Yas was taken aback. “Guardian?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
Red’s eyes widened in realisation of what he had said. He put both paws over his eyes. “I don’t believe this. You really don’t remember?” he asked shaking his head. “Holy nutcracker!”
Yas wasn’t sure what to think or say. This must be part of a dream she’d had before.
“This is no dream,” boomed a deep voice behind her. It shook her to her senses, at least as much as she could be in this dream like state, and she stood up with a start.
“Hello?” she called, looking this way and that. She was starting to freak out. She assumed that someone or something was approaching or keeping out of sight behind the trunk. As she looked past the tree it occurred to her that she couldn’t see very far into the distance. There was a fog or blurriness to the distance that had perhaps crept in since she had fallen. She didn’t remember that being evident before now. It was off in the distance, while the space around her allowed bright, clear, shafts of light to shine down. This pocket of reality was strange. She wondered for a moment what would happen if she went walking off into the fog. Would it gradually reveal what was behind it as she neared, or would it stay as if it was some type of wall or boundary?
The ground moved slightly under her feet. She thought it was her at first but then looked down and saw roots moving in the earth.
“Urgh!” she exclaimed, dancing her feet away from the motion. “What the hell?”
“Calm down!” urged Red. “That’s the Great Oak that is.” He moved alongside her, pointing up at the tree with one paw and beaming.
Yas jumped a little again. Talking squirrels. A disembodied voice. Something moving under the ground. It reminded her of a horror movie she saw once.
“What kind of world is this?” Yas asked aloud.
“Its not a world,” came the booming voice again.
“Wait, what?” Yas called. “Ok, show yourself! And stop reading my thoughts or whatever you’re doing.”
“It’s how I speak,” said the voice. “I hear your thoughts and speak straight into your head. I have no mouth you see.”
Yas shook her head to dispel whatever confusion and madness lay within. “So, you’re communicating with me telepathically? Is that it?” This was becoming odder by the moment.
“Yes”, said the voice. “I am a tree!” The branches above her swayed a little as if to demonstrate the point. The penny dropped as she looked up. Those were the limbs that had saved her from her fall.
“You caught me?” She looked down at the ground where she could have landed. “What would have happened if you’d not?”
“No point thinking of what else could be,” replied the tree matter-of-factly.
“Well, thank you,” she said, backing away just a little.
“A talking tree,” she continued to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “What an imagination. You’ve got to be kidding me! A freaking talking tree!”
“Indeed, I am. And more than just a tree. I have helped many others. And I have, and will, help you.”
Yas was a little stunned. She didn’t know what to think, or say, or do next. Her mind raced trying to grasp some possible thread that might help her understand and organise what she had just heard. She realised that the tree had already helped her. She had been saved from a dangerous landing and was none the worse for wear. It didn’t seem possible.
“It’s a lot to comprehend,” said the tree. “I know. You have been here before. But, until you remember, I can be your guide.”
It was a lot to take in. Questions raced through Yas’s mind. The immediate one was the one that formed on her lips next.
“Where am I exactly?” She thought she would play along for now, until she knew more.
“You’re in a safe place.”
Yas balled her hands into fists, irritation brimming. There was a desperation for answers arising in her mind and it seemed that the reply to each question just raised more. A safe place? She’d read about fantasy novels of vampires and werewolves and other worldly creatures. If this was real, then could all other fantasy novels be real also? Was this one of the places that Sam talked about?
“There are no vampires or werewolves here,” reassured the tree. “And yes, your friend is right.”
“Will you get out of my head!” exclaimed Yas, tightening her fists further. She stood still, talking to herself. “I just… I just need some space to think. This is impossible. I’ve just suffered a bump to the head and will wake up soon.”
“You may think its impossible, yet a larger part of you believes,” said the tree sagely. “Otherwise you would not be here.”
With the tree’s words, something shifted in Yas’s throat, accompanied by a rush of emotion. It surprised her yet she also knew it was some truth being released. She knew the words to be true, yet she didn’t know where that knowledge came from. She was confused.
An image shimmered for a moment next to the tree. It was someone she recognised.
“Grandpa?” she asked, incredulously.
He said nothing and did not move, but just hovered there, smiling. Then just as quickly, he disappeared. A memory accompanied the image. She had been here before, with him, as a child. The memory was there, for a fleeting second, but she knew it was real.
‘Holy crap!’, Yas thought.
There were still questions to be answered. Part of her didn’t want to believe, yet there was no disputing the truth of what she had just seen. This was a curious place, an escape from normality that she found confusing. A realisation hit her. This felt like another place to call home, even though she didn’t understand it. Accepting that truth, some of the frustration lifted.
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling as though she had been acting improperly. “I didn’t understand.”
“It will take time,” replied the tree softly. “All worthwhile things do.”
