The Children's Crusade

by Carla Jablonski

  Marya watched Tim jump the pattern and vanish.

  He’s awfully nice, she thought. He might truly be able to help Free Country.

  She knelt down and began to erase the chalk marks with the hem of her dress. Maybe he’ll even be able to turn Daniel happy inside. She sank back onto her heels. Or maybe not. Maybe magic can’t do things like that. Any magic. Maybe nothing can just make you what you want to be. You always have to help the magic along.

  The hopscotch pattern was smeared enough to be unrecognizable. She had accomplished her mission. “Good-bye, Free Country,” she said.

  She stood and clapped her hands together to get off the chalk. She knew exactly where she was headed: to that dance school. Some of the girls in that window were spinning around, only wishing they could dance. But some of them were dancing. Really dancing. Finally, she might be able to find someone to show her how.

  Maybe it has something to do with being allowed to grow up, Marya thought.

  After living for over two hundred and fifty years, she believed she might be ready for that.

  Chapter Seven

  DANIEL LEAPED FROM his raft to the riverbank. He had sat in Marya’s tent for so long that he was late for the meeting of the high council.

  It seemed Marya had been gone awhile. Makes a cove lonesome and skittery inside not to have her about. The tent was sure empty without her. In fact, to Daniel, all of Free Country was empty without Marya in it.

  He ran through the tall grasses, knowing full well how peeved Kerwyn would be by his lateness.

  “Hey!” Daniel yelped and tumbled face forward onto the ground. He lay stunned for a moment. “Cor,” he exclaimed. “What happened there?”

  He sat up and discovered he’d been tripped by a thick, gnarled tree branch. “That’s funny,” he said, rubbing his scraped palms together to lessen the sting. Free Country usually never lets that sort of thing happen to a fella. Usually, Free Country moves roots and fallen limbs or branches right out of a bloke’s way. He patted the soft dirt. “Losing your touch?” he joked.

  He scrambled back to his feet and made his way more carefully to the clubhouse where the meeting was taking place.

  As Daniel approached he could hear voices jabbering. It sounded like everyone was speaking at once. Daniel grinned. Perhaps Kerwyn wouldn’t even notice his tardiness—he’d be much more furious at the talking out of turn. Kerwyn loved his own rules and orders.

  Daniel grabbed the soft, thick rope that hung from the upper branches in the enormous tree that held the clubhouse. He gripped it hard, then hoisted himself up to the first wooden slat that led to the entrance.

  Kerwyn and Aiken Drum had built the clubhouse in the sprawling branches, aided by Free Country. As new children arrived, the clubhouse transformed to reflect their wishes. There were nooks and crannies for those who liked hiding, turrets for those who enjoyed castles, big tall windows to let in light for those who wanted it and small low windows for the littler ones.

  It’s a right regular castle in the sky, Daniel thought, reaching the entrance to the main room. No matter how often he saw it, he was always impressed. He swung his legs through the opening and dropped into the clubhouse. Everyone was already here.

  Jack Rabbit, in his extremely realistic bunny outfit, leaned against a wall. Daniel always found it a bit disconcerting to be chatting with a rabbit taller than himself. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure that the bunny thing was a costume—it was that convincing.

  The kid all in green sat at one end of the table, scowling. One-handed Wat was on Kerwyn’s left, and the stuck-up Griselda was on Kerwyn’s right.

  Freaks, Daniel thought. The lot of ’em. Then he had a worrisome idea—did that make him a freak, too? Was the high council for the biggest misfits of all? Is that why Kerwyn had asked them to be part of the group? And was that the reason Marya would never kiss him? At first, Daniel had been honored to be one of the kids in charge—the ones who had important meetings and made decisions and all that. But now, glancing around the table, it made him fidget.

  Kerwyn sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, holding a carved wooden staff—the “talking stick,” he called it. Daniel didn’t know where it had come from. He was fairly certain Kerwyn hadn’t carved it. Pretty smiling faces peered out from the top of the stick. They reminded Daniel of the Shimmers or maybe angels. Kerwyn clung to it as if it were made of gold. It was almost his favorite thing, besides the clipboard that sat on the table in front of him, and the Scrabble game.

