Josh and the Magic Vial

by Craig Spence

  “Can you hear it, Ian?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Listen hard, you two,” Josh coached. “Follow the call.”

  “At the count of three, you will awaken,” Endorathlil was saying. “You will be back in my flat, back in Vancouver, out of Syde.”

  “Josh!” Millie cried. “I don’t want to leave like this!”

  “You have to, Millie!” he urged. “We need you in Outworld.”

  Millie let go, then. She willed herself to let go, relaxing all her muscles.

  “One,” Endorathlil counted.

  Millie felt dizzy, the gravity of Outworld conflicting with the pull of Syde.

  “Be careful, Josh,” she cried. “Come home.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  “Two.”

  She opened her eyes for one last look at Syde, and her friends Josh and Quiggle. They were a mirage already, fading from consciousness. Millie didn’t want to see them disappear that way, so she shut her eyes again.

  “Come home,” she called back to Josh again.

  “I need you to call to me from Outworld — even if it seems like I’m sleeping and can’t hear,” he shouted.

  “Three.”

  Suddenly the whirling sensation stopped, and Millie felt the world around her change. She opened her eyes and stared up at the cracked ceiling of Endorathlil’s suite. The witch’s concerned face loomed over her.

  “Thank goodness your back!” Endorathlil greeted her. “I thought for a while I’d lost you.”

  She didn’t say so, but a part of Millie fervently wished she had been lost in Syde. She felt like a coward returning to Outworld without her friend. Then another face loomed over Endorathlil’s shoulder. “Inspector!” she cried, glad to see him.

  “Welcome home, Millie, Ian,” he greeted them warmly. “You deserve a hero’s welcome for what you have done. Alas, there is no time, for much remains to do if we are going to save our friend Josh — and we will save him.”

  65

  “That was a job well done,” Quiggle was saying. “Now, I suppose we should be getting back to your rooms, Sire, before Lord Vortigen misses us. I’m ready to be projected as soon as you are, despite the unpleasantness of the process.” He stood in the middle of the road like a man expecting to be run over at any moment.

  “I’m not going back, Quigs,” Josh said.

  Quiggle opened his eyes and raised his brows, surprised by the news, and by the determined tone in which it was delivered. “Not going back, sir? But we have to go back! Your only chance of escape is to continue in the role of heir until your friends call you back to Outworld. If Vortigen discovers you are missing and that you have aided Ian and Millie in their escape, he will make sure you never leave.”

  “He is bound to know I helped Ian and Millie,” Josh said. “Remember, I sent his captain on a wild goose chase? That will be reported.”

  “Ah yes,” Quiggle agreed. “But he will forgive that lapse, I am certain — the bonds of friendship, the impetuosity of youth and all that. He will be angry, Sire, but not irrevocably turned against you. There still may be a chance.”

  “I’m not going too Outworld until I’ve finished my business here,” Josh said firmly.

  “Finished your business!” Quiggle cried. “But My Puzzling Prince, surely your only business here is getting out and back to the world where you belong. What other business could there be for you in Syde?”

  “It’s not that simple, Quigs. I need to make contact with the leaders of the rebellion.”

  “The rebellion? You, the heir to the throne, make contact with the rabble who would throw down Vortigen’s empire. If I may be so bold, Sire, I would heartily recommend against such an insane course. The rebels would greet you with open arms, I’m sure, and a prisoner’s chains. They would see you as a hostage My Lightheaded Liege. They would use you to extract whatever concessions they could from Vortigen then hand you over to face his wrath. Do not think of it, sir.”

  “I’m aware of the risks,” Josh replied calmly.

  “Then why must you take them?”

  “Endorathlil saw in me what I never imagined in myself, Quigs,” Josh explained. “And Vortigen, and Puddifant, and all the citizens of Syde. Everyone has recognized in me a special destiny and I cannot avoid that. It has been thrust upon me and I have come to accept it and the responsibilities that come with it.”

  “True,” Quiggle said doubtfully. “But I don’t yet understand what you are saying.”

