by W. C. Peever
Published in the USA by Savant Books and Publications
2630 Kapiolani Blvd #1601
Honolulu, HI 96826
http://www.savantbooksandpublications.com
Printed in the USA
Edited by M. Spencer Wolf
Cover Illustrations by Kelly Amancio
Cover Design by Daniel A. Janik
Copyright 2010 W. C. Peever. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the prior written permission of the author.
10-dight ISBN: 0-9841175-5-5
13-digit ISBN: 978-0-9841175-5-0
All names, characters, places and incidents are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and any places or events is purely coincidental.
Dedication
To my Family:
My Grandfather for his love of history,
My Grandmother for her love of nature,
My Mother for her unending support,
My Wife full of unending faith,
My Sister full of unending cheers and jeers,
My Stepfather for his grounding advice,
My childhood friend, Steve, for sharing the adventures,
My two beautiful daughters, for whom I write.
Acknowledgement
Greetings, Friends, Family, and Fans of Charlie’s Adventures. Writing the first book in this series was the most fun I have ever had. I bled with Mick, cried with Bailey, and got heartbroken with Charlie and Tillie. Each word I wrote slowly took on a life of its own. Soon my outline became a story. Then the story became not just real but surreal. For, even though I was the author, I still could not wait to see for myself what happened next. Thanks for trusting in my words, and going on the adventures with me. You, my readers, my friends, are the reason I write.
At Savant:
I want to thank my editor Spencer Wolf, whose brilliant and insightful creativity helped me to create an even more complex and interesting world for Charlie’s adventures. My publisher, Dan Janik, who saw the potential behind the story buried within the manuscript and took a chance on this first time author.
I also want to thank Kelly, who won my Facebook cover art contest, became my friend, and captured the world inside my head; Brianna, my friend and neighbor here in Swampscott, whose insights into the world of adolescents lead to changes both big and small; and my publicists at Kelly and Hall who worked within my nonexistent budget.
I would never have been able to pen the first chapter without the amazing education funded by my mother who worked herself to the bone that I might become the author I am today. When I was in the third grade she realized that I was not learning how to read at the school I was attending, pulled me out and achieved the financially impossible; she sent me to a private school, The Phoenix School in Salem, Massachusetts. With their incomparable and tireless teaching Betsey and Bruce Sargent, Barbara Mcfall, Sarah Smith, and Marjorie Holmes together gave me the necessary educational foundation that carried me through the next fifteen years. The Phoenix changed my life. Thank you, Barbara, for your patience. Thank you, Betsey, for your structure. Thank you, Bruce, for your friendship. Thank you, Marjorie, for your guidance. Thank you, Sarah, for your gift of song and inspiration.
Finally, and most importantly, I want to thank you, my readers, for going on the journey with me. Without your support I would not be putting pen to paper writing book two of the Jumper Chronicles tentatively entitled: The Path of the Templar In closing I will say only this: May the Gods of Asgard look over you all,
W. C. Peever
February 2nd, 2010
Table of Contents
A Letter from Headmaster Greyson
Prologue
Chapter One – Ten Years Later
Chapter Two – A Brand New Day
Chapter Three – Thornfield Academy
Chapter Four – The Librarian
Chapter Five – A Weekend to Gather the Past
Chapter Six – The Trials of Tribulations
Chapter Seven – Friends and Rivals
Chapter Eight – The Catacombs
Chapter Nine – And One Makes Four
Chapter Ten – The Stone in the Sword
Chapter Eleven – A Word in the Hand
Chapter Twelve – A Bit of Space, a Lot of Time
Chapter Thirteen – Ashes to Ashes
Chapter Fourteen – Out of the Frying Pan
Chapter Fifteen – The Choices We Make
Chapter Sixteen – United We Stand
Epilogue
About the Author
About the Cover Artist
A Letter from Headmaster Greyson
Níu man ek heima, níu íviðjur, mjötvið mæran, fyr mold neðan
I remember the nine worlds, the nine crystals that personify them, the glorious World Tree that unites them before the ground ever existed.
-Poetic Edda found among the ruins of the Norse
Dear Reader,
What you are about to read is the first chapter of a story about a boy, a boy with powers that to us mere mortals may seem strange, mystical, and ever unbelievable, but I am here to tell you that it is all true. It happened, and like Charlie, the knowledge of this world unlocked the magic as well as the dangers that lurk around us. If you are not ready to battle with the Gods of the underworld, then put this book down now, because once you know the secrets of your own world, you are no longer protected from them.
But I am getting ahead of myself. To understand the world you are about to uncover in the next few hundred pages, you must first understand where the world came from, and why we are who we are.
Four thousand years before the books say the Christian messiah was born, the true Gods of this earth ruled the world from high above the ancient tree of life, in the world of Asgard. They are the creators of the world, the makers of man, the protectors of all life, and the most powerful beings on all the planes of existence. Asgard, the world that the Gods created, was wondrous – full of beautiful and magical creatures: horses with a single horn on their head, silvery dragons whose breath would light up the night sky and ocean creatures whose size was only outmatched by their kindness. The home of the Gods was perfect, or it would have been if the Gods did not grow lonely and bored.
