Pagewalker

by C. Mahood

  Oisin moved and sat beside me. Sarah and Tessa were falling asleep in the big armchair in front of the embers. He leant close and spoke to me in a way of a whisper. “Why did you not kill him?” He asked.

  “I don't really know Oisin, I had the blade to his throat, I wanted to spill his blood all over the ground but on the moment before I pierced his skin, I had a vision.” Oisin sat back in shock of my statement,

  “A vision?” he asked

  “A vision you say?” Came a voice from behind Oisin. The bard stood only two feet from where we were. He was listening intently.

  “Yea, I mean I had these flashes of different people, different scenarios, I saw through the eyes of the kid who tormented me in school, I saw the reason the old man near us was always angry. That's when I saw through his eyes.” I gestured to the sleeping man beside me, “I saw his childhood, his upbringing, his family struggling, I saw how close he was to his brother, I saw me killing his brother in front of him. Not just saw it Oisin, I felt it, my heart broke for him then. In his eyes I am the villain. I mean I am in this scenario. How could I take his life. I am just as bad, if not worse Oisin!” Tears welled in my face as I re-lived what I had seen once more. I continued, interrupting Oisin before he even spoke, “I Did not want to kill him, my heart changed, I feel like it's the first time I have ever truly understood and believed forgiveness, I used to talk about it in church, or pretend when shouted at by my mother, but it is the most powerful thing I have ever felt. I needed it from him. If I killed him I would never be able to explain about his brother.” Wiping the tears away I put my hand on his shoulder. His massive, skull crushing, Ironwood snapping shoulder. “I need him to know I never meant to hurt or let alone kill his brother. I was aught up in the tussle. The staff was caught, I didn’t even know there was a blade inside it. I was trying to pull it free when I fell back and pierced his brother. It was all bad luck and circumstance. I want him to see my heart, to know that I will never forget. It will be a burden I have to carry for the rest of my life, however long it lasts, A constant stain on my soul. I need him to Know Oisin. I need forgiveness, I need him to see through my eyes.”

  My eyes were blurry as hell though, swimming behind tears. The bard was kneeling down beside me now. He was muttering to himself and holding something covered in what looked like a potato sack. Well, at least that sort of material, itchy as Sarah would call it.

  “The visions, they ain’t just visions” He muttered softly.

  “Sorry?” I questioned.

  “They are truth.” She said softly again.

  “Truth?”

  “Yes, you see its to do with prophecy, divine destiny, magic and provisional enchantment!” He said excitedly before laying into a monologue of large words no one could understand, like a doctor explaining the symptoms like rhinovirus or coronavirus as a viral infection attacking respiratory systems and affecting a c02 count in the blood, when in fact all they had to do was tell you that it was just a common cold. I put my hand up in front of his face and made the slow down gesture until he finally stopped.

  “You are going to have to dumb it down a bit there mate, you've lost me.” I said

  “Well ok,” He spoke slower, like a teacher explaining the concept of multiplication for a three year old. “You see, when you wrote Dertrid's Deed and subsequently created Northland you had written a pure truth. Not a depiction of the truth but actual fact. So when the book was brought here the very first time it was in fact gospel. Pages of pure truth. Known commonly as magic. The thing is, those pages are in fact magic in its purest form. When you come in contact and get closer to the magic it is like an animal that was torn apart but still survives, getting close to the other part of its body. It grows stronger. Gains abilities is never knew it had. As you get closer to the pages in which you first wrote of Northland, you are gaining abilities and powers you had never dreamt of. So those are not mere visions, but you are seeing truth. You are creating truth and magic.”

  We were all silent for what seemed like the longest time as this sank in.

  “but, you said I was getting closer to the original pages? How? They were gone, stolen by Abe and taken here?” I asked.

  “Yes, that is true, in my many years sitting in the court of King Dertrid I have heard many stories and seen the effects of many battles and wars fought over those pages. Abe used them, lost them and sold them over years. The remaining pages were put into collections by both the dwarves and the Dark elves.” The bard continued, it all started to click with me then, like the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, the larger picture was coming together.

  “That is what you and Oisin had gathered when you travelled together to the dwarf city and Xill?” I blurted out, like a child at the front of class after just realising the answer and wanting recognition for his quick intellect.

  “Precisely!” Oisin and the bard replied in unison. Oisin sat back grinning with a closed mouth and a raised eyebrow. He reclined like a chess master after deciding the final three moves in every scenario, securing his victory before the realisation of his opponent. He had seen this coming for a while and orchestrated it into fruition.

  “You cleaver bastard.” is all I could say to him. “Wait though, you say I am seeing truth. So you mean everything I saw through his eyes was real? Is it because I touched him?” I asked.

  “Well, yes, obviously,” The bard dismissed in an over exaggerated manor. As though agreeing to the time.

  “So when I held his head I saw through his eyes? I know now what he saw, I did not need convinced, or to trust, I know? So if I were to try again I could make him see what I have seen so he may know?” I asked again.