  “The high council of Free Country will now come to order,” Kerwyn declared. “When I call your name, please say ‘present.’ Daniel?”

  Phew. Just in time. “Present, Kerwyn.”

  “Jackalarum, also known as Jack Rabbit.”

  “Present.”

  “Junkin Buckley?”

  “Kerwyn, you can see he’s not here,” the kid in green grumbled.

  “Quiet, Peter,” Kerwyn scolded. “You have not been announced as present yet. Anyway, I’ve got the talking stick and I don’t recall pointing it at you.” He cleared his throat. “Junkin Buckley did not respond,” he announced formally. He made a mark on the paper on the clipboard.

  “Hullo, my darlings, here I am.” Junkin Buckley appeared in the entrance of the clubhouse.

  Daniel started. He hadn’t heard Junkin Buckley come in. Junkin Buckley was always sneaking up on a situation.

  Junkin jumped down to the floor and gave a bow. “Loverly Junkin Buckley has popped up, pretty as a picture. You can write that down, too.” He winked at Kerwyn.

  Kerwyn scowled. “You’re supposed to say ‘present.’”

  “I said, I’m here.” Junkin Buckley sat down in the empty chair beside Daniel.

  “Not ‘here,’” Kerwyn insisted, “‘present.’”

  “Will you please get on with it, Kerwyn!” Daniel sputtered.

  Sometimes Daniel enjoyed watching Junkin mix it up with Kerwyn. Kerwyn could be right stuffy and priggish. But today Daniel was irritated by Junkin’s casual air. Marya was still in the Bad World. There was important business to be taken care of at this council meeting.

  “You’re not to speak, Daniel. You know that,” Kerwyn scolded. “Only if I point the stick at you may you speak.”

  “Thou art dawdling, Kerwyn,” Wat said. “Shove off with thy foolish stick.”

  “Exactly,” Daniel muttered.

  Kerwyn took a deep breath. He pointed his stick at the figure in green. “Peter, also known as Puck?”

  “Not present.”

  “Don’t be foolish. How can you be not present?”

  “I’m tired of this Peter Pan or Puck, or whoever it is I’m supposed to be. You know I only agreed to wear these stupid tights so that we could get the little fairy over here.”

  Daniel was glad that none of his missions had required him to wear any dopey disguise. For instance, he would have hated having to wear that bunny suit to bring in animal lover Maxine. But Jack Rabbit didn’t seem to mind. He had the outfit on when Daniel had first seen him, and had never taken it off that Daniel knew of.

  If it was me, Daniel thought, I’d be out of that blooming bunny gear right quick. Though, he did admit, lots of the kids coming over found dress-up outfits and stayed in them. Some days Free Country looked to Daniel like one big fancy dress ball.

  “Since we’ve had to send the fairy back,” Peter Pan continued, “I think I ought to be allowed out of this ridiculous getup. And I want to go back to my real name, Katherine.” She stood up and glared at Kerwyn. “Got it?”

  Kerwyn winced. “You’re really meant to make your report after roll call, not before. Once the meeting’s over you can make a proper request to change back into being a girl.”

  Junkin Buckley laughed. “As for me, I’m hoping she goes back to being a girl right immediate, and begins by taking off her boy clothes right now.” He sidled up to Katherine.

  Katherine brought her fist up to Junkin’s chin. “Just what do you mean by that
, creep?”

  Junkin held up his hands. “Hey, I be on your side.”

  “Toad licker,” Kate snarled.

  “Kate, Kate, I can’t wait. You’re the catch and I’m the bait.” Junkin Buckley circled Katherine, chanting, “I see London, I see France, I see someone’s underpants.”

  Daniel prepared himself for a serious row. In fact, everyone must have had the same idea. They all leaped up from the table, worried that this might come to actual blows. Everyone started talking at once.

  This is unusual, too, Daniel realized. He’d never seen an actual fistfight in Free Country. Squabbles, sure. But no violence. It was as if the very air wouldn’t allow it, normally. Something had changed. Free Country wasn’t doing her bit to keep those two from fighting.

  What did prevent Kate and Junkin from fighting was the total chaos of the meeting. As everyone started shouting, Junkin stopped taunting Katherine. He probably figured she couldn’t hear him over the din, Daniel thought.