In their boredom they created new beings. They were Gods in their own right, with powers that could level a mountain or raise it once again, and yet they were forced to do the High Gods’ bidding. They were slaves, the Vanir Gods. Now, the Gods of Asgard were not all unfeeling, and they created a separate world inside Asgard for the Vanir Gods called Vanaheim, and for a time this gift made the Vanir Gods content to do as they were instructed.
The Gods of Asgard were so pleased with their invention that they created seven more worlds, all separated by a thin mystical veil that they thought would keep the creatures in each world apart. The first world they created was Jotunheim, the world of the Ice Giants, filled with Trolls, Giants and all manner of horned and muscled beasts that Gods would spar with when they wished a challenge. Then they created Nidavellir, the world of the Dwarves, small in stature but true of heart and mind. These immortal beings would work the metals of the worlds, creating lavish gilded gifts.
Odin, the king of the Gods, decried that the Gods would next create a race of beings that would look, act, and fall in love just as the Gods did; yet they would live out their lives without special powers, so that they could never rebel against Asgard. They named this world Midgard, and placed upon it the race of man. The people who lived in Midgard during this time were unlike people today. They were a primitive race living in caves, gathering berries, and fruit,
hunting huge beasts and being hunted by others. It would take many years for even a small settlement of them to acquire first Wisdom; those that did were called Druids.
The Gods created the two races of elves: The Elves of light and the Elves of Darkness, to remind themselves that for every positive act of creation, an act of evil must result. These two races represent the best and worst in Gods and men, but that did not ensure that the righteous would always be good, or the sinful always evil.
Lastly, they created the places that the dead must walk forever, for as every creature knows, though the body is mortal, the soul lasts forever. The first place is Niflheim, more commonly known as Hel, is for the souls that have lived an ordinary life, not doing real evil, and yet not doing heroic good. The second world is Muspelheim, a world of Fire and ruled by Demons that are never spoken of, lest they appear on Midgard. Finally there is Gimlee, a place of honor that only the bravest and noblest will ever see; it is the one realm where the Gods and the souls of the dead meet.
Each world holds its own treasures, secrets, mysteries and dangers, but none of them as dangerous as Midgard, our world, your backyard, where all of them connect, and more often than not, the veil breaks down. Now, as long as you are innocent of the knowledge of these worlds, and the dangers in all of them, you are safe. If, however, you choose to know more about these worlds, read on, brave one, and may the Gods of Asgard smile on you, H. Grayson
Professor Henry Grayson, Headmaster
Thornfield School for the Gifted
Prologue
The wind howled outside the small, colonial-blue, seacoast home of Daniel Burrows, as February bared its teeth in the small New England town of Marblehead. The house had seen too many winters without proper maintenance. The paint was peeling from the green shutters and the door to the garage had not opened for years. The second floor windows had old towels stuffed in the cracks wherever the windows didn’t quite meet the sills anymore. It was a valiant effort to insulate the old house, but it was proving no match for the relentless chill of winter.
There was a faint blue light coming from a second floor window, where a night light was keeping vigil over a young boy, no older than two. The boy shifted in his sleep, and a large Siamese cat at the foot of the bed readjusted accordingly. Out the window the moon bathed the deepening blanket of snow in brilliant white light. Trees swayed back and forth, their branches cracking in the wind and falling lifeless to the ground. A sense of haunting anticipation hung thickly in the air. Some might have thought idyllic, except for the out-of-place emerald glow emanating from behind a boulder two hundred yards from the back door.
The mysterious glow grew steadily brighter. Suddenly the nearby trees exploded in green and orange light, followed by a loud “pop”. A man stumbled out of the woods from the direction of the odd lights. He looked somewhere around the age of thirty, and might have stood around six feet, though it was hard to tell, as he was bent over. He wore a long brown traveling cloak that covered his body, and his hood pulled up over his face. Leaning against a tree, he removed the hood. Even in the moonlight and through the dried blood coating his face, it was plain to see that he was a handsome man, with short, dirty blond hair. He was out of breath and obviously hurt, but he straightened, took a deep breath, and called out, “Ellen! Ellen, get up, I need you. Ellen!” Having expended the last bit of energy, he could muster, he slumped against the tree once again. Lifting up his cloak, he examined the gash in his side and winced. It did not look good.
At that moment, a bolt of red light sped out from behind him and collided violently with the tree he was leaning on, knocking him to the ground and splintering the tree into pieces.
“Why are you doing this?” shouted a second man, dressed in a long black trench coat, his black hair pulled tightly back into a long ponytail. He clutched a long gnarled wooden staff, polished smooth with a green crystal embedded in its hilt. He spoke.
“You are making this more complicated than it rightly needs to be. Daniel, you have made a choice. For every choice there is a repercussion. I am the facilitator of that repercussion.” The man forced a smile.
“I won’t let you take the boy from me, Jonathan. Ellen doesn’t even know about our world. It would not be fair to her or to Charlie! We don’t even know if Charlie inherited the ability. There is no sense in this.”