  The bard's face turned in on its self, his arms folded at the same time as Oisin both, like twins were leaning forward now from their respective positions. Both rubbing their chins like ancient elders in a council meeting.

  They both agreed as to why there is no reason it couldn’t happen. Oisin's question was, should it happen? We thought on this for a while, I wanted, in my impatient and impulsive nature just wanted to show him now and be done with it, but the better minds around me talked me down. Of course, Sarah had the answer, as usual. I didn’t even know she was awake. She has a habit of doing that.

  “Love, if what I am hearing is true, you have been saying that truth is the purest form of magic. You have been talking about how forgiveness is the strongest form of power. I think that may be true. If you have the power to forgive someone you are a stronger person, right?” She said. We all agreed, she went on. “You forgave this brute, thing, man, because you knew what he had seen. Imagine if forgiveness was accomplished and given through trust. By not seeing the truth but by simply believing it?”

  Our mouths hit the floor. Like, literally.

  “Wait, What?” I managed to splutter out.

  “Well he has the power to overcome his sins, and his past, by forgiving what, or who, is in front of him. He can change his path by choosing what to believe, rather than the truth choosing it for him, right?” She said,

  “Who are you?” I choked out. “And what have you done with my wife?”

  “Oh shut up, ya big tit!” She said embarrassed and blushing, her face flushing a light shade of rose. “You know what I'm trying to say right?”

  “Your saying I need to be honest, tell him the truth and just hope that he sees the truth and forgives me?” I asked, both eyebrows now up high curling my brow in an unsure question way.

  “Aye, and if that doesn’t work, then do the whole laying on the hands thing sure?” She turned around in her chair again, facing the fire, petting Tessa's head on her lap and closed her eyes again as the heat stroked her smooth, silky face.

  A voice came then that startled us all, not just from disbelief, but from fear and shock. The brute had opened his eyes without any of us knowing.

  “There is no need for that.” Is all he said, meanwhile we had all jumped back a few paces. Oisin stood peering out from behind the doorway i
nto the kitchen, only his hands and top of his head could be seen, behind him crouched the Bards the same way, only peering from behind Oisin instead of the doorway. Sarah was backing slowly backwards from the chair, creeping backwards towards the stairs at the far side of the room. I had fallen back and had lifted the stool Oisin was sitting on earlier above my head like a three legged baton. My eyes darted to his bindings as he began to sit up. Now, I’m not being cocky when I say I'm kind of strong. Well I'm really very strong, you would not think it by looking at me, but believe me when I say, there is no jar I have come across that I have not been able to open! That very important fact aside, I can tie a pretty good knot. And with thick strong leather, I have no idea how the brute was now loosening the strap from his feet like a bow on a Brazilian’s bikini. He had already undone the ones from his wrists and was rubbing them now like an inmate released into the yard from a maximum security prison. He simply laughed as he saw the state of us.

  “I said there is no need to lay any more hands on me!” He was sitting upright on the bench now, stretching his back, arms and cracking his neck in a quick sharp series of clicks and pops.

  “Now listen here, I could have killed you but I didn't, I wanted to tell...” I began but was stopped mid sentence, by his hand raised in front of his face. His index finger extended and rested vertically on his lips. He waited like that till I had calmed and carried on is an eerily calm voice.

  “I heard what you said,”

  “How much of it” I replied,

  “Enough,”

  “How did you get out of your bindings?”

  “Oh these? They came of as you were dragging me to the bench here.” he chuckled. (Ok its been a good 18 years since I was in scouts, forgive me for believing my knots were better than they really are.)

  “so you have been awake all this time without your hands of feet tied?”

  “Yea, long enough to have got’n up and snapped all of your necks, if I wanted to!” He winked then smiled a cheeky grin. “But don't worry, I heard what you said, and I know who you are. I will be damned if I put a finger on the God of Northland!”

  (God of Northland, that's got a good ring to it right? No? Just me then?)

  “Well I’m not a God, per-se.” I said embarrassed “But yea, I kind of created this place.” I gestured around the house. I think he knew what I meant however. I could see tears welling in his eyes. He just stared at me for the longest time before looking down at his feet. A tear fell to the ground, then another and another. A small puddle formed by his toes. He was looking at his hands, turning them, over and over like he had stains on them that he did not remember getting. I knew what he was seeing though. I see it to when I look at my own. Its the blood of others. The blood may not be visible to anyone but you but, its always there.

  “I have done some terrible things Sir.” His gaze catching mine. “Things I will never amend.” His head dropped forward again, he sniffed, rubbed his eyes then put his head in his hands. I had seen what he had seen. I knew the anger he felt as he watched brother die, I knew the loss he felt. I felt alone and scared as he did. Masked by his stature, was a child, longing for his brother and plagued, and infected with a terminal guilt.

  Oisin and the bard had made their way back into the front room, sitting side by said on the far end of a bench beside the dinner table like cowering puppies scared of their owner. Afraid of the beating stick with tails between their legs. Sarah was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs and Tessa cowered between her feet.

  “I saw what you had seen you know?” He said, looking up now at me again. “When you had the vision, I had it too.” The bard stood up slowly and walked forward.

