Aurelius and I (5 page)

“Well, er, yes, I suppose so,” I replied. Caught off guard and made to feel guilty by such a reasonable and apologetically framed response as I was, I could find no good reason to refuse such a request.

“Excellent! Excellent!” smiled Aurelius, and with that he brushed past me and half walked, half danced off into the forest, turning and beckoning for me to follow.

“Is this a shortcut?” I asked after several minutes of silently trudging behind Aurelius through ever-thickening undergrowth.

“Well, that would depend on where one were trying to go,” he replied without a hint of sarcasm.

“Er, the supermarket?”

“The supermarket!?!” Aurelius repeated as if I had just suggested that we pop down to Hades to pick up a flayed puppy for dinner. “What on earth should we want to go to the supermarket for?”

“To buy food? For your supper?” I ventured, knowing this to be incorrect, but having no clue as to why.

“My dear boy, look around you. We are walking in a richly-packed carnival of the most delicious, natural sources of food imaginable, and it’s all free. Why anyone would seek to travel through such a place in order to purchase sub-standard, chemically treated, week-old food products wholly bewilders me.” I decided to say nothing in reply, but silently prayed that I wasn’t going to have to watch my new companion kill anything.

“Now,” said Aurelius, pulling some brambles aside so that I could pass through, “I suppose it’s about time we began dealing with your enquiries. It would probably be most efficient if you told me what you’ve learned already so that I may seek to fill in the gaps – we have more than enough to cover without my repeating information of which you are already aware.”

While Aurelius’s request made sense, I was wary of giving away too many sensitive facts to a man I was unsure of whether I could trust. As a result I told him exactly what my grandmother had told me, but left out any personal details about my family or how I had come by the information. Aurelius did not ask. When I had finished talking he simply began answering my earlier questions, just as he had promised.

“Well, Charlie, as you know, you are a Protector. And you are quite right in your deduction that my running into you was no coincidence, but that I had, in fact, deliberately sought you out. The reason for me doing so is as follows; I, Charlie, am an Arensii. A Guardian.”

“What’s the difference between a Guardian and a Protector?” I asked, ducking under some low branches as we continued in our unnecessarily complex quest to procure Aurelius’s supper.

“Oh, there are many,” the lanky Arensii replied, chuckling to himself a little. “More differences than one could hope to list in a lifetime. The main difference though, is that it is the job the Arensii to protect magical beings from harm - whether that harm be from magic or otherwise – sort of like a diplomat. Protectors on the other hand are primarily concerned with stopping humans from learning the secret of magic, and protecting the welfare of all Alundri from the threat posed by humanity.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, although in truth I remained more than a little confused.

“Of course, I suppose the other obvious difference,” Aurelius continued without appearing to have noticed me open my mouth, “is that Protectors are human.”

“Of course, well... no, sorry, what?” I asked, suddenly comprehending what I was being told. “Do you mean to tell me that you are not human?”

“Human? Me? Well of course I’m not a human! How terribly insulting! How could anybody ever think such a revolting thought?”

“I, I’m sorry,” I stammered, more than a little shocked by the response my question had received.

I studied the man before me. He certainly looked human. A little tall, yes. Skinny, certainly. But definitely human. Indeed, if his dress sense had not been so ridiculous, Aurelius-Octavius Jumbleberry-Jones could have passed you in the street a hundred times without you noticing him. Except that, somehow, that wasn’t quite true. Even if you stripped away the purple velvet hat, and the long pointy shoes and replaced the patchwork coat with the non-descript, dark suit of an insurance salesman, Aurelius would still have been somehow... different. It is wholly impossible for me explain what about him would look different to anybody who had never seen Aurelius. His nose was big, but there were certainly bigger noses in the world. His hair was a rare and rampant red, but its colour was not unique. Everything about Aurelius was slightly abnormal, but remained well within the boundaries of acceptably odd. It was simply as if every single one of his features was in some way..., over-pronounced.

“So, if you’re not human,” I asked cautiously, not wishing to offend my companion any further – particularly as we had been walking for so long now that I was quite sure I would never find my way out the immense forest alone, “then what exactly are you?”

“What am I? Why I’m a fernator, of course.”

“A what?”

“A fernator,” he repeated. “Don’t worry if you’ve never heard of us, the truth is that few humans have. We’re a fairly rare breed, and we generally like to keep ourselves to ourselves, not like those publicity seeking fairies, with their desperate need to play a leading role in every children’s story ever told. No, we Fernators avoid the limelight. We just get on with our jobs, and try to stay out of trouble.”

“And your job is to look after the Forest?”

“That’s right. Of course, we fernators are ideally suited to such a task, what with us being able to understand the feelings of plants and trees.”

“Plants and trees have feelings?”

“Well of course they do, Charlie. All living things have feelings, it’s just that we can’t all understand each other, that’s all. It is a great pity actually; there would be a lot less problems in the world if we did, let me tell you.”

“But, how do you know what they’re feeling?”

“Why they tell me of course!”

“I don’t understand, how can they tell you anything? They don’t even have mouths!”

“Well, no, but then they do not tell me with their mouths, just as I do not hear them with my ears?”

“What an on earth do you hear them with then?” I exclaimed, wholly perplexed.

“Do you know I haven’t a clue? Their voice just sort of
appears
in my mind, I’ve no idea as to how. I’d really never thought to question it before! There goes that bright young mind of yours again, Charlie, working its magic.”

The truth though, was that my supposedly bright young mind was having a great deal of trouble processing so much new information in such a short space of time, and I could not help but voice my doubts.

