by J. R. Wagner
“I do not,” Margaret said stoically.
“You do not?” Stuart asked, obviously not expecting this response. “You must remember the conversation we had.”
Margaret was intent on not playing his game. If he wanted someone to repeat that nonsense from last night he’d have to do it himself.
“Conversation? We spoke about your time away, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary?” Stuart said, clearly upset. “Then you don’t remember anything I told you last night?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
Abruptly Tabitha walked behind Margaret’s chair and gently laid her fingers on Margaret’s head. Before she could object, Tabitha removed her hands and stepped back to the center of the room. She extended her arm, palm up. A small blue light floated just above her palm. It grew until it spanned the width of her hand. Tabitha gently tossed the orb into the air and it continued its expansion. The instant it reached its apex, the blue light filled the room.
Suddenly Margaret was watching herself sitting in a chair speaking with her husband in their library. She saw him somehow lift the chair in which she sat without using his hands. Her heart raced as she realized again what he was trying to tell her. The scene disappeared, and they were back in the cottage. Margaret’s hands were shaking.
“I remember,” she whispered.
“We are not trying to frighten you, but time is of the essence, darling.”
There it is, she thought, We. They were together even though they refused to admit it. And darling? She’d never heard that one before. Tears worked their way out of her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She stood and turned her back on them, gazing into the fire.
“Margaret, dear. I know you are afraid. Lord knows I was when I found out. But we must think of others. We must think of our son,” Stuart pleaded.
She turned suddenly stone faced and looked at the pair. “Others? Think of others? You dare to tell me to show some consideration while you’ve been running off with this woman for the last six months and . . . What has any of this got to do with our son?”
“For God’s sake, Margaret. I understand why you would make such a presumption, but it’s neither accurate nor true. We haven’t the time to bicker over trivialities. This has everything to do with our son. All of it. Not myself. Not Tabitha. There is somewhere we must go. Right now. Only then will you understand what is so important. So urgent.”
Margaret saw the same look Stuart had given her back at the manor house and knew she had no choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt. She would go.
— 12 —
Harbor Town
James couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Kilani offered little information about the place she was taking him to and even less about anything else. They had run the entire way from the clearing, through the tunnel, and into the jungle behind Harbor Town. The pair stepped out of the jungle into an old, generic coastal town. Two large buildings on pilings stood sentry over the long wharf that stretched between the shore and the end of the pier. Smaller buildings stood over the water abreast the larger pair on either side of the woodplanked jetty. More buildings stood where the jungle ended and the sandy shore began. Several dozen people walked about. One man pushed a cart full of fruit James had never seen. A woman stood beside a wooden cask yelling at anyone within shouting distance to come try a chalky-looking beverage called homeroot juice.
Kilani led James between the two buildings. A loud bell rang and they turned to watch men and woman crowd the dock and begin walking toward them.
“What’s going on?” James asked.
Before Kilani could respond, a voice from a balcony above quieted the crowd.
“Brothers and sisters of Harbor Town, we have a new arrival,” he shouted, walking down the rickety wooden steps to join the crowd that surrounded James and Kilani.
“What brings you to our fair land, my friend? Murder? Blasphemy? Treason?”
James thought the man looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. James guessed he was close to his father’s age—had his father still been living. He had a long, well-kept beard. A hint of gray streaked the light brown hair on his face and head, which was likewise long. His eyes shifted in their sockets in a way James found rather unsettling; it seemed almost as if the man had an illness of the head. James stood silent as the crowd waited for a reply.
“What say you, young man? A spy, perhaps?”
James looked at Kilani. She nodded reassuringly.
“I didn’t do anything. I was framed and banished.”
“Ahh, yes. A conspiracy. Why didn’t I think of that?” the man said facetiously. “We’re all innocent here on the Isle of Never. Tell us, what news from our world?”
All James could do was stare at the crowd. He moved his eyes from face to face. Each looked, well, normal (with the exception of the man with whom he was speaking). He couldn’t believe a place that appeared so common could exist in such a wild and remote environment. Yet here it was.
“Jungle raptor got your tongue, boy? Get him some homeroot juice. Always loosens the tongue,” the man shouted. The woman who’d been peddling it ran in an ungainly trot resembling a wounded animal down the dock to fetch the juice.
“This is Master Luno,” said Kilani.
“My, my. Such dreadful manners have I. My apologies. Yes, as the beautiful Kilani so duly noted, I am Luno. I speak for my brothers and sisters here at Harbor Town. Please tell us your name, traveler.”
“James Stuart,” said James.
The crowd started. He heard gasps and then silence. Luno smiled nervously.
“Have you a middle name, Master James?”
“I have. I’ve been given the name of my father. James Lochlan Stuart.”
The man gasped, and everyone in the crowd took a step back.
“Can it be? After all these years?” Luno said in almost a whisper.
“What is it?” James asked, looking from Kilani to Luno.
“Let us speak in private,” Luno said, extending his hand and ushering James up the rickety wooden stairs to the balcony he had descended moments ago.
