more? What changed?”

“We did, Charlie. Humans changed.” She paused for a moment and took a few sips of her funny-smelling tea before continuing.

“You see, Charlie, human beings have always been afraid of what they don’t understand. Don’t ask me why - it just seems to be in our genes. The more humans began to learn about the workings of the natural world, the more suspicious they became of anything they could not understand or control. As a result, magical beings, many of whom had held important roles in the founding of the early civilisations, were gradually ostracised from societies and labelled as monsters or daemons. They were forced to move away from human communities, out in the wilderness where they could live out there lives without fear of persecution.

“As time went on however, populations grew, cities expanded, and it became less and less possible for magical beings to remain free from the random attacks of angry villagers eager to find a scapegoat for a bad harvest or an outbreak of disease. Eventually, and, in the main, reluctantly, the magical creatures decided that, if they were to survive, they would need to unite and defend themselves against the attacks of the ignorant humans - by force if necessary.

“A war raged for centuries between the magical beings (who were known to each other as ‘The Alundri’, an elfin term meaning ‘the gifted’) and the humans. There was extensive and senseless bloodshed on both sides; the humans would try to rid the entire world of dragons, the dragons would respond by causing great fires destroying crops, farms, and even entire cities (how do you think the great fire of London
really
began?); when the humans began burning witches at the stake, the witches brought great plagues down upon humanity, decimating populations.

“After hundreds of years and millions of lives had fallen by the wayside, a few respected individuals in both communities began to realise that peace and co-existence were the only possible ways of once again achieving safe and happy lives for their members. As a result,
The Council Of The Secret Of Magic
was formed. This consisted of a conglomerate of the most powerful members of all the human and Alundri communities. After many years of difficult negotiation, it was decided that the best way for the two communities to live together side by side was if the ordinary human population were convinced that the Alundri had all been wiped out (and later that they had never existed at all), and for the Alundri to do all that was in their power to support the belief in such an idea.

“Of course, this idea did not sit well with many of the Alundri, who felt that the humans were the ones in the wrong and should therefore be the ones making any sacrifices. Eventually though, even those most opposed to what they saw as surrendering to human needs agreed that going into hiding was the best option available to them, even if they just saw it as a time to regroup and plan a larger, more devastating attack on humanity.

“In any case, it was quickly realised by The Council that there were becoming fewer and fewer locations in the world that were remote enough to avoid contact with humans – a problem that was only likely to get worse in the future as the human population continued to rise exponentially. The solution they came up with was to hide those magical creatures which posed no threat to humans in plain sight. Some, like witches and wizards would be able to do this simply by pretending that they were human beings and living normal human lives. Others, such as fairies and goblins would have to try to use their magic and their cunning in order to avoid detection.

“In order to facilitate those creatures that were to live within human communities, it was decided amongst those on The Council that certain human beings who were known to be sympathetic to the plight of the Alundri should be assigned the role of
Protectors
. These chosen individuals were to be responsible for helping to ensure that the realm of magic continued to hold only mythical status within their own community and to protect magical beings from coming to harm at the hands of other humans. It was decided that these Protectors would have to be imbued with certain magical powers if their task was to be rendered possible.”

“And you really think that I’m a Protector? That I might have magical powers?”

“Yes, Charlie, I do. At least, I can think of no other reasonable explanation as to why you should be able to heal broken bones with your bare hands.”

“But, why me?” I asked, my brain still desperately trying to digest the wealth strange new information it had just received.

“No reason really, it’s genetic that’s all.”

“So you’re telling me that you were a Protector?” I asked, my view of the frail old woman before me being suddenly and radically challenged.

“I still am. I’m just waiting to be called upon if needed.”

“What about mum?”

“Her too I suspect, though she hasn’t been called upon yet, poor love.”

“When am I going to be called upon?” I asked. “And what will I be called upon for?”

“I’m afraid I’m not the person to be able to give you an answer to either of those questions, Charlie, though I have a suspicion you will be needed sooner rather than later. I’m afraid I’ve told you all I know now. I imagine your new friend will be able to tell you more; I suggest you go and find him. But be careful who you trust, Charlie, there are those who would seek to use your ability for their own gain.”

And that, dear reader, has hopefully explained to you what I mean when I say that I am a protector, just as I promised I would do when we began our tale. I realise that there is a strong possibility that, at this point in our narrative, you still believe me to be weaving you a fictional yarn; that all that I am telling you is coming from my imagination rather than from my memory. Well, so be it. I am merely optimistic that a few of you at least are believers in the truth of my tale (and therefore believers also in the truth of magic), and that the rest of you will allow me to continue with my story in the hope that I may yet convince you of its validity.

“What do you want from me?”

Having just had what was probably the most unexpected and bizarre conversation of my young life, I had marched directly to Aurelius’s cottage in order to confront him and get some answers. Within minutes of her finishing her tale I had left my grandmother’s caravan with a purposeful urgency, afraid that time to reflect on what I had learned would only serve to fill me with either fear or disbelief – most likely both. As a result I had had little to formulate the knowledge with which I was now armed into any kind of plan of attack. Though I had spent the entirety of the short walk to the cottage trying to devise the best way of subtly gaining the answers I required while giving away as little as I could about what I knew in the process, when I had actually come to be face to face with Aurelius, nervousness and anger had won out over tact and diplomacy.

“
What do you want from me?
” I yelled once more, having had my initial question met by nothing more than an incredulous stare.

“I assure you that I heard you the first time,” replied Aurelius, his large, crouched frame almost entirely blocking the light that was attempting to escape through his small doorway out into the open forest. “I would however, greatly appreciate it if you would be so kind as to explain the meaning of your question,” he continued in a voice which sounded simultaneously judgemental and offended and instantly diminished my assertiveness.

“I know what I am,” I said, my tone marginally less accusatory, yet still filled with suspicion. I was determined to avoid being befuddled once again by Aurelius’s odd use of language. “I know I’m a Protector. And I know that you know it too. And I know that you deliberately sort me out because of it. What I don’t know is why? Who are you?
What
are you? And what do you want from me?”

“So many questions for one so young,” said Aurelius after a long pause. “Excellent! One can never ask too many questions, especially when one has a growing young mind such as your own. Of course, I shall try to answer each one adequately and honestly, but I’m afraid that doing so may take some time, and I need to gather some supplies for my supper, may I impose upon you to take a walk with me while we discuss your concerns, young sir?”