Magic Parcel (10 page)

They entered now a series of corridors - borings might have been nearer the mark - which could have been caused by some giant passing worm, the sides of which were smooth to the point of glassiness. The floors were still covered by the same universal cork and sawdust, which lay so thickly on the ground that the only noise they could hear was a swish and squeak as they padded along.

There were no adornments to the circular walls except for the occasional strange-looking serpent lanterns casting an eerie soft green light everywhere. He was so entranced by the appearance of it all that he never noticed the transition from the corridor to another, similar, room. In fact, he wasn't even certain there had been a transfer; if there had, the door must have vanished for certainly no door was to be seen anywhere in that room.

He allowed his gaze to wander around the room, jumping from groups of bottles and jars on tables to globes and maps, to other pieces of equipment he didn't recognise at all. His eyes skidded to a halt as they caught sight of a long, low table covered by a white mark-free cloth; and it was there his heart lurched and his breath almost stopped, as a gasp sped from his lungs to explode from his mouth into the room.

Under that sheet lay a body, totally covered to the chin. The skin, white almost to the point of transparency, and the form were those of a boy; eyes fast shut, breathless, still, frozen in that last eternal sleep of death.

It was Tommy.

 

 

 

The night was black; blacker than had been seen for many an age. An occasional wandering chink in the cloud curtain allowed enough light from the intense blue moon to pour onto the rise and fall of the Southern Downs, crowned by the mysterious, ancient standing stones. Smooth, round, hard and black, the stones had been set on the uppermost rise of the range of hills many ages of man before, for what reason no one now knew, save the lore masters and magicians of that realm. Rumour and legend had it that they were part of the magic of old, and had since become a trysting place, a refuge for restless spirits and evil beings. Black they were; blacker than the surrounding gloom, picking them out like a brooding menace in the shadows.

At that moment, the cloud split, wide enough to allow the pent up blue light to cascade to the earth like a released waterfall. The light splashed across the black surface of uprights and crosspieces, gathering all to spotlight the great arch underneath, highlighting a black solitary figure on horseback below.

The Horseman! The Wandering Rider! It was him! Figure of legend, phantom of nightmare, he had come again, as in the past, at a time of greatest strife and need. Why had he come? What would be his course? Steed and man were as one, a great shadow cloaked in black. No covering to his head he wore, only a black flowing mane of hair. Motionless they stood, immobile; statues both but for the slight flicking of the horse's tail.

The last despairing trace of a dying moon splashed desperately across the Rider's head and face revealing that there was no face!

Hair encircled the featureless visage perfectly but neither eyes nor nose nor mouth looked out from this mask of doom, making it all the more terrifying and terrible to behold.

 

 

Suddenly the horse's tail stopped in mid-twitch, the horseman stiffened and half-stood in the stirrups, head slowly turning from side to side. Those acutely sensitive ears had detected something in the upper airs, something which made their whole corporate being bristle with anticipation.

There was a flash of silver spur and a breeze of mystery as the moon disappeared behind a small cloud. When the orb dared to come out of hiding, the great archway between the standing stones was once again empty. Only his presence could be detected, a much darker imprint on the skyline, which was becoming lighter by the minute as morning swiftly approached. His spirit would not again be easily stilled in that age of the world whilst strife was ever present, and often was his rumour to be heard passing as a bird in the night.

 

Tears streaming down his face, Jimmy shuffled across to the motionless, un-breathing body of his brother. Near the table, tentatively he stretched out his hand towards the white covering shroud, but involuntarily shrank away before touching it. His hand fell, lifeless, to his side, and his shoulders slumped in resignation, as slow, quiet sobs convulsed his small frame.

“Why are you weeping?” rumbled the magician, an arm around the heaving shoulders.

“My brother ... Tommy ... he's ...” sobbed Jimmy, overcome at last.

“But,” Algan interrupted, “there is no need; see, the nostrils. Watch.”

Jimmy's eyes became riveted to the lifeless form before him. At first nothing. He could see nothing but the distortions caused by the tears filling his eyes. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, as the tears dried and left his vision clearer, he thought he detected a slight twitching around the nose ... but no, it must have been a trick ... No! It was no trick! There it was again! Jimmy gulped, rubbed his eyes so as not to be mistaken, and looked again, more closely this time. Movement there certainly was, making him realise that he was not mistaken. His brother was alive!

“But ... but ... he's ALIVE!” he shouted finally, as Tommy's eyelids flickered and slowly opened.

“Who on earth's making all that din?” a faint and trembling voice asked from the table, “and where's tea? I'm starved.”

 

“I had the most horrid dream,” muttered Tommy through a mouthful of Algan's best seed cake. The colour was now flooding back to his cheeks, which were round and firm again thanks to the magician's wonderful cuisine. “It was like being eaten alive by an enormous bird with a cruel crooked beak and a taste for human flesh.” He paused and shuddered at the thought, but continued with his cake, irrepressible to the last.

“It was no bird I can assure you,” Algan interrupted the intervening silence, “but something which would have turned out to be infinitely worse - capture by the Senti and interrogation by Seth himself.”

“But, we've already...” Jimmy protested.

“Been captured and questioned?” Algan finished his sentence with a grim smile.