When they reached the balcony, James looked back down at Kilani with a longing expression for the only person he’d known since his arrival. Luno, noticing the direction of his stare, yelled down.
“Oh, very well. Kilani, Join us. Up you come.”
She ascended the stairs and Luno led them into a large open room. The vaulted ceilings added to the spaciousness. In the center of the room was a low square table that was surrounded by cushions. Across from the entrance was a large window overlooking the sea. James passed a wall covered entirely by a meticulously detailed map. He felt the lure of the water as he gazed at the horizon.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” said Luno
“What?” James asked.
“All that ocean and yet you can sail for a hundred days and never lose sight of this land.”
“It’s an illusion?”
“Oh it’s real. As real as anything else in this place. Many men have met their ends in that sea. Nothing is as it seems here, James. Beneath the surface are things more wonderful and terrible than you can possibly imagine. Reality, as it is in The Never, is much like reality in the world from whence you came . . . and much different.”
“What is this place?” asked James
“Some say it is another world. They believe there is a magical link between our world and it, which enables one to travel between the two. Others think it is a place on our world simply hidden by magical enchantments of such extraordinary power that only the greatest of our kind could possibly find it.”
“And what do you believe?”
“A fine question, my boy. Fine question. Again Luno’s eyes darted with such rapidity that James was sure the man would fall over into spasms. I promise you this. Before you depart, I will tell you what I believe. For now, you must be satisfied with that.”
“Ve
ry well,” James replied.
“Please sit,” Luno said, extending his hand to the cushions beside the table. Kilani and James sat.
“Where are my manners? Tea, anyone?”
Without waiting for a reply, Luno picked up a kettle from the side table and poured the clear liquid into three cups. Luno sat quickly opposite James with Kilani to his left. Luno opened a small wooden box on the tray. Inside were dried leaves.
“Anon leaves. Named after the gentleman who discovered them, poor bloke. Anyway, best damn tea I’ve ever tasted comes from these little beauties.”
He gave the box a tap and three equal portions made their way into the cups. The liquid inside the cups changed to a deep amber color. An intoxicatingly fragrant smell slowly rose from the cups.
“Cheers,” he said with a smile, raising his cup. He set it down without taking a sip.
As James raised the cup to his lips, Kilani shook her head. He lowered the cup despite his desire to taste its fine-smelling contents.
“Now, I suppose you have some questions for me.”
Kilani quickly stood and cleared the table, removing the dangerous liquids.
“Thank you, Kilani,” said Luno, never taking his eyes off James. “Damn good stuff, Roger leaves, wouldn’t you agree?”
James simply nodded his head.
“Now, your questions, my boy.”
“So much has happened so quickly, I’m not sure where to begin,” James said.
“Perhaps I can help as I’ve had this conversation numerous times. Although—” he paused for a moment, thinking to himself. “Well, we’ll get to that. The first question I usually get is where am I? To which I reply, you’re in The Never, in the quaint costal villa of Harbor Town to be exact. Then they ask what is The Never? To which I reply, it is where you go when you’ve been really, really naughty.”
“How do I get back?” James asked.
“Back? Why on earth would you want to go back? This place can be whatever you want it to be. For me, it is a home. For others, it is a prison or nothing more than a final resting place. Of all those things, going back is not one of the options. There is no going back. Never, hence the name.”
“But there must be a way. If we got here, there must be a way to get back.”
“Son, I’ve been here two lifetimes. I’ve watched men lose their minds simply thinking about getting off this rock.”
His eyes shifted again and James wondered if Luno had actually lost his mind.
“Everyone who has tried, has died. The sooner you eliminate leaving as an option the better.”
“How can that be?”
“There are more mysteries than answers on this island. I have some answers yet this is not one of them.”
“I meant, how can you have been here that long? You look—”
“Time in The Never is not like time where we come from, James. It affects us all differently here. I learned to embrace it once I managed to stop allowing it to consume me.”
James stood, and he could smell the scent from the teacups that now rested safely on a shelf beside the nearly wall-size map. His mind immediately cleared. He inhaled again, and his senses grew more refined. He closed his eyes and listened to his own heartbeat. He could feel his blood flowing inside him. And then, in his mind’s eye, he saw the black castle. It called to him and beckoned him, and he yearned to heed its call.
“Slow down, son. Control yourself, or you will be controlled by this place,” said Luno as if he could sense what was happening inside James’s mind.
James pushed the image of the castle out of his mind. “Why did everyone react like that back there? When I said my name?”
Luno exhaled. The chipper upbeat man of moments ago washed away as he slowly stood. He walked to the window overlooking the ocean and stared at the sea.
“The first man to come here. Rather, the first man to be exiled to this place, because nobody comes here voluntarily, spent years scouring the island. One day, after months of being lost in the jungle, he wandered onto the beach. There was an outcropping of rocks that spilled out into the ocean.”
Luno stepped quickly to the wall with the giant map painted on it and pointed to an outcropping on the southeastern part of the island. “We call it the spine,” he said.