Yas looked around her with fresh eyes. Having given up resisting, she now wanted to mentally explore her landscape. She looked around and allowed what she saw to simply just be. Different flickers of memory sparked in her mind. The scent of the earth, the rustle of the branches, the warmth of the sun on her face. She remembered being here before, but each time she focussed on the memory, it disappeared. It left her questioning what she was seeing, once more. The rational her told herself that this was a reconstruction in her mind of the New Forest.
“So, am I dreaming or is this some alternate world?”
“This is the Forest Realm. Your construct. It is real. Know that you can come and go as you please.”
“Come on, tell her”, urged Red excitedly. “Jog her memory. Or I could start throwing nuts at her?”
Yas sneered down at the squirrel.
“What?” it smiled back innocently.
“There are realms such as these that are available to see and, for some like you, to travel through,” continued the tree. “These are the realms of the stories. Formed by every storyteller and viewed by readers when they re-create them from the written word.”
“So, reading a book is like a window to the realm?” asked Yas, starting to build an understanding.
“Exactly,” said the tree gently. There was a smile there in the reply, or perhaps Yas had imagined it.
“So, how did I end up here? In this… realm?”
“I believe you have been brought back to us, Yas”, answered the tree honestly. “To finish what your grandfather started.”
“What?” Yas didn’t like that answer. Why would she be needing to help what her grandfather started? From what little she knew, he had been stealing books or involved in some sort of copyright theft or publishing scheme. Why would she need to be involved? Surely someone else could help instead? It created a mild sense of panic within her and one which she felt she needed to distance herself from. Her rational mind kicked back in.
“No, I fell, off a kick step and instead of hitting the floor, I came here. Oh, and by the way, I don�
�t break the law!”
“Intriguing,” said the tree thoughtfully.
For a moment there was silence, and Red stared at the tree.
“Intriguing, yes,” imitated Red. “What did your grandfather do?” He resumed searching the ground fitfully, sniffing and scratching the ground.
“What did my grandfather do?” asked Yas, getting annoyed.
The tree was silent for a moment. Its limbs above swayed from side to side. “In looking through my rings of history, I can only tell you that he stole snippets of stories from story keepers. Custodians, in realms.”
“Stole? Stories? From custodians? I don’t believe it!”
“I’m sorry, but its true,” continued the tree. “From the first times, stories enabled people to come together, share information and ideas and unite behind a common cause. Think of custodians as librarians, enabling access to specific stories, except that these are custodians of stories that all humanity has ever written and contained within a collective consciousness. A set of imaginary worlds.”
“Ok,” replied Yas, not really understanding. What the tree said made sense, but it all sounded too incredulous. “Why was he stealing the stories though?”
The tree was silent again, its branches and leaves rustling. “I do not know, Yas,” it replied. “I think you will need to ask the Custodians of the library realms yourself.” It paused again. “From what little I can recall, I think he believed that there was a growing threat.”
“What threat?” This was frustrating. She wanted to learn more about what her grandpa had done. She knew him. She found it hard to believe he had done something so wrong, something so bad that her parents had refused to talk about it.
“That is exactly the right question,” answered the tree. “One which I believe has brought you to us.
“Me? Why me?” asked Yas. “Why hasn’t someone else found their way to you, through...?” she indicated skywards. She paused, looking upward to where she fell from, “...whatever that was?”
“A magical doorway?” suggested the tree.
“Yes,” said Yas. “If these doorways are there, surely others would have noticed them? Surely people would be falling through them all the time?”
“Only if you know what to look for,” explained the tree. “Humans have a significant ability of explaining away things that do not fit into their understanding of the world. When you read, in your mind, the realms feel real enough. Yet, in the outer world, they are mere whispers, gentle suggestions. If there is a doorway however, the effect is magnified, much more real in the outer world.”
“I think that’s what made me fall,” Yas said, starting to put the pieces together. She replayed the ‘Psst’ noise she’d first heard and the shelves vibrating and shaking.
The tree seemed to stir again.
“Usually there is a key. Something else that links the hint of a doorway with it being a physical reality.”
“A key?” asked Yas.
“Yes,” replied the tree. “Words from another book. Some other item, or even a memory.” There was a slight pause. “I believe it is something to do with your connection with your grandfather. That was the key to you opening this doorway today.”
This seemed incredible to Yas. She looked up again to see any sign of the doorway that she fell through. It all seemed so much simpler in the bookshop. Helping customers, helping McVale, going to school and being at home. However, this place offered a tantalising glimpse of answers to questions she never knew she had. It was a Pandora’s box and having opened it she knew she could not walk away without having answers.
“You said I needed to continue his work? To see the custodians of the...”, she tried to remember the term, “...library realms?”
“Yes, Yas. They will have the catalogue of all that has been and is.”
“A catalogue? Of stories?”
“Yes, in the first libraries,” replied the Great Oak.
“How do I find them then? Are they in other realms?”
“Yes, you must find other doorways, from the outer world.”
