The jumbled mass of confusion that followed was incredible, but it did serve to give us a means of escape. I grabbed my sword, and Thomas did also. Both of us dipped them into the butts of the dead ants that plugged our original doorway. Just in time, too. The closest spider jumped in response to Brian’s twitching finger. Thomas and I stabbed our swords into its chest at exactly the same time. The spider died on the spot. At least a dozen ants crashed through the new opening and attacked the spider that was farthest away. The last thing I saw of that one was a bodyless, hairy leg falling to the dirt. The last thing I saw of Brian was his back. He and his spider made a hasty retreat through same the tunnel that they came in; half a dozen ants were in close pursuit.
Thomas, Sarrah, and I raced in the opposite direction.
*****
43. The Battle Moves Outside
While Brian and the remaining spider sped off in one direction, the three of us sprinted in the opposite direction and through the hole created by that idiot of a worm. Worms are probably not the brightest of creatures anyway, but you would think they would have enough sense not to bash their way into a den filled with a zillion ants. After all, what is a worm to an ant but a huge hunk of fresh meat?
The immediate spider threat was gone. The ants were making short work of the still-writhing worm. We had someplace to be. We had to get to the orb. That’s where Brian was heading. We were all certain of that.
The three of us ran as fast as our legs would carry us over stacks of dead things and through tunnels that were now becoming almost familiar. Even so, the route was still confusing to us. The light was just too dim, and we couldn’t recognize all of the landmarks well enough to follow them with any certainty. Besides all that, the tunnels and the landscape was always in a state of change. These ants could carve new tunnels quicker than Grandpa could take a nap. We faltered more than once; made more than one wrong turn; entered more than one wrong chamber. As fast as we tried to be, we were just too slow.
Suddenly, the three of us skidded around a dark corner only to run into three lone ants. They were there for us, and we simply trusted them and allowed them to do their jobs. The ants picked us up with care, turned, and ran directly toward the orb. As we had done before, we broke into the sunlight. This time was different in the sense that we knew what was happening. We knew where we were going. So we looked. We studied. We saw. To our left we could see one of the fallen trees that formed a colonnade. On top of that were the four smaller trees, each still alive, still growing, perfectly nurtured by the long-dead tree. To our right rear we could see the magic portal. To our front, we could see what we originally believed was a cave, the place where we met the mouse. In front of that was the huge maple tree. Our size no longer hindered our recognition of the place we had visited dozens of times with Grandpa. Our eyes had been opened. Suddenly, this world didn’t seem to be nearly as large, or nearly as strange, as it was only minutes before. We could finally point toward home.
For the moment, pointing toward home wasn’t the most important thing we had to do. If we really needed the second piece of the puzzle to go home, we didn’t have it. We were in the jaws of ants. We were headed into the battle of our lives, one that we were definitely not looking forward to. One that was also heading right toward us.
The attack reached us almost before we realized it. Mosquitoes buzzed us at speeds and in numbers that were mindboggling. Dragonflies were so numerous and so fast that their beating wings whipped the air, often forcing an attacking mosquito off course by the sheer force of their wind. Springtails bounced by the thousands. Beetles spread their super hard wings above our heads like protective helmets. Worms undulated under the ground that we ran on, and they tripped our ants all too frequently. Spiders tried to jump, to attack, to kill us, but the ant colony was prepared and fended them off by the force of sheer numbers. It was like all of nature’s tiny creatures were either for us or against us. Thousands died for some notion that they believed to be good, or great, or necessary. I couldn’t help but wonder about the futility of it all. They fought for the orb, but as far as I could see, the orb was nothing more than a container that spurted hopes and fears through its cracks, a glass that magnified either love or hatred, an engine fueled by whatever emotion was contained in the hearts of those who possessed it. A sudden sound snapped me out of my deepest thoughts. I glanced at the others, but they showed no sign of having heard anything. I did. I heard him. It was Grandpa! “Remember your heart.” Again, I looked backward to study Thomas, but he showed no sign of recognition. He held no look of astonishment. I don’t believe he heard Grandpa. Only I did. Those words were meant for me. The entrance to the maple tree coliseum was directly ahead.
