Pagewalker (35 page)

“I said there is no need to lay any more
hands on me!” He was sitting upright on the bench now, stretching
his back, arms and cracking his neck in a quick sharp series of
clicks and pops.

“Now listen here, I could have killed you but
I didn't, I wanted to tell...” I began but was stopped mid
sentence, by his hand raised in front of his face. His index finger
extended and rested vertically on his lips. He waited like that
till I had calmed and carried on is an eerily calm voice.

“I heard what you said,”

“How much of it” I replied,

“Enough,”

“How did you get out of your bindings?”

“Oh these? They came of as you were dragging
me to the bench here.” he chuckled. (Ok its been a good 18 years
since I was in scouts, forgive me for believing my knots were
better than they really are.)

“so you have been awake all this time without
your hands of feet tied?”

“Yea, long enough to have got’n up and
snapped all of your necks, if I wanted to!” He winked then smiled a
cheeky grin. “But don't worry, I heard what you said, and I know
who you are. I will be damned if I put a finger on the God of
Northland!”

(God of Northland, that's got a good ring to
it right? No? Just me then?)

“Well I’m not a God, per-se.” I said
embarrassed “But yea, I kind of created this place.” I gestured
around the house. I think he knew what I meant however. I could see
tears welling in his eyes. He just stared at me for the longest
time before looking down at his feet. A tear fell to the ground,
then another and another. A small puddle formed by his toes. He was
looking at his hands, turning them, over and over like he had
stains on them that he did not remember getting. I knew what he was
seeing though. I see it to when I look at my own. Its the blood of
others. The blood may not be visible to anyone but you but, its
always there.

“I have done some terrible things Sir.” His
gaze catching mine. “Things I will never amend.” His head dropped
forward again, he sniffed, rubbed his eyes then put his head in his
hands. I had seen what he had seen. I knew the anger he felt as he
watched brother die, I knew the loss he felt. I felt alone and
scared as he did. Masked by his stature, was a child, longing for
his brother and plagued, and infected with a terminal guilt.

Oisin and the bard had made their way back
into the front room, sitting side by said on the far end of a bench
beside the dinner table like cowering puppies scared of their
owner. Afraid of the beating stick with tails between their legs.
Sarah was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs and Tessa
cowered between her feet.

“I saw what you had seen you know?” He said,
looking up now at me again. “When you had the vision, I had it
too.” The bard stood up slowly and walked forward.

“Shared visions, very interesting.” he sat
down farther down the bench and pondered the meaning. The brute
went on. He told me of what he had seen and felt of me. He told me
how he saw my experience in my school In a strange land. Of my
heartaches, my misdeeds, my loss of Sarah, my adventures trying to
find her and what had come since. He had not however seen the
events that killed his brother. I recanted the story for him. Both
of us blubbering wrecks as I did so. In the end we embraced. We had
found in ourselves the truest form of Magic, The power of
forgiveness. Believe me please when I tell you, it is good stuff.
It lifts burdens, weight and worry. It is the truest form of magic
and an essential part of human nature that seems to have been
forgotten or pushed out in place of greed. I will not bore you with
reciting all the conversation we had that evening and into the
morning, then into the following evening. I wont go over how
everyone bonded and grew in those hours together. Bonded together
like a new family. All with stories and gifts to bring to the
metaphorical table, and some to the physical one!

We got to know each other so well and spend that time
together like a family bonding after an ordeal, making us all
stronger.

Late the following evening, during the course
of the conversation Sarah and I must have been thinking the exact
same thing, because we more, in unison, asked how we were to get
home? We hadn’t considered it until now really How were we to
return home?

After a quick run upstairs with one finger
held high like he was struggling to keep a thought from slipping of
the tip of it, The Bard descended from the first floor with a box
bound in leather and material. We opened it and lifted the old,
dirty, ripped and stained pages from it. Looking over that
manuscript I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and just plane
awestruck. All this, this entire world had spanned from the
imagination of an anxiety, sad and angry teenager!

Oisin and the bard explained the spell and
how it worked that would send up home. To be honest, it was another
rambeling session between both Oisin and the Bard, and Oisin with
himself. The gist of it was this however.

“Chris, do you remember the very first time we
spoke?” Oisin asked me.

“Aye, you were talking bloody rubbish to
yourself!” I replied, much to the amusement of everyone around the
table. Oisin carried on,

“Well, I said to you it is all a test in
Northaland, Everything here is always a test. After discovering who
you were and coming across Sarah I thought your Test was to find
your love, to know that above all else was what should be important
to you, you know, really fairy, and old fish wives tales etc?” I
nodded in agreement, “...But you already knew that, that truth was,
and always had been in your heart. Only now do I see what the test
was. Do you know now what it is Chris?”

I sat back and pondered, was it to fall in love with
my creations? Or maybe it was to find that family is what I needed?
Maybe even it was just to stop Abe and Garret? No, it was all of
those and more.