  “Was it my special destiny to come here, do nothing, and then flee back to Outworld? Could that be the reason I was chosen to come to this place?” Josh burned with indignation at the thought, and he realized how fierce he must look by the way Quiggle cringed. “I’m sorry for speaking so bluntly, Quigs, but I have just discovered my purpose here, and it inflames me.”

  “Well, I hope not to get too badly singed, Your Blazing Majesty. But I still have to ask what you mean by this purpose of yours. Are you saying you intend to sit on the double throne with Vortigen?”

  Josh laughed. “No, my friend. That will never happen.”

  “What are you saying, then?”

  “I am going to join the rebellion, of course. My purpose is to release the souls Vortigen and his allies have entrapped.”

  For once Quiggle was speechless. He stared at Josh, his eyes starting out of his head.

  “I’m not expecting you to come, Quiggle,” Josh assured him. “I will project you back to the Emerald Palace . . . ”

  “Now you’re forgetting something, Sire,” Quiggle reprimanded.

  “What?”

  “I was by your side when you talked to the captain. I do not look forward to Vortigen’s summons once he hears of that. I’m afraid he will finally be provoked to send me to Desolation Isle, despite my invaluable service to him.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Josh blushed. “I forgot.”

  “That’s quite all right, sir. It’s only me, Quiggle. I make a point of not being noticed.”

  Josh blushed even more.

  “So for better or worse, I suppose we must find the rebels together, eh!”

  “Sorry,” Josh said. “But I guess you’re right.”

  “And what of your parents, Ian, Millie and all the others in Outworld who will mourn your death there? Have you thought this through, my young friend?”

  Josh sighed. It felt to him as though all the air he had ever breathed was escaping from him and that his life was spent. “It’s a terrible risk, Quiggle, I know. There’s a very good chance I will cause immense suffering in Outworld without doing any good here at all. But every nerve and fiber ofmy being says this is my destiny, and that I will regret it all my life if I do not act upon it now — this instant.”

  “Well then,” Quiggle said thoughtfully, “I suppose it’s time I revealed something of my destiny, miniscule as my purpose may seem from the exalted heights trod by royalty.”

  Now it was Josh’s turn to look puzzled.

  “I do have some interesting connections, Sire.”

  “What are you saying? Speak plainly,” Josh demanded.

  “I know how to make contact with the rebel leaders,” Quiggle said.

  “Are you telling me you belong to the rebellion, Quiggle?” Josh couldn’t believe it.

  “I have used my diplomatic skills to establish links with the rebels,” the valet said modestly. “Vortigen would no doubt consider me a traitor if he knew, but I am not a rebel Sire. I like to think of myself as an intermediary. A peacemaker in waiting, if you will. Charlie Underwood puts up with me because he thinks he might be able to use me for his own ends at some point in the future. It’s a tenuous position, to be sure, but necessary I think.”

  “Yet again you surprise me, Quiggle!” Josh cried.

  “We all have our little secrets,” Quiggle smirked, obviously pleased with Josh’s attention.

  66

  Traitor’s Grove was hidden in the very heart of the Gallian Forest, and only tho
se trusted by the Rebellion were given directions to the place. Quiggle was counted among the Rebellion’s friends, and had been shown the way by Charlie Underwood himself.

  Josh Dempster was another matter entirely.

  “You should not have brought him here,” Charlie grumbled, glancing at the boy.

  “I tell you he can be trusted.”

  “Look at the way he’s dressed!” Charlie hissed, jerking his head toward Josh.

  “Don’t judge him by his clothes, Charles. They only serve as a reminder that he could be in the Emerald Palace right now, at Vortigen’s side. Instead he chose to save his friends and join the rebellion. How many others have risked so much for the honour of being called a traitor!”

  “How do I know it’s not a trick?”

  “Talk to him.”

  “And even if I do come to trust him, how am I going to explain this peacock to my comrades?”

  “Let him address the assembly. At least grant that opportunity.”

  Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, giving Quiggle a resentful look. “You have overstepped the bounds of my trust, friend,” he said. “If I wasn’t absolutely certain of your good will, I would have ended this interview before it began.” Then he turned to Josh. “Why should I trust you, boy?” he demanded, summoning Josh to join them.

  “Whether you trust me or not, I am going to fight Vortigen, sir; and whether you like me or not, I am your ally.”

  “Oh-ho!” Charlie cried. “I don’t know if I can trust you, but I do like a lad with pluck.”

  “May I ask you something?”

  “I thought I was supposed to be asking the questions, but when royalty makes a request, I suppose even rebels should be prepared to grant it. Ask away.”

  “You were a child when you died, as were most of the spirits in Syde.”

  “True.”

  “Then why am I the only boy in Vortigen’s realm? I’ve seen men, and women, and goblins, but not a single child — other than my friends Millie and Ian. Do spirits continue to grow after they are separated from their bodies?”

  “You are an inquisitive sort,” the rebel said. “Yes, we grow, but not the same way you in Outworld do. Spirits in Syde take on the form that matches their personality. They are transformed by their own ideas. So if I think myself a handsome, dashing rebel, why, so I am!”

  “Not to mention a shameless braggart,” Quiggle teased, drawing a mischievous grin from Charlie.

  “If I think myself a brave and loyal soldier, I end up in Vortigen’s Royal Guard,” Charlie continued. “If I entertain lowly, cruel thoughts, I might eventually become a goblin, the kind that precedes Lord Vortigen on his visits to Outworld.”

  “So if I appear as Prince Josh in all his finery . . . ”

  “Then my fellows will believe that your outward appearance is an accurate expression of who you are — much more so than would be the case in Outworld. You have hit the nail on the head.”

  “How do these transformations come about?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Charlie answered, scratching his head. “It is the effect of this place on us, but don’t ask me how it operates.”

  “If I appeared differently, then, it might help your comrades accept me?”

  “It might,” Charlie agreed.

  Josh closed his eyes. He thought of his home on Tenth Avenue. He saw his mum and dad, the chestnut-lined street, their funky house with its view of Vancouver. Then he imagined himself stepping out the front door, ready to jump on his skateboard and clatter off to Main Street. He felt comfortable in his baggy shorts, T-shirt, sneakers.

  “My God!” Charlie cried. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m doing what you told me to do — imagining who I really am.” Josh said.

  “But transformations happen over time!” Charlie protested. “I’ve never seen one take place instantaneously, or one that changed a Sydean into an Outworlder!”

  “I am what you see,” Josh insisted.

  Charlie hesitated, staring at the figure before him, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are very talented in the ways of magic,” he pronounced at last. “I hope you are as good at public speaking. I believe we can trust you, but the decision to admit you to our movement is not up to me. You must persuade the assembly. You understand there is a risk.”

  Josh nodded. “If I don’t persuade them, you shall hold me prisoner.”

  “Agreed,” Charlie said, “Although, I don’t see how anyone, except Vortigen himself, could hold you against your will. Not with the powers you’ve displayed.”

  “I will abide by the will of the assembly,” Josh promised.

  Charlie smiled skeptically. “No sense waiting, then,” he said. “Into the fray! Follow me.”

  He turned and ushered them under the wooden arch that led into the amphitheater. Josh swallowed hard and followed like a prisoner on trial.

  “Gentlemen! Ladies!” Charlie shouted over the hubbub.

  The assembly paid no attention, chattering on like a tree full of starlings. They were discussing what they should do about Josh Dempster, the Crown Prince. Some were for instant imprisonment, others thought holding him for ransom might be best, still others thought he should be interrogated because he would have valuable information about Vortigen and the Emerald Palace.

  None stood in his favour.

  “GENTLEMEN! LADIES!” Charlie bellowed, causing a stir, a snicker, then a general lull in the conversation. “Before we condemn this lad, I think you should at least hear from him. I ask for your silence so the boy can speak.”