  “Shared visions, very interesting.” he sat down farther down the bench and pondered the meaning. The brute went on. He told me of what he had seen and felt of me. He told me how he saw my experience in my school In a strange land. Of my heartaches, my misdeeds, my loss of Sarah, my adventures trying to find her and what had come since. He had not however seen the events that killed his brother. I recanted the story for him. Both of us blubbering wrecks as I did so. In the end we embraced. We had found in ourselves the truest form of Magic, The power of forgiveness. Believe me please when I tell you, it is good stuff. It lifts burdens, weight and worry. It is the truest form of magic and an essential part of human nature that seems to have been forgotten or pushed out in place of greed. I will not bore you with reciting all the conversation we had that evening and into the morning, then into the following evening. I wont go over how everyone bonded and grew in those hours together. Bonded together like a new family. All with stories and gifts to bring to the metaphorical table, and some to the physical one!

  We got to know each other so well and spend that time together like a family bonding after an ordeal, making us all stronger.

  Late the following evening, during the course of the conversation Sarah and I must have been thinking the exact same thing, because we more, in unison, asked how we were to get home? We hadn’t considered it until now really How were we to return home?

  After a quick run upstairs with one finger held high like he was struggling to keep a thought from slipping of the tip of it, The Bard descended from the first floor with a box bound in leather and material. We opened it and lifted the old, dirty, ripped and stained pages from it. Looking over that manuscript I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and just plane awestruck. All this, this entire world had spanned from the imagination of an anxiety, sad and angry teenager!

  Oisin and the bard explained the spell and how it worked that would send up home. To be honest, it was another rambeling session between both Oisin and the Bard, and Oisin with himself. The gist of it was this however.

  “Chris, do you remember the very first time we spoke?” Oisin asked me.

  “Aye, you were talking bloody rubbish to yourself!” I replied, much to the amusement of everyone around the table. Oisin carried on,

  “Well, I said to you it is all a test in Northaland, Everything here is always a test. After discovering who you were and coming across Sarah I thought your Test was to find your love, to know that above all else was what should be important to you, you know, really fairy, and old fish wives tales etc?” I nodded in agreement, “...But you already knew that, that truth was, and always had been in your heart. Only now do I see what the test was. Do you know now what it is Chris?”

  I sat back and pondered, was it to fall in love with my creations? Or maybe it was to find that family is what I needed? Maybe even it was just to stop Abe and Garret? No, it was all of those and more.

  “I think so Oisin, It was to find something I have been struggling with all my life. To find true magic, Not just by reclaiming the Pages of Dertrid's deed, a book here that hold more power than any but to find a magic more pure than anything else in existence. Even stronger than love. You see you can love those you forgive but you can not truly forgive without love. I needed to Find a reason to be truly forgiven and truly forgive without selfish notions. I can not, or no one can, change what happened to them, but we can change the way we perceive it and deal with it. Moving forward must be done without shackles. We need to amend our mistakes, learn from them, grow from them and become free because of them. This is true magic. Magic that can not be taught or recited, Magic that has to be lived, and can be lived by every person. That was my Test, to Understand magic. I now believe I do.” The pages in front of me began to shake. A light grew from them, a light so bright I was blinded. The table began to shake and we all grabbed onto each other, like the climax of a seance movie, we were blown and thrown all over the room, up, down, left right, side to side. Like Lego shaken by a child. It seemed to last forever until the light faded like a dimer switch on a chandler. Darkness slowly fell on the room once more, the wind had stopped and little towers of smoke grew from the candles.

  We were still.

  The room was calm.

  All that remained in front of us was a small leather bound book, De
rtrid’s Deed. It was bound tight, the size of a small Gideon bible and the same colour, a wine red. I lifted it and put it in my pocket. We didn't need to say much after that. All that needed to be said just happened.

  The next morning we made our way back to the standing stones on the North coast of Northland. I was excited but knew that there was more that needed done. We passed the burnt and black remains of the Rebels Rest. We parted ways with the Brute there. By the way, we did get his name, I decided to leave it until now to tell you all. I wanted to convey my feeling at the time to you while I was describing that scenario. His name was Jarl, Fitting name for the man he became. I never saw him again but the life he carried on to live is worth another book on its own. A story so great I will be sure to tell you another time. I heard he re-built the Rebels Rest in an attempt to make up for his wrongs, but his greatest story is much better than that.

  We said our goodbyes and headed north again. I knew the news would travel fast to Renir and once I had written more of Oisin’s story I knew he would be taken to his place of Power in Renir and live a life of purpose and wealth. I knew I would not have to make changes to his story, the Bard of Aondor would be sure to inform King Dertrid of the events and his name would be elevated in that court, but I still did, just in case.

  We made camp by the stones, we ate together for one last time. Enjoying each others company a final time before we returned home. Tessa was playing fetch on the hillside while Oisin lay the final pieces in a circle on the ground. He had drawn a series of triangles surrounded by candles. It looked borderline satanic, but I just thought it looked cool. The time was upon us and we were ready to pass over again.