Daniel stumbled getting to his feet, and slumped forward. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the white snow. His leg was riddled with splinters from the tree. There was no way he could fight in his condition. There was only one way to save his family, and maybe his old friend at the same time, but it would mean losing everything he cared for in this world.
Jonathan began to close the distance between them, his large black boots crunching the thin icy crust that had formed on the snow. “It didn’t have to end like this, Daniel my old friend. You should never have turned your back on him. He is far too powerful, much more so than the Order realizes. He cannot be defeated, not even by the World Jumper. Your delusions will be the downfall of the Order and the Vanari will use them to climb to power. He has already set his master plan in motion. Thornfield will fall and the Order will crumble behind it. You cannot stop this. If only you had joined us… He made you such a generous offer.” Jonathon shook his head and looked down at his friend. “I needn’t have had to dispatch you. But now that you have made your choice, I cannot let the great Jumper work for the opposition, now can I? No. You would do the same as I, given a reversal of our fortunes.”
“I would never kill my best friend, nor would the Order ever give such a command. You were one of us – a Guardian, my protector.” Daniel shifted his weight onto his good leg and stood erect. Ten yards still separated them. “How can you do this? How can you betray the High Gods of Asgard? The Order? Bailey?”
Shaking with rage, Jonathon raised his staff and pointed it at Daniel’s head. “Don’t you dare try to use my daughter against me! I am doing this to protect her! My Gods, Dan, do you think I wanted it to be like this? I don’t have any love for the Vanari or the treacherous Gods they serve, but I can see which way the tide is pulling. The Order will fall. I have traded my soul to protect my family. You and I together could have been His right and left hands, both of us sharing equally in the rewards, as before. The Jumper and the Guardian! We would have been unstoppable, but you had to ruin all of that. You had to…”
A light appeared from the second floor of the house. A woman’s voice floated on the still air, but the words were lost.
“Ellen,” Daniel whispered, and with his last ounce of strength, he ran full tilt towards Jonathon. Crashing into Jonathon, Daniel grabbed the man’s shoulders and they went down into the snow, Daniel turned a large ring on his finger and a purple light encompassed them both. “NO!
NO! You can’t! We will be lost! You didn’t set a point of return on the ring. This is suicide. Daniel! NO!” The purple bubble began to expand, then suddenly it imploded into itself and the two men disappeared into the night.
A baby’s piercing cry broke the silence and echoed into the night.
“Coming, Charlie my love. Wherever is your father? He should have been home by now! Here I am. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” Holding the child close, Ellen walked to the window. The wind had picked up again and she shivered, pushing several towels further into the cracks then with a sigh, she closed the shades.
Chapter One
Ten Years Later
The small, seaside house was filled with the unmistakable aromas of bacon, fresh coffee, and burning toast. A fortyish woman wearing a long t-shirt with a puppy dog imprinted on the chest was bustling around the kitchen, seemingly unaware of the billowing black smoke coming from the toaster. Instead, she continued to run around the kitchen in a panic, lifting up piles of clothes and looking under one before moving on to the next. “Charlie! Let’s go, kiddo! I need to get to work, and you need to get ready. I thought you were meeting Bailey today. Are you up?”
Upstairs, a scrawny twelve-year old with shaggy, dirty blond hair and a sun freckled face stirred beneath an avalanche of blankets. A gray woolen hat topped the whole pile like an old, tattered flag of surrender. “Charlie! Answer me please,” came the voice from far below.
From under the bundle, a freckled arm reached out and began to probe the night stand for a pair of glasses. The disembodied arm knocked into the bedside lamp, which crashed to the floor.
“I’m up, I’m up. I’m…” Charlie Burrows’ head popped out from under the mess of covers, his hair pointing in six different directions. Awkwardly, he put on his glasses, and looked down at the shattered lamp. “Darn and I just fixed that,” he said, rolling his eyes, sighing and jumping out of bed.
“Charlie! What was that? That had better not have been your lamp again.”
Shaking off his annoyance, he pulled the gray hat over his ears and headed down the creaking staircase to the kitchen. He could smell the burning toast and smiled. His mom was many things, but a cook was not one of them. It was not for a lack of trying. Ever since his dad had walked out on the family, his mother had to do everything, including the cooking, which had always been his dad’s job. He would never forgive his father for leaving, though he could not really remember him. Every once in awhile he thought he had a memory, but could never tell if it was a real memory or a picture he had seen.
The smell of burning bacon slapped at his nose when he was on the next to last stair and he broke into a run. After all, that was his breakfast burning. His bare feet hit the cold kitchen floor and he heard his mother’s scolding, “Charlie, slippers!”
Running back to the stairs, he grabbed the old pair of his father’s slippers and ran back to the table, where his mother had just set down a plate. “Happy birthday, my love,” said Ellen Burrows, kissing her son on the cheek. “Any special plans for today?”
“Nope. Maybe I’ll go down to the pond. It’ll definitely be solid after the chill we’ve had this past week.”