  Junkin circled the table, then sat at the end opposite Kerwyn.

  “All right. Where’s my stick gone?” Kerwyn shouted. “Who took it?”

  “Don’t you dare accuse me!” Griselda shrieked.

  “Why would anyone bother to take that stupid stick?” Katherine said.

  “Peace, all of you,” said Wat. “End this strife.”

  “I tell you, someone’s stolen my talking stick!”

  “Kerwyn, this is becoming tiresome,” Wat warned.

  “But somebody’s—”

  Wat lost his patience—something else Daniel had never seen before. “Free Country dies whilst you argue your petty rules of order. Now hold your tongue and let Peter, who is also Katherine, speak.”

  Kate crossed her arms over her green tunic. “Well, basically the fairy couldn’t adapt. Sort of like if we tried to live on the moon. She was getting sicker the longer she stayed here. But we managed to grab some of her power before we sent her home. So, I’m done. I want to change back to being me.” She flung her green feathered hat across the room. Her dark hair tumbled down around her face.

  “I—I—I demand you keep on your disguise,” Kerwyn fumed.

  “You’d look better in a disguise,” Katherine muttered.

  “You are out of order,” Kerwyn snapped. “You’re done talking.”

  He slammed the clipboard down hard on the table.

  Daniel wanted to smack all of them. Why didn’t they get on with what mattered? Marya was out there—somewhere. What were they going to do about that? And if she couldn’t bring in Timothy Hunter, she was banished. Forever. Daniel didn’t know what he’d do if she never came back.

  “Everyone listen,” Kerwyn began.

  “Shut up, Kerwyn,” Jack Rabbit said. “If you’re so keen on talking, why don’t you tell us how well your team’s doing?”

  “Aye, how does your band fare?” Wat asked. “How goes the hunt for our great master magician?”

  Kerwyn stared down at the table. “I, uhm, I didn’t exactly send a band.”

  “Your company, then?” Wat persisted. “Your team?”

  “Not really a team either, exactly.”

  Wat looked confused. “But did you not send your best fellows to find Timothy Hunter?”

  Kerwyn’s shoulders slumped. “I sent Marya.”

  “Marya?” Jack Rabbit repeated. “One girl to convince the mightiest of magicians?”

  “She…uh…she had this plan and…”

  “Is Timothy Hunter here in Free Country?” Jack Rabbit demanded.

  “Not exactly,” Kerwyn admitted. “Not yet. But he will be.”

  “What were you thinking?” Wat asked. “You know how important this mission is. Perhaps the most important of all!”

  Daniel had had enough. Kerwyn wasn’t about to own up to anything. “What his nibs isn’t saying is that Marya forced his hand by swiping his precious Scrabble tiles. She said if he didn’t send her to find Tim he’d never see them again. And now I’m worried about her. She should have been back by now.” Daniel approached, until he stood over Kerwyn’s chair. “If anything’s happened to her, I hold you responsible.”

  Kerwyn gulped. “It will all turn out just fine,” he assured Daniel. But Daniel wasn’t reassured.

  “You should have sent me,” Jack Rabbit said. “Seems I’m the only one capable of getting the job done. Maxine is here in Free Country, as ordered. Happy as a doe in a lettuce patch besides.”

  “What’s this ‘only one’ malarkey, Mister Bunny Cottontail?” Junkin Buckley tipped back his chair and placed his feet on the table.

  Daniel glanced down to see Kerwyn’s reaction. Kerwyn’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve gotten Suzy over here, right enough,” Junkin Buckley continued, “all on my own. Not needin’ a disguise, I might add. All I does is says ‘Suzy-poozy, I’m Junkin Buckley, I am.’ And I plucked her right from under the oaky nose of—Well, more would be telling, and Junkin Buckley knows when to keep his gob shut.” He clasped his arms behind his head.

  “Can you tell us more precisely where this Suzy waits?” Wat asked.

  “Well, now, that’s for me to know and you to wonder about, ain’t it? At least for now.” Junkin lowered his chair with a thud. “You see, I’ve got a few questions of my own to be answered. And you have to answer, because I have the talking stick!”

  Junkin held up Kerwyn’s carved staff.