*****
44. The Battle Inside
If the battle outside the cavern looked like all of nature’s creatures were fighting each other, then the battle inside was definitely not of this world. The violence of the war was incomprehensible. The sight, unimaginable. Spiders, worms, mosquitoes, butterflies, springtails, pseudoscorpions, cockroaches, millipedes, all were here; all were fighting; all were killing, or dying, or both.
As fierce as the battle appeared, we stopped it, but only for a second. That happened as soon as we entered the coliseum when all attention was turned toward us. We became the focus. Every creature in the room targeted us: some to kill us, some to defended us. The ever-present springtails bombarded us from all directions. Their aim wasn’t great, but they did keep us off balance, defensive, and dodging. The best we could do was to hide. It was impossible for us to fight. At first, numbers seemed to be on our side. Ants, butterflies, cockroaches all seemed to fight off those that seemed to be our enemies. Soon, that too changed, and the one factor that changed the status quo was Brian.
Brian entered the coliseum from somewhere behind us, still riding his hairy steed, still able to assume total control of the spiders. His hands went to work as quickly as he entered the room. Every spider in the place responded to his finely tuned movements, as if each spider was a marionette controlled by Brian’s strings. The gyrations of Brian’s fingers and hands were as complex as you can imagine. Not only did he direct the motions of individual spiders, but he also directed their behavior, and more importantly, he directed the tactics of the battle. He pointed to one spider, shook his fingers in some kind of secret code, and suddenly the thing was herding a hundred springtails. He directed others to gather additional earthworms, which they did with ease. Dozens of spiders herded the slimy things into the fray. How strange that these creatures were so perfectly willing to do the bidding of some small, previously insignificant human. For some reason that I will never be able to explain, Brian was in total control. It was a feat that was as mystical as the orb, itself. Clearly, though, Brian was in charge, tactically, strategically, perfectly in control. Why Brian wanted worms would become more than obvious in only a few minutes. The battle’s toll quickly turned when he directed the spiders to release the worms.
You would think that worms were incapable of doing much, but you would be wrong. They squirmed mindlessly, slashing long, muscular bodies across the width of the floor, constantly sliding on slime trails and writhing in new, unpredictable directions. They could have been dangerous just because of their size and weight. Instead, it seemed that Brian’s plan was even more devious. The worms did nothing more than provide the ants with giant targets that took hundreds of ants to control. The ants viewed the worms as a threat to be defeated. Brian viewed them as strategic distractions. While thousands of ants focused on the worms, a few hundred spiders went to work on the ants that didn’t. Their power and strength was more than the ants could stand, and soon, ants died all around. They were unable to defend against this increasingly powerful threat. I began to wonder at the limits of their brain power. You think that ants are smart, but in reality they only have what they are born with. Their innate knowledge of growing, walking, building, fighting, defending, tunneling is remarkable. Their ability to incorporate ne
w knowledge is less than exciting. Everything we had seen them learn about killing spiders, how to double team, how to use their acid to inject it inside their enemy, all that was gone. They were like really old people: great memories of ancient history, but no recollection of yesterday. This seemed to me like a flaw that could easily wipe them out.
The ants defended the three of us kids with their lives, but they were losing. Other creatures helped, but Brian studied those as well, and he moved his forces accordingly. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. This was probably my greatest moment of weakness, that moment when my body was vulnerable to attack, when my heart was vulnerable to breaking, and when, for the first time since we had come to this land, I was ready to give up, to quit. Brian stared at us with hatred; his eyes were full of fury and crazy desire. He could see the end, and that’s exactly what he wanted.
