Magic Parcel Page 15

  Ursula agreed, almost reluctantly, and led the way. They took the exact turning they needed, followed the corridor to where her father’s study should have been, but couldn’t find it. How could it be possible to lose a whole corridor and a study when there was only one possible way? When they emerged into the hall through one of the oaken doorways they had not used before, they both slowed to a frustrated halt, looked at each other and shrugged in disbelief.

  “I don’t believe this!” Jimmy sighed. “How could you get lost in your own house?”

  Ursula was just as puzzled as him, and suddenly launched herself through the door she knew was the correct one. Not so. This passageway took them to the Great Hall where they again stopped.

  “It’s as if the house is consciously taking us away from where we want to be,” Ursula said slowly, through a deeply annoyed frown. She clenched both fists so tightly that her knuckles lost all colour, and stared fixedly and very determinedly at the picture wall. So strong was her annoyance and so deep her concentrated inner strength, the Great Hall gave way to the recess in front of her father’s study. Immediately it became solid, they both experienced the tingle, and as she reached out to touch the door their world evaporated. It was replaced by a moonlight-flooded world of thatched mud huts and glinting water. Jimmy recognised the Chieftain’s Halls immediately. He grabbed Ursula’s hand to move towards it, and noticed everyone stopped what they were doing and turn slowly towards them. They recognised Jimmy straight away and although they did not know who she was, they felt Ursula’s hidden power, bowing low and shielding their faces from it as it passed. They slowed to a standstill, their movements frozen in time.

  Several things happened virtually simultaneously. The Chieftain’s Halls grew around Jimmy, the people were released from their inactivity, and Ursula disappeared. All light from the waxing moon had been veiled, as the gloom in the Hall deepened, to cut out everything except for the faint glow and swirling haze surrounding the Chieftain’s chair. The room, like some hazy smoke-filled bar after closing time, was empty; except for the Chair. That, as ever, was occupied. As it could by right, be occupied by the Chieftain alone, he was in residence. Jimmy recognised the shape of the head, the mane of hair and the aura surrounding him. He approached slowly, carefully, so as not to irritate the great man. As Jimmy neared the chair its occupant turned, slowly, deliberately, anticipating the newcomer’s actions.

  “Chieftain,” Jimmy said gravely, and as he did so he caught the glint of the eyes behind the bush of facial hair. “Is it Tarna? It can’t be you! Are you now the Chieftain of Omni?”

  “Tommy?” Tarna’s brow furrowed at the mention of the name. “I knew you would come back sooner or later. I am sorry you had to return in such inauspicious times.”

  “It’s Jimmy, Tommy’s brother. Are you the Chieftain now?” Jimmy asked rather pointedly, knowing already that he couldn’t be Chieftain unless he was a direct descendant; unless...the rightful heirs were all dead!

  Tarna, the Chieftain of All Omni, fixed Jimmy with an aggressive glare, which all but silenced him verbally if not mentally. As Tarna didn’t know much about Jimmy other than what Tommy had told him a long time before, he couldn’t have accounted for his growth in mental faculty since the last time he was in Omni, and that he was beginning to develop his own powers.

  “I am the Chieftain of All Omni,” Tarna boomed rather grandly, “and I have no need to justify my position to you!”

  Immediately, Jimmy was suspicious because the Tarna he had known about from his brother and Dominic would not have delivered such a pompous and arrogant speech. He felt something wasn’t right.

  The assumed smile behind the glower reasserted itself as Tarna spoke, in sugary tones this time.

  “Jimmy,” he oozed, “how good to see you. I hope you have brought good tidings with you. As you can no doubt see we have had a difficult time of late. How is your brother? Is he with you?”

  “I know we left somewhat hastily in the middle of a battle last time we were here,” Jimmy answered, “but I had no idea things might be as bad as this. Has Seth become too powerful?”

  “A slight set-back, that’s all.” Tarna said, glossing over the obvious poor state of the land. “He will be defeated ‘ere long. Then I, we, will take back what we have lost.”