“You’re having me on,” I said, stopping in my tracks with my hands on my hips, stubbornly refusing to believe any more of this man’s nonsense. “There’s no way you can talk to plants, I mean, plants just don’t talk, everybody knows that. What would they even say if they did? ‘Hi there Mr Oak, how’s life standing perfectly still in the exact same spot for hundreds of years? Well, it’s pretty dull actually, Mr Sycamore, but thank you for asking.’”

“Oh, if only their minds were so simple, Charlie, it would certainly make my job a great deal easier. Plants though, are notorious worriers, always finding something to concern themselves over. Take your mother’s Yucca plant for instance; he’s been terribly concerned recently at the age certifications on the horror movies you’ve been watching when your parents have been out.”

“My mum’s Yucca plant knows about what I watch on television?”

“Knows and disapproves, Charlie. I shouldn’t worry yourself about it too much though, Yuccas can be a terribly judgemental lot.”

“So you’re saying you’ve actually been to my house and spoken to my mother’s plants?”

“Well of course not, my boy, such a thing would be a gross invasion of privacy... it would never cross my mind. Unfortunately, Yuccas do not feel the same way, they are the most insatiable gossips, and one can’t help but pick things up on the grapevine – well, the tomato vine to be precise – especially when they’re things about somebody as important as you, Charlie.”

“What do you mean
as important as me
? I’m just a boy, what can I do?
You’re
the powerful magical creature. It’s
your
job it is to protect the forest. What could you possibly need me for?”

“I... no, the forest... no, the entire magical community needs you, Charlie, because we are all facing a new threat. A threat more dangerous than any threat the magical community has faced before. The threat of Professor Balzanfjorrd.”

Now, I feel I should warn you at this point, dear reader, that things are about to get a little scarier than they have so far been – not bed-wettingly scary I hope, and certainly not as terrifying as they will become later on, but scary nonetheless. I’m afraid this simply cannot be helped, for Professor Balzanfjorrd (whom, for the benefit of those of you reading this who are not blessed with a Scandinavian accent, shall henceforth be referred to as “The Professor” wherever possible) is a particularly scary individual. So, before reading on, I suggest that you may want to snuggle a little closer to your mother, or your father, or your older sibling, or whichever other kind individual you have managed to cajole into reading this book to you. If, however, you are old enough and brave enough to be reading it alone, then I suggest you cling on to a cuddly toy or the family dog for comfort. It’s okay, nobody’s watching. Go on. That’s better isn’t it? Good. Now, if you feel yourself to be suitably prepared, let us continue.

“As is the case in all things throughout life, in order to properly understand the situation of the present, one must properly understand the past,” Aurelius continued, ceasing his incessant berry picking in order to imbue the information he was about to convey to me with the sense of significance it deserved. “You said that you already knew about the fact that some magical creatures wanted to destroy the humans and others sought to co-operate, but all agreed to go into hiding regardless, is that correct?”

“Correct,” I confirmed.

“Excellent! Excellent! Then we have already a foundation upon which to build our knowledge. It is true that the magical community became divided into those who sought co-operation – The Tendrala (meaning, the light), and those who sought retribution – The Tundrala (the dark). Now, these groups were not split exactly as the stereotypes would lead you to imagine; Trolls, for example, are, despite their reputation, generally a very amicable race who seek only peace and quiet and perhaps the curried turnip, whereas mermaids, on the other hand, can’t stand humans as a rule, and are liable to resort to the vilest of trickery in order to bring them to harm.

“Now, before I go on, I feel it is important for me not to present my own prejudices and stereotypes as facts. All magical creatures are individuals - indeed, it could be argued that those with more than one head constitute multiple individuals - and all are ultimately capable of making their own choices about what they believe to constitute right and wrong. I have met many a sadistic troll in my time, turned against humans by their persistent spreading of nasty rumours such as the fact that trolls eat live goats, when everybody knows that trolls are strict vegetarians whose stomachs would explode in a shower of blue puss if they ever encountered the most miniscule scrap of meat. Equally, I’m sure there are some friendly, helpful mermaids out there somewhere, even if I myself have never met one, nor come across anyone else who has. That is not to say they don’t exist.

“Anyway, this was how things have stood for centuries, a kind of tense, but peaceful standoff between The Tendrala, The Tundrala and the humans. In recent years however, things have begun to change. Boundaries have become blurred, lines have been crossed, and peace becomes less stable with every passing day.”

“Because of this Professor Balzan..., Balzanfj...,” I interjected, struggling to pronounce the name even though I remembered it perfectly in my head.

“Balzanfjoord. Professor Melvin Diabolous Balzanfjoord. A name to strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest of men. Or women. Or indeed fernators.”

“Melvin?” I asked, barely able to contain my laughter. “The whole world is frightened of man named Melvin?”

“You may laugh now, dear boy,” said Aurelius in a serious tone, “but I assure you that you will not be laughing when it is
your
fingers he turns to stone before snapping them off one by one. No, it will not be so funny when he wears
your
mother’s ear as a necklace. Or when it is
you
that is forced to try to outrun a stream of fast-flowing lava for the entertainment of The Professor’s dinner guests. Or when...”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” I said, suddenly not feeling quite so amused.

“Good. One should never judge a person by their name, I thought you, Charlie Crumplebum, of all people would understand that.”

I hung my head in shame, Aurelius was right of course.

“Anyway, as I was saying, in recent years the stand-off between the humans and the Alundri has become more tense. You see, while the Alundri population has always remained around the same in number, the human population has grown exponentially – and seems only likely to continue doing so. This has made things much more difficult for the Alundri to simply avoid humans by living in remote locations, seeing as every habitable region of the earth is gradually being overtaken by the humans as they spread out in order to find more space for themselves. As a result, many Alundri have had to change their living arrangements entirely. For those of us lucky enough to pass as human to the untrained eye, such as witches and wizards for example, it is possible to gain normal employment and live in normal neighbourhoods just like your own.”