“I’ve been there,” replied James.
Luno and Kilani exchanged glances.
“What of it?” James asked, his heart beating faster.
“This man climbed to the top in hopes of gaining a better vantage point. When he reached the top he saw it . . . the black castle. It called to him, as it calls to all who set eyes upon it.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the castle,” James said, stepping in front of Luno excitedly and placing his finger at the end of the spine. “Here.”
Again Kilani and Luno exchanged looks.
“What do you imply with your knowing glances that I am not meant to know?” James asked, growing frustrated.
“The Black Castle presents itself only to those it chooses. Very few have ever set eyes upon it,” said Luno, stepping in front of James and marking the area where James’s finger had come to rest with a piece of charcoal.
“This man,” Luno continued, “became obsessed with the notion of gaining entry. One day not long after claiming to see the thing—at that time I believed he’d simply gone mad having never seen it myself—he disappeared never to be seen again.”
Luno finished writing notes on a piece of paper and turned back to James.
“The man left several messages. The first, carved into a stone on the southernmost point of the island,” Luno said, pointing to the long tail at the bottom of the map labeled ‘Southern Cape,’ “are three letters: JLS.”
“That could mean anything,” James said.
“True,” Luno replied turning to the window. “But then I found another clue.”
He turned back with a smile and excitedly moved toward a large trunk beneath the map.
“The second message left behind was a scroll of paper that contained a single sentence written in this man’s distinctive hand.”
He lifted the lid and began sorting through the trunk’s contents.
“Upon the scroll was written—” Luno removed a tatteredlooking scroll, carefully unfurled it and read: “To my successors, the way to salvation is through he who I’ve previously referenced.”
“From those two pieces of inane information many of the folk here have concluded that this man is a seer, or was anyway. And he foretold of a man, JLS, who would get us off this rock.”
“And what do you believe?” James asked.
“As I’ve said, we are all damned to an eternity of suffering or death on this place. The only way out is by taking Death’s clammy hand—except in my case where Death has refused me, and I’m simply left to suffer until the end of time.”
James looked at Luno, confused. Luno shook his head as if to make the thought disappear.
“May I see that?” James asked, pointing to the scroll.
Luno’s eyes shifted as he reluctantly handed the scroll to James. Carefully, James stretched the scroll across the table. As he read the message, James thought the writing had a familiar quality to it . . . and then he knew why. Beneath the message in his distinct tightly scrolled writing, was the signature of Akil Karanis.
— 13 —
Mister Ammoncourt
August 1889, France
Six-year-old James turned the corner at full speed and barreled into his father’s legs, nearly knocking him over. Stuart and Margaret stood in the finely manicured gardens behind the large house. Stuart crouched to James’s level with a smile.
“What is it son? Shouldn’t you be with your instructor?” “I want to show you something,” he replied, excitedly. “James, you need to return to your lessons,” Margaret said.
James turned his gaze to his father, knowing he was the most lenient of the pair.
“Quickly,” Stuart said, looking reassuringly at Margaret. She let out
a sigh but said nothing. The pair turned and watched as their son took several steps back.
James stopped at the end of the flagstone path and faced his parents with an excited smile. “Goratu,” James said, holding his arms out. The last several stones in the path lifted from their long-undisturbed positions and rose several inches into the air. Stuart laughed and clapped.
“Well done, boy,” Stuart said.
“I’m not done yet,” James replied.
“Well, then,” Stuart said, looking at his wife with a proud smile.
James moved his arms and the stones began to align themselves into a row. Once aligned, each stone rose slightly higher than the next until they formed a set of steps. James stepped up onto the first stone slowly. He moved to the second. As soon as his foot left the first, that stone moved up the line creating another step. James continued to climb. With every step, each successive stone moved to the front of the row. When he reached roughly fifteen vertical feet, James paused and looked down at his parents.
“Now watch this,” he said excitedly.
Without waiting for a response, James took off at full speed. The stones matched his rate of ascension as he ran up the floating staircase. In a matter of seconds, James had climbed higher than the roof of the house.
“My, God!” Stuart said, marveling at his son’s accomplishment.
James stopped and looked down upon at his parents. Even from more than sixty feet above them he could make out their proud smiles.
“James, come down now,” Margaret yelled.
Each stone except the one upon which James stood rotated then lowered creating a descending staircase. Slowly, James made his way back down to the garden.
“What do you think?” he asked, as the last stone settled into its place along the path.
“Very impressive,” Stuart said. “When did you learn that?”
“Just now.”
Stuart and Margaret exchanged glances.
“Run along,” Margaret said. “You don’t want to keep Mr. Ammoncourt waiting.”
James took off at the same breakneck speed at which he had arrived, making his way excitedly around the house. Stuart and Margaret looked at each other and laughed. Stuart took her hands and pulled her close. There was an energy between them neither had felt since shortly after James was born. Margaret ran her hand over the stubble on Stuart’s cheek. He leaned in and kissed her, pulling her close, his body touching hers.