  “What about Por and the Wandering People? Are they still here?” Jimmy asked. “And what of the Old Man of the Mountains? We saw him before we left last time.” He did not let him know about Ursula or their meeting with her grandfather. He did not trust him now.

  “Not been seen for a long time,” he replied with a grand gesture. “Word has it that he has diminished to an old powerless hermit in the wild or he is, quite simply, dead.” Jimmy remained silent throughout the diatribe, not letting Tarna see that he didn’t believe this explanation.

  “You must be in need of refreshment,” he continued, clapping his hands to summon an aide. “Jaffed here will see to your needs.”

  With the arrival of this man, Jimmy was effectively dismissed and led away from his presence. The last he saw of Tarna was the back of his head wreathed in a blue swirling haze, rather like a tobacco smoker framed by a wreath of shifting pipe smoke. Fortunately, Jaffed had gotten to know Tommy quite well during the times he had been here before, and so Jimmy hoped he might glean information about the situation here now.

  “How are things here really?” Jimmy asked Jaffed tentatively, understanding that he would need to be careful with his wording. “Things don’t seem to be quite as good as before. “ He paused to take in a little food – fruit, bread, and fruit juice – but Jaffed said little other than to speak of their situation in generalised terms. “I know the Old Man of the Mountains isn’t dead. I’ve seen him, spoken to him, know he’s not as lame and useless as perhaps might have been thought.” The look of utter surprise on Jaffed’s face told Jimmy that he had scored a direct hit.

  “Come with me,” Jaffed urged Jimmy, taking him by the elbow and leading him out of the Chieftain’s hut. “We need to be somewhere we can’t be overheard.”

  They entered a small hut on the southern-most edge of the village, a little detached from the others. They weren’t seen as it was still dark outside, with a few clouds venturing inland and periodically obliterating the moon’s pale glimmer. Once inside, Jaffed lit a small oil lamp which cast only enough of a glow to allow them both to see each other’s facial features.

  “The Chieftain of old suffered several serious defeats, both military and personal, at the hands of Seth,” he started. “At first we all put it down to misfortune but these defeats became a little too regular. There is no way Seth could have inflicted all of that without internal help of some sort. We had our suspicions but could not prove who the informer might be, until one moonless night several weeks ago. We witnessed the most intense and prolonged battle of wills between the Chieftain and, we assumed, Seth. The struggle lasted an age, with great lightening storms raging in and around the Chieftain’s hut, and we could do nothing but watch helplessly.

  In the midst of one particularly violent onslaught, all activity ceased suddenly. We rushed into the hut to see what help we might give, but the Chieftain – our proper Chieftain – was no longer there. He had disappeared entirely. However, filling his Chair, as if he had a right to be there was Tarna. He was changed in a way we hadn’t noticed before, much as you saw him today. He simply assumed the role of Chieftain, and nobody has dared to challenge him, not even the Chieftain’s sons. As I said, we all have our suspicions and fears; all, that is, save those who support him and provide him with whatever counsel he wants to hear. Tarna never used to be that arrogant and self-opinionated.”

  Jaffed tailed off into a pensive silence, which lasted for several minutes, until Jimmy asked quite pointedly and unexpectedly, “What about Por and the Wandering People? Tarna didn’t answer when I asked him earlier. And Algan, what about him?”


  “I know nothing about any of these people,” Jaffed faltered, after a moment’s thought. It was as if he had never heard those names before. Or as if he realised suddenly he had said too much.

  Intuitively Jimmy felt that, although his mental abilities had recently become heightened, Jaffed was able to shield the truth from him. A feeling of helplessness began to grow in his head, making him wonder if the Omni he had known was slipping away gradually, to be replaced by a world of deceit and evil.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Black dark. No light save the pale electric blue caught on the titanium edge of an ultra-sharp sword; craftsman built; hard as hell; no quarter. Where on earth is this place? This is no place on Earth! The black recedes slightly, only enough to allow the sighted to discern to whom they are speaking. The powerful amongst them have no need to see.