“Another doorway!” she replied sarcastically. “Ok, great. No problem.” It had been an accident that she had found this doorway. How likely would it be that she would find another? Was it like buses where you waited an eternity for one and then more turned up at the same time? Or would she be an adult reading stories to her own children before another doorway opened for her?
Okay, she reasoned, her logical mind kicking back in. As a result of the news items this morning and then the conversation with McVale, she was missing her grandpa. She had bumped her head, and this was her mind’s way of remembering. It was just some crazy dream in the forest, with a crazy squirrel and a talking tree. There was no quest. It was just a dream.
“This is no dream. I promise you that.”
“Okay,” said Yas. “Find the Custodians of the first libraries.” It sounded incredulous. “That’s what you want me to do?”
“In a nutshell, yes,” replied the tree.
“Nutshell?” asked Red. “Where?” and he went off scuttling around him, then stopped. He sat up indignantly. “Bloody tricksters!”
“So how do I return to the outer world?” asked Yas. “If this isn't a dream?”
Red sat up on his hind legs and clapped his front paws. “You’ll be blown away by this!”
“Come around to the back of my trunk, Yas,” instructed the Great Oak.
Yas walked around slowly to the back of the tree. She stepped softly between the roots so as not to disturb them. As she reached the side, she saw a vertical glint of silver, just over half her height. Further round she went, until she could make out a silver panelled wooden door. It was curved, to match the shape of the trunk and wide enough for her to fit through. It just sat there, impossibly. It reminded her of so many childhood novels, yet none of them could exactly describe what she was seeing.
The door was plain except for a small triangle set about two thirds of the way up. Equilateral and made from three pieces, the end of each side stopping before the start of the next. Then in the middle were two further similar pieces of the pattern. Halfway down the door, on the left, was a dark, bark coloured round knob of a handle. It turned, in response to her purchase, and made a quiet click. A gentle difference in air pressure resulted in it moving open by itself, and she could see a light inside.
“Until we meet again,” said the Great Oak.
Another question arose in Yas’s mind. How would she be able to get back again?
“From your memory of this place,” came the tree’s assurances.
Yas shook her head in disbelief. It was a lot take in. “This is crazy,” she said to herself. Then she ducked her head down and stepped through the door.
Thankfully, the space inside was larger, so she was able to straighten up again. In front of her was a spiral staircase. It rippled slightly, giving a nod to the living tissue of the tree. The walls were a light orange, stippled yet unlike the outside bark, with what looked like veins running up and down. She figured these carried nutrients up inside the tree.
“Remember that doorways are access points between the outer world and inner realms,” added the tree. “You will find ways to enter. Just look for the clues.”
‘Okay,’ she replied, trying to accept what the tree had said. Then, for Yas, the only way was up, so she started to climb. After a few steps, she found her analytical mind re-engaging again. “I’m climbing up inside a tree,” she said to herself. “I must be going mad.”
“You’re not,” came the reply, the tree’s voice a little more distant.
Yas followed the steps round and round and up and up. She felt as though the space inside should be becoming more and more restricted, yet it didn’t. Somehow this was not directly linked to the proportions she had noticed on the outside. Like everything that had happened so far, it made no sense, but she had to find a way to accept what she could touch and see.
The steps rose and continued to wi
nd, her feet and legs moving rhythmically. The light remained the same, yet the walls seemed to change gradually. They seemed less substantial. She could glimpse something through them. She could sense points of lights out beyond the haze of the semi-transparent walls and veins. Like stars through the atmosphere, they twinkled, but these seemed much closer. They were like lanterns, which became clearer the higher she rose. The walls were becoming more transparent but were still solid to her touch. This was good as she needed something to hold onto. Her legs were becoming tired and she could feel herself breathing harder under the exertion.
The lights outside became clearer, gradually. There was movement too. Something was swooping in the shadows and passing in front of the lights, causing the twinkling. She strained to see what it was, and as she peered, she imagined that her head was able to break through the walls of the staircase into what was now a lighter scene outside. The points of light were much larger and fewer, like huge suns around her, and yet she could feel no heat from any of them. The moving shapes were dark ribbons, rippling from left to right and back again. They were bumpy, not smooth or uniform, but seemed to have a consistent average height.
The more she climbed, the more she grew more in relation to her surroundings. She dared not look down, but continued to step rhythmically, mesmerised by the travelling ribbons around her. She could see that each was not a continuous shape, but a set of shapes, words in fact, in a sentence as if on a page. There were many of them now and they were settling into more of a vibration. The lights now surrounded her, and she could make out an edge to each, pages of an open book onto which the words were becoming still, large and blurred.
Then, without knowing when it had happened exactly, she realised that she had stopped still. She was laying down. She had a light pressure to her right temple and was laying on her right side. The words and lights dissolved from her mind’s eye, and she realised she had her eyes closed. It was all puzzling. There was a missing transition that she could not recall. Yet she also felt that she had no gaps in her memory.
The Word Guardians: and the Battle for the Peacekeepers Page 4