  “What do we want to hear from him?” a gruff voice challenged. “I say let’s imprison him and thwart Vortigen’s latest trick. He’s sent the boy into our midst.”

  “Hear, hear,” several seconded.

  “What have you to fear from hearing the lad out?” Charlie cried. “What kind of rebellion do we stand for, when we won’t let a boy speak in his own behalf? How will that infamous act be written up in our own history?”

  A murmur of agreement rippled through the amphitheatre. “He’s right,” one woman shouted. “You can’t condemn the boy without hearing him.”

  The crowd grumbled.

  “Agreed then!” Charlie seconded. “The boy shall speak.”

  He turned to Josh. “It’s your only chance lad, make good on it,” he advised gruffly, gesturing Josh toward the podium.

  Josh advanced shakily. He looked out at the faces surrounding him in the dappled light — angry faces, distrustful faces, mocking faces, anything but friendly faces. What a terrible thing it was to be condemned! If only the rebels could see beyond the circumstances of his case, to the truth in his heart. But they couldn’t. All they saw was the pompous young prince in a different set of clothes.

  Josh cleared his throat.

  “Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?” someone shouted.

  “Leave him alone, ya big lout,” a voice cut in, the same woman who had vouched for his right to speak. He hadn’t seen her the first time, but now he sought her out and caught her eye. She, in turn, held him in her fierce gaze. “She knows!” Josh thought, amazed. She knew the truth that lay stifled in his breast and urged him to speak with her hard, uncompromising stare.

  “Thank you,” he said to her, surprised at the way his voice carried.

  Was it really him speaking? He’d never spoken that way before — with force and conviction. But now a power to speak swelled inside him and his lone supporter smiled knowingly, giving her complete assent.

  “Thank you,” Josh said to her again. “You have given me courage to tell my strange tale.” He looked round the amphitheater, taking in every face. “If you choose to believe me, I will be grateful; if you do not, I will be grateful still that you have heard me out. It shows you are honourable men and women, and true enemies of tyranny.

  “And I tell you now, I am Vortigen’s enemy too. He tricked me into dishonouring myself, and his stratagem would have worked, if my dear friend
s had not rescued me. Because of them he has failed, and I will not serve him. I am as determined as any of you to see the rebellion succeed.”

  An approving murmur rippled through the assembly, but it was met by a counter-current of skepticism.

  Josh told them how he had been deceived by Endorathlil, how he had led an ordinary life until then, and how he was more surprised than anyone when Vortigen chose him as heir. “You cannot accuse me on that score,” he argued, “because the choice had nothing to do with me. Nothing whatever.” Then he explained how he had partaken of the feast at the Emerald Palace, and how the food and drink had weakened his mind, allowing Athelrod to brainwash him with temptations and magic, then how Millie and Ian had brought him to his senses.

  “I have learned much during my brief stay at the Emerald Palace, and all that I have learned is at your service. Let me join your cause. I swear, I will not dishonour myself again, but will prove a true friend.”

  Silence greeted these remarks. The rebels stared at him now as if he were some sort of exotic species in a zoo, and Josh stared back, confident he had spoken well.

  “You have heard what the boy had to say,” Charlie Underwood shouted. “I, for one, have no doubts as to his loyalty and courage. But we are a democratic assembly and mine is one voice among many. There is no time for debate in this matter. We must vote now. All those who would condemn Josh Dempster, raise your hands and voices.”

  Some in the audience looked about to see whose hands were raised. But not a single rebel cast a vote against Josh.

  “All those who are for admitting this fine young fellow into our company, raise your hands and voices now.”

  A deafening shout rang out in the amphitheater and a forest of hands shot up. “Hooray!” the rebels cheered, glad to show their support and relieved that they were of one mind in the matter. Charlie thumped Josh on the back, almost toppling him off the dais. “Well done, my boy,” he cheered, shaking Josh’s hand.

  “If I do end up staying in Syde, this is where I want to be,” Josh answered, his voice barely audible over the cheers. “You must believe that, and you must believe all that I have said about being a friend of the rebellion.”