  “Lore Masters!” came a low voice, all the while growing, like a dull throb in the head. “Lore Masters, show your skill to me. Bring me what I need to know, and you shall be exalted to the highest of the high. Fail me, and your fall shall be so low that it will depart this world forever, along with your entire line.”

  “Lord!” they chorused almost in unison.

  They knelt, heads bowed, not daring to behold the countenance whence came these words of awe. They awaited his will with trepidation and dread. How was his mood? Would he favour or destroy them? The light waxed slightly to reveal an ebony throne set upon a black dais. Upon that throne sat a being of such power that no-one dared gaze upon its ever shifting, swirling, changing indistinct form. The fount of all evil, the pit from which all despair emanates, this was the Lord of Seth, once known as Tar-igor, brother to Gor-ifan from whom he wrested power so long ago.

  “From your furthest memories and your most profound lore writings,” he continued, “I need to know the deepest and most ancient evil ever to walk this world, and I must know now where it resides.”

  The faces of the six lore masters, acknowledged to be the most learned in the land, betrayed their dismay for they knew of no such entity, no evil deeper than that of the Seth himself. Yet, how could you find the way to tell him this when he had the power to snuff out your life force simply by thinking it? So they remained in pained and uncomfortable silence, hoping he would tire and release them. No such relief was to be their salvation. He must have the knowledge so that alliances might be struck and resistance to his plans removed.

  “Well?” he boomed, taking voice once again.

  “My Lord,” stammered Albor, the one considered to be chief amongst them, “we don’t ...”

  “There is one,” a shrill voice rose through the deafening silence left by his superiors, “whom you seek.”

  “No, there...” faltered Albor.

  “Silence!” Seth interrupted. “Let him speak. Who are you? Come forward.”

  Albor fell forward with a pained and strangled cry, and as the newcomer strode over his prostrate, cloaked body, the cloak became still and empty. Albor was no more.

  A small dwarf-like figure stood before the dais, body straight and unbowed, his curiously sightless face unmoved by the majesty of his Lord before him. “My name is Untur, son of Untar, greatest lore master of this world. I am servant to the almighty Lord of Seth.”

  “Speak!” Seth ordered, unmoved by Untur’s rhetoric. “Now!”

  “Majesty,” Untur continued, unabashed. “There is one considered long ago to be the ultimate evil power in this land. He was defeated and diminished one thousand ages of man ago by an alliance forged between this world and another, and imprisoned in the Crystal Realm whence there is no escape. He is called Umbrano, and I know how you might release him from his nether world prison.”

  A silence of such utter profundity fell over the gathering, that the blinking of an eyelash and the beating of the smallest heart could have caused such cacophony as to result in shock waves capable of throwing down trees and buildings.

  “Where is this “Crystal Realm”?” Seth finally broke the silence with words, which crashed into the gathered listeners. “Is it to be found in this world?”

  “It is not, my Liege,” Untur responded with equal assurance. “It is not of any physical world. It can be found only by one powerful enough in mind and sorcery to unlock its secrets with a key whose whereabouts I have discovered.”

  “And where is this ... this key that only you have access to, oh wisest and most learned lore master?” This he delivered with a powerful and crushing sarcasm, which had no effect at all on Untur. He simply stood his ground before the great sorcerer and prepared to deliver his answer with a self-confidence verging on arrogance. Who was this little-known dwarf and how had he come by such vital and telling information?

  “I will take you through the secrets my father would have taken to his grave had I not intercepted his last thoughts,” Untur began, unabashed. “However, I must have certain assurances that I will benefit from this alliance we are about to share.”

  “Assurances? Alliance?” Seth exploded. This outburst was designed to show all present that he did not brook minions lightly, and that he, the Seth, was in control, not some upstart dwarf. He had decided before Untur’s declaration of “terms” that he would reward him as there was something about his arrogant, confident attitude, which he liked. If he proved to be as good as his word, he would be Seth’s next chief lore master. Untur, recognising Seth’s ploy, allowed him to win the attention and belief of all onlookers. He simply dipped his chin in an overt act of contrition and supplication. They both understood each other and the rules of engagement perfectly. Theirs would be an alliance to keep the balance of power firmly with the Lord of Evil.