Brian directed three spiders to surround us, exactly as he had done earlier. This time, he did not take part in the attack; he managed it. The spiders circled us, closed in on us, forced us together. Our ants stood butt-to-butt and turned round and round in a last ditch attempt at defense. We could do nothing more than watch in horror as Brian directed six other spiders to protect the three that surrounded us. He was the perfect general. He had the calculating foresight of a master chess player, something that the animals, with all their knowledge of survival, could never have had. Brian made certain that nearly every ant in the arena was busy. Busy fighting a herd of suicidal worms. Busy tearing apart a thousand mindless springtails. Busy fighting off hundreds of spiders that intentionally remained far, far away from the orb. Brian knew that he was about to win.
The spiders that surrounded us continued to squeeze the circle and continued to ensure our capture. Our ants eventually put the three of us on the ground. Thomas, Sarrah, and I surrounded the orb, the ultimate flag of victory. Our three ants surrounded us while they circled slowly and intentionally around us, defending us, protecting us from the spiders that closed in ever so slowly.
An aerial view would have been an astonishing thing to behold. One glowing orb in the middle. Three kids around that. Three ants that circled. Three spiders that circled those. Six more that defended those. Spiders busy in a dozen other areas. Ants around those with the major centers of actual fighting far and away from the object of victory, far away from the orb. Brian had done well. Fighting continued everywhere, but the real focus was us and the orb. Brian was focused on the center, yet he directed and manipulated every other creature in the coliseum to keep the center free and clear.
Remember how I described our first introduction to the jumping spiders? Remember how fast I said they could jump? These three were faster. I didn’t even see it happen. The three spiders that circled us were on top of the three ants that defended us. Those died before I could even take a breath. Two spiders attacked Thomas and me. We had our spears, but those were gone in a heartbeat, simply ripped from our hands by the fangs of a spider. The third spider jumped on Sarrah with all its weight and speed. Her body hit the ground with a sickening thud, followed by the audible exhalation of every ounce of air. That spider stood on Sarrah’s chest so that she couldn’t draw a breath. Her face showed fear more than anything; agonizing, wide-eyed fear. The spider stood above her and flashed its fangs, just waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the signal from Brian. Venom dripped like saliva. Sarrah was about to die.
Thomas could see it happening. “Sarrah!” He leaped directly under the spider that held her. By now, the spider reacted simply from instinct. He would kill them both. Fangs slashed through the air and headed straight for Thomas’s head. But, I jumped in there, too. I was able to roll onto the tossed weapons and grab them. I jumped under the spider and positioned myself on my back directly on top of Thomas who was directly on top of Sarrah. I could see directly into the spider’s mouth. I could see its hairy body with a close-up detail that I never want to see again. The spider jammed his mouth straight down, straight toward me, but I thrust my spears upward. The thing hit those first. The giant creature screamed, probably the sound of air escaping from the wounds I created. The pain caused him to rear and jump away from us. That should have bought us the second we needed, however, and almost instantly, another spider took his place. I tossed one of my spears toward Thomas. He was able to stab it into the abdomen of one of our dead guards and lashed out a split second faster than the spider that attacked him. The poison did its job. That second spider died. Two remained; two that we knew about; two that Brian had moved into position to kill us. Thomas and I reloaded our weapons with ant poison. We had to stay ready.
“Brian! Stop this. You’re going to kill us. You know that Thomas and I can’t win this fight. Why are you doing this?” It wasn’t much, but it was the best plea I had.
“I want the orb. The orb has to be mine. I have to use it to bring Grandpa back.”
“Then take the orb. You can have it. But it won’t give you what you want.” I don’t know where that came from, but suddenly I knew the answer. At least, I thought I did. It was too simple.
One of the two remaining spiders began to size us up. Everything was there. The stance, the rolling eyes, everything. We knew how close we were to death.
Brian touched the spider he rode, placing one hand on each side of its grotesque head as if he were closing its ears. When he did that, the others stopped in mid stride. The battle also stopped in mid stride, and we were still alive.
“What do you mean? What do you mean that it won’t do what I want? You saw it. You saw what it did.” It was the first time that Brian appeared to be distracted from his obsession. The first time he wanted an explanation.