Jimmy's jaw dropped open in amazement, and his eyes widened to saucer shape. His unspoken question about how he knew remained unspoken, but had been answered from within by the Great Magician.

“He knows rather more about you than before,” Algan went on, “and is now no doubt furious that he should have let you slip away so easily. Next time there will be
no
escape.”

His words left the boys in no doubt about their fate should they succumb once again.

“But, the parcel!” Jimmy burst in again, remembering his loss. “I left the parcel when we were captured last time.”

“That
is
bad news,” Algan answered quietly, a look of concern spreading across his eyes. “Should he manage to get his hands on it, there would be no end to his mastery. Where did you leave the parcel? It must be found.”

“You don't seem to understand,” Jimmy said quietly and slowly. “Before we were taken into the castle, I pushed it into the cleft trunk of an old tree before the moat... “

“And we think the castle and all the surrounding area have disappeared,” Tommy interrupted, wiping the food from his mouth.

A profound silence fell over the room; so deep, in fact, that they could feel it around them. It felt almost as if they had climbed
inside
Algan's
mind
, with his thoughts blotting out everything, preventing even their movements. They were like statues, frozen in a timeless void of silence, neither able to move nor even to think.

“That is serious news indeed,” Algan broke the silence again, bringing them both to earth with a jolt, enough to make Jimmy's teeth rattle and Tommy's cake-filled stomach lurch. “However, I have searched the area ...”, he paused enough to catch the look of utter disbelieving amazement on their faces, and then continued in explanation, “ ... in my mind, and I can find three split-boled trees large enough to take a parcel. Nearer than that I cannot tell. You must return - for I could not do it for you - and retrieve that which you have lost. It is of the utmost urgency that you succeed. If you don't ...”

His voice tailed off into a hidden whisper of despair which chilled their bones.

“Algan?” Tommy asked, turning towards the old magician as they sat quietly and comfortably in the living part of the cave.

“Yes, my boy?” he said, drawing on an enormously long curved clay pipe from which he sent smoke rings of varying size and colour to delight and entertain the brothers. There was already a stack of eight hovering by Jimmy's shoulder, rather like a pile of miniature quoits ready to be thrown.

“What hit me?” he went on. “You know, just before your cave entrance.”

“It was a flying Senti,” the magician replied in a matter-of-fact sort of way; “and ...”

“I thought you said nobody could enter your forest without your consent,” Jimmy interrupted, somewhat puzzled by all this talk of Senti in his enchanted forest.

“I could not pick him out until it was almost too late,” Algan replied. “He was catapulted, and had he met you a few seconds sooner, before the failure of his trajectory, you would no longer be the owner of that fine head of yours.”

Tommy gulped, and his initial reaction was to clasp his hands to his throat and neck in order to keep his head where it should be - on his shoulders.

“It was a very long chance,” the magician went on, “but one which almost succeeded. As it was, the creature came out of your shadow long enough for me to perceive it was there, and to lessen its impact. The rest you know. You were very close to that eternal abyss when I brought you in; almost too far gone to rescue, I was able to call on deeper powers to help bring you back.”

The room began to fade and spin, and his senses started to swing like one of those enormous clock pendulums gone mad. The last thing Tommy remembered was the hugely beaming face of Algan, filling completely his eyes and mind.

Sleep is a wonderful thing; too little of it and you don't function properly; just the right amount, and everything is just fine. Jimmy and Tommy had been suffering from too little for too long, so the sleep they experienced was especially refreshing, with that special added ingredient from the magician which was secret to him alone. Deep, and filled with the most pleasant dreams of home, mum's cooking and all those things which had occupied their every waking moment in the wild, that sleep took them through the barriers of fatigue and into a new stage of alertness. Even though they had slept for only an hour or two, it didn't seem as though they had even closed their eyes at all, but that sleep and waking were all part of the same pleasant process.

“The parcel,” Algan went on when the boys were fully ready to understand what he had to say, “has to be found and returned. I think that the trees you talked about, and in particular the split one, are still there, teetering on the edge of the great gaping hole that is the legacy each Seth appearance and disappearance leaves. You will have to go alone. I shall not be able to come with you.”

“But ... but ...” stammered Jimmy.

“We were kind of counting on your support,” Tommy interrupted.

“I
cannot
be with you,” Algan repeated, “but do not despair. One whom I trust well and whose power equals mine but in another direction, shall watch over you, and, should the need arise, render such aid as necessary.”

“Who will this person be?” Tommy again insisted. “How shall we recognise him?”

“You will
know
,” Algan reassured. “The time is now right. Further delay should not impede your quest. The time of the Otherworldlings, fast approaches. I say only to you, keep the Craggs of Gotts Point in your sights and do not deviate towards the Old Watch Tower. There you will not find the end to your search.”

They were then aware of a keen air in their nostrils, a slight breeze through their hair, and Algan's voice in their minds only. The cave was no longer around them, but the open country lay in front and the sinister black silhouette of the Craggs lay before them in the distant gloom of approaching night. On an instinct, the boys turned sharply to catch a final glimpse of the Enchanted Forest, to find that the land between them and the Western Mountains was open, with no trees to be seen anywhere.