  Kerwyn leaped from his seat. “My stick! You slime-skinned sneaky—”

  Junkin Buckley twirled the staff in his hands. It looked strange—wrong somehow, though Daniel couldn’t quite make out how.

  “Now I wants to know what’s this secret plan, then? You said you’d tell once I got the Suzy girl here. You promised. What about it, then? What’s the secret?” He pointed the stick at Kerwyn. “Rules is rules, gov. You have to speak when I point at you.”

  Wat and Kerwyn gasped. Now Daniel could see what was funny about the stick. The angel faces were now contorted and twisted, seeming to scream in pain and agony.

  Everyone in the room moved away from Junkin.

  Junkin Buckley’s pale eyebrows furrowed together. “Why are you all looking at me that way? What did I do? I haven’t done a thing ’cept what you begged me.” He dropped the talking stick to the ground and clasped his hands together as if he were begging. “Pleeeeease, Junkin Buckley,” he whined, “be my best friend. Pretty please.”

  The stick rolled over to Daniel. He bent down to pick it up, then hesitated. He didn’t want to touch those nasty faces. His eyes widened. The faces had gone back to normal, as if once Junkin Buckley let go it had gone right again. As if something in Junkin Buckley’s touch was…twisted.

  Daniel picked up the stick and silently handed it to Kerwyn. His and Kerwyn’s eyes met over the stick as they realized the implications. The stick was passed among the others.

  Junkin stared at them, as the silence filled the clubhouse.

  “Why won’t you speak?” Junkin Buckley demanded.

  “None of us will speak while you remain, Junkin Buckley,” Wat said.

  “What have I done?” Junkin Buckley asked. “I ain’t done nothing, I tell you.”

  “It is not what you have done, Buckley,” Wat explained. “It’s what you are. You are not one of us. We cannot trust you.”

  “Not one of you?” Junkin Buckley looked dismayed. “Of course I am. I’m good old Junkin Buckley.”

  “You need to leave,” Kerwyn said. “You are banned from the council, Junkin.”

  Daniel watched Junkin’s face go from surprise to hurt to anger. He lurched to his feet and tore out of the clubhouse. “You’ll be sorry!” he called over his shoulder.

  The council stood silent for a moment.

  “I don’t like this,” Katherine said. “He might do something to ruin everything.”

  “Have faith,” Wat said. “While it is alive, Free Country will watch over us. As we care for her, she will care for us.”

&n
bsp; Wat sat back down. “Soon all that we have dreamed these many years shall come to pass. Soon all the world’s children shall be here, and free.”

  Chapter Eight

  TIM GAZED AROUND at the extraordinary place he found himself. One minute, he’d been jumping hopscotch in grimy, gray London. The next he stood in a field of bright green grass under a brilliant blue sky with what looked like lollipops growing out of the ground.

  “Huh,” Tim grunted. “So that’s what all those nonsense rhymes are about. They’re magical incantations. Interesting.”

  For one moment he wondered if he was in Faerie. It had changed each time he had popped in for a visit. But, no, there was a different energy here. Tim wasn’t sure of its source, but he could sense it. This must be one of those multiple worlds Titania showed me before she decided she wanted to kill me, he mused. I wonder how many more there are?

  Tim took a deep breath. The place smelled of baked sweets and safety. Tim felt his shoulders relax for the first time since he’d been approached by the Trenchcoat Brigade and told of his magical destiny.

  “You’re right, Marya,” Tim said. “This place is amazing.”

  When she didn’t answer, he turned around. And around. And around again. No Marya.

  “Marya?” he called. Tim figured it would take her a few minutes to get there. We probably can’t both go through the gate—or door or whatever it was I slipped through—at the same time.

  Tim didn’t mind waiting. He lay down in the grass and soaked up the extraordinary sense of well-being it gave him. He felt as if he could simply lie there and all would be set right. All his problems—his two so-called fathers, Titania’s rage, how to handle his magic—none of it seemed important right now. What seemed important was that the sun was shining overhead and the birds were chirping a pretty melody that he could almost sing along to.

  This relaxed state of affairs only lasted for a few minutes.

  Tim sat up abruptly. “Where is Marya?” he muttered. It occurred to him that the whole thing might have been a trick. The idea dismayed him. Marya hadn’t seemed to be the sneaky sort. But you never know…