I knew the answer, the secret. Suddenly, everything made sense. I don’t know how or why, but it did.
“Brian, the orb is a farce. Its power isn’t real.” Those were the only words I could think of, probably not the best thing I could have said at the time. Then I did the unthinkable. I reached out, grabbed the orb, and did as the king spider had done before me. I held the orb as high as I could reach, and I offered myself to it.
The blue stone began to spin wildly, taking on, as it had, the look of the sun. Shafts of light exploded from the orb and shined brilliance onto every color inside the coliseum. Emerald greens, browns, blues. The coliseum, itself, became a beautiful gem. Then, mists gathered around my feet and raised themselves to a point above my head. The gem was perfectly and precisely cloud covered. Nothing inside the tree was visible except for me and Brian. Then we heard it. Grandpa’s voice. His perfect tone filled the room; it probably filled the woods. “Do what you have been taught to do. Follow your hearts. Fight for what you believe is right. Go home.” Surely, all of us had to have heard Grandpa.
Most certainly, we all heard the orb.
Three will leave but one will not,
memories not wanting to chase.
I looked at Brian. He looked at me, expectant, but not knowing. Still captured by the mist, I turned my eyes toward my hands, and without stopping to think, I let the orb slip through my hands and onto the stone-hard altar. It broke like a ripe melon. The blue gem crashed to the ground. Rolled into the open. Lost its glow. Laid there. Its glow slowly disappeared as if its magic, the magic of my heart, bled out. The mists disappeared, and both Thomas and Sarrah stood with their mouths agape.
I looked at the ceiling of the coliseum. I suppose I expected it to fall. It didn’t. The sky didn’t grow dark. The world didn’t end. The only thing that happened was that Brian yelled at me.
“Hannah! No! What have you done?” Brian’s scream was agonizing. His huge eyes welled with tears, and his stare terrified me. To be truthful, I’ll never understand why he didn’t kill me on the spot. He was so terribly angry. I had begun, though, and I needed to finish.
“I told you, Brian. The orb isn’t the real magic here. The orb’s magic is pure illusion. Don’t you see? The only true magic is that in your heart. That’s what energizes the orb. That’s where its magic
comes from. The orb may have represented something. It may have represented good or evil, hope or despair, dreams, or even nightmares. But it only represented those things. It only gave us a focus for our beliefs and our hopes. True hope is in your heart. True goodness and true magic are in your heart. Grandpa is in your heart. The secret is simple. The real magic of the orb is contained in the heart of the person who holds it. The way we need to live our lives comes from the heart. It’s all about the choices we make. It’s all about how we make those choices. We need to live with passion. We need to love, to build, to study, to grow, to be with passion. We need to give ourselves to others so that they can learn, and grow, and thrive. We need to be giving, supporting members of a family, of a community, just like these ants. We need to live with our hearts, and we need to give our hearts to others. That’s the magic. That’s the secret we need in order to go home. We simply need to do what we have been taught all these years. We need to go home—so we can help keep balance in the world.”
Brian wasn’t ready to listen. His heart was lost and would not so easily be recovered. “You’re an idiot,” he said. “Who are you to judge? How do you know what the truth is? How do you know what’s evil and what’s not? All you have is the story as told by some glowing orb. Where did that come from? Why do you take those words as truth? How do you know the ants aren’t evil instead of the spiders? How do you know? You already said the orb contained no real magic. What other lies are there?”
“Some of the orb’s words are correct, Brian. Balance is necessary in this world. We know that, now. But it was also deceiving you. The magic you want isn’t in the orb. It’s in your heart. That is where you will find Grandpa.” I tried so hard to reach through his armor, but Brian wouldn’t hear a word of it. He sat in perfect silence. Waiting. Finally, I said, “Brian, we’re going home. You should come with us. We’ve found the magic that Grandpa wanted us to find. Now, we need to do something with it.”
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