“I think so Oisin, It was to find something I
have been struggling with all my life. To find true magic, Not just
by reclaiming the Pages of Dertrid's deed, a book here that hold
more power than any but to find a magic more pure than anything
else in existence. Even stronger than love. You see you can love
those you forgive but you can not truly forgive without love. I
needed to Find a reason to be truly forgiven and truly forgive
without selfish notions. I can not, or no one can, change what
happened to them, but we can change the way we perceive it and deal
with it. Moving forward must be done without shackles. We need to
amend our mistakes, learn from them, grow from them and become free
because of them. This is true magic. Magic that can not be taught
or recited, Magic that has to be lived, and can be lived by every
person. That was my Test, to Understand magic. I now believe I do.”
The pages in front of me began to shake. A light grew from them, a
light so bright I was blinded. The table began to shake and we all
grabbed onto each other, like the climax of a seance movie, we were
blown and thrown all over the room, up, down, left right, side to
side. Like Lego shaken by a child. It seemed to last forever until
the light faded like a dimer switch on a chandler. Darkness slowly
fell on the room once more, the wind had stopped and little towers
of smoke grew from the candles.

We were still.

The room was calm.

All that remained in front of us was a small
leather bound book, Dertrid’s Deed. It was bound tight, the size of
a small Gideon bible and the same colour, a wine red. I lifted it
and put it in my pocket. We didn't need to say much after that. All
that needed to be said just happened.

The next morning we made our way back to the standing
stones on the North coast of Northland. I was excited but knew that
there was more that needed done. We passed the burnt and black
remains of the Rebels Rest. We parted ways with the Brute there. By
the way, we did get his name, I decided to leave it until now to
tell you all. I wanted to convey my feeling at the time to you
while I was describing that scenario. His name was Jarl, Fitting
name for the man he became. I never saw him again but the life he
carried on to live is worth another book on its own. A story so
great I will be sure to tell you another time. I heard he re-built
the Rebels Rest in an attempt to make up for his wrongs, but his
greatest story is much better than that.

We said our goodbyes and headed north again.
I knew the news would travel fast to Renir and once I had written
more of Oisin’s story I knew he would be taken to his place of
Power in Renir and live a life of purpose and wealth. I knew I
would not have to make changes to his story, the Bard of Aondor
would be sure to inform King Dertrid of the events and his name
would be elevated in that court, but I still did, just in case.

We made camp by the stones, we ate together
for one last time. Enjoying each others company a final time before
we returned home. Tessa was playing fetch on the hillside while
Oisin lay the final pieces in a circle on the ground. He had drawn
a series of triangles surrounded by candles. It looked borderline
satanic, but I just thought it looked cool. The time was upon us
and we were ready to pass over again.

“Please Chris, I beg you to be kind in your
writing.” Oisin said as he shook my hand “Sarah, take care of him,”
He said to her then whispered something in her ear. Sarah later
told me that he had said I needed taking care of as She was the
stronger of the two of us. It still brings a smile to my face. As I
think about it. We all embraced each other and then stood in the
centre. Words were spoken over us. Loud and demanding. The feeling
I had felt so many times while I had been here washed over us all
one last time. I heard the phrasing and spelt the old paper smell.
Then the smell of close forest air filled my nostrils and darkness
came like a long blink. We landed together in the dark damp hole in
which I had left from. The home of Abe, dark and wet. The roof was
dripping, letting me know it was raining above. Nothing signifies
returning to Ireland better than the sound and sight of rain. Hard,
wet raid falling think overhead. Splashing off the fallen leaves
and splatting on stones overhead.

Sarah and I did not speak the rest of that
journey home. What could be said? I lifted the book I was sitting
on as I stood up and closed the pages. There was enough room at the
back to write my promises to Oisin. I didn’t not want to waste any
time on holding up end of the bargain.

We made our way back to my car and started
the engine. Driving home in silence but holding hands tighter than
we ever had. I cannot express how much I loved driving the Bangor
road again. Pulling into Newtownards, passing the many roundabouts
there and driving the hill back to you little two bedroom,
mid-terraced home. To understand my wife best is to know that a day
or a holiday is never truly over until you end it with a strong cup
of tea. Maybe it was because we had not had one in so long or that
I was just so good at brewing a good cup, but that mug we had was
the greatest cuppa I have ever consumed.

No exaggeration.

We did as any couple would do after an
adventure such as ours, Well, not quite as cray as ours but you
know what im getting at, right?

We caught up on the TV we had missed. Sarah
kissed me so hard when I told her I had pushed series record, on
lots of it the night before she disappeared.

That evening I sat down and put pen to paper.
I told the story or Oisin and his adventures with the Bard of
Aondor. I put it at the very start of Dertrid’s deed so the truth
would shine through.

We visited Northland many times after that.
We still do from time to time. Tessa loved it there and honestly
it’s quicker to page walk with her to the north coast of Northland,
than it is to drive to the park a mile down the road.

Call me lazy.

I don’t care.

Now I urge you reader to take what you will
from this story, call it fiction, call it fantasy, I don't care but
please, please believe me when I tell you the true power of magic
is attainable. It is in your attitude, your outlook, the way you
treat others, the way to talk about others. It is in the stories
you tell yourself that rationalise every experience you have. It is
in two things above all others.

Love.

Forgiveness.

One cannot live without the other. You may
have the visions I had, you may not need to travel into a magical
world created by the scribbles of your angry teenage self. You may
just shift your heart where you sit now. Please believe me. Nothing
comes close to the joy of letting go and letting others go. There
is no weight or burden as heavy as regret or grudges.

Find your own magic, Find your own Truth.

This is my truth.

Call me a Liar.

I still don’t care.

Why?

Because I’m a Pagewalker.

The End