  “Your story will be of use to me and clear in its instruction,” warned Seth, the menace in his voice growing clearly, “or you will share your former master’s fate.”

  Untur inclined his head slightly to acknowledge the perilous agreement upon which he had set his seal, and in which he would not, could not, fail.

  “The Crystal Realm is an invisible prison,” Untur started, slowly choosing his words with great care, “which exists only in an alternate reality where those trapped exist behind crystal walls of an impenetrable strength, and which cannot be breached by force or guile. Not even the great and glorious Lord of Seth possesses the power to achieve this.” He paused to cast a brief glance at his master, who was unmoved, intent, concentrating, eyes half-closed as if almost asleep. No response; no reaction. ‘Was this a good sign?’ he thought.

  Untur continued, “The Realm was established, created by an alliance of four great forces, one thousand ages of man ago. Their joint powers forced Umbrano into it to spend the rest of eternity as a ‘reward’ for his attempt to conquer the world. They were the bearers of names some of which you will no doubt recognise – Algan of the Enchanted Forest, Ben-ruhe the Otherworldling, the Chieftain of All Omni, and your brother, Gor-ifan. I have an overwhelming feeling that none of them would agree to Umbrano’s release, should you ask.

  “The only alternative key is through the mind and spirit of a truly innocent young being from another world who enters this world of free will. This being has to be the chosen one with a strong link to the ancient order, and must be pure of mind and heart. I feel sure the great and glorious Lord of Seth will know such a being.”

  “Indeed I do,” Seth’s response came, after a few moments thought. “There is one whose arrival in this world visited a major disruption to my plans. He it was who became the unsought catalyst for the forging of an alliance between the disparate riff-raff peoples of this world against me. He it was who was instrumental in the release of my niece Miriel from my care, and the rousing of my archenemy, Algan, from his rustic slumbers. He is the focus of all our wrath, and must be taken even more urgently now to further our cause. He is named Jimmy Scoggins, and we believe he is here in this world now.”

  The room had grown progressively darker the more inte
nse Seth’s pronouncements had become, with lightening playing around his ever increasing temples.

  Without warning, he was gone, the audience was over, and the lore masters gathered, unsure, outside the audience chamber. Untur somehow found himself in the midst of a loose circle of ancient lore masters, shuffling towards him in as menacing a fashion as lore masters feel able. Untur, unrepentant and un-cowed, raised himself to his full dwarfish height, held his head up and raised his hand to them in quasi-friendly warning. Recognising that, perhaps, he was a force not to be trifled with, they backed away and disappeared into the darkness.

  Untur remained, entirely alone, enjoying the feeling of elation which success had heralded. He would be the Chief Lore Master, of that he was sure. He was also sure, at some time in the not-too-distant future, he would have a much more crucial role to play in the ordering of this realm.

  “Not good!” Jimmy thought. “Not good!” He wasn’t at all sure how he was going to escape this situation, where nothing he saw was as it should have been. Tarna was not to be trusted and Jaffed had lied. How many more of these people, he had known of and called friends, were not now true to their shared ideals. He felt he had to find the Wandering People somehow, or make his way to Oompah’s castle, where he hoped he might find truth and clarity. What he would have given for a number 59 bus!

  The black of night was already beginning to give way to the grey of early morning as dawn signalled its approach. But what was he about to see in this now unsure and unsafe place? Previously he would have beheld many dun-coloured huts hugging the lush green grassland, fastened about by a silver ribbon of bright water that was the River Lin. Already in the half-light he could make out that there were fewer dwellings, some in ruins and some flattened completely. He felt tired, more so than he had ever felt before, and he wanted to be home. The thing about adventures was that they were great on a full stomach and first thing on a bright summer’s morning. Late autumn with a setting chill, no sleep, and an empty belly didn’t do it for Jimmy at all.