by Jake Kerr
There were two forces at work while I examined all of the intricate runes and engravings. The one was the wonderful feeling that I instinctively knew the power of the staff that was revealed to me—light. Light just made perfect sense at a every level. I could not say that I understood how, but at least I understood. It was like understanding breathing. You may not know how you breathe, but you know you can breathe.
The other force was one of frustration over everything else. I didn’t understand how my grandfather blew things up or sent out bolts of destruction. The concept of a shield was equally beyond me. It seemed like mastering the cane was a hopeless goal. I vaguely understood the runes, but it was like memorizing the notes on a piano and expecting to be able to play Rachmaninoff the first time your fingers touch the keys.
Many minutes later, or perhaps even hours, Mister Ali stirred. He stretched his arms and then turned in his seat. As he looked at me, he smiled, but I could see that he hadn’t slept well. His face was worn and haggard. He still looked immensely tired. He gracefully swung his legs over his seat and slid next to me.
“My dear Tommy. How are you?”
“I’m a little hungry, but I feel good. I’ve been working on the cane, and it’s challenging.”
Mentioning the cane brought a smile to Mister Ali’s lips. “Tommy. Of course it is. I would expect no less.”
“Could you maybe show me how Grandfather used it? Show me how he held it or what he did?” I lowered my head. “I’m afraid that all I can do is make light.”
“Don’t be discouraged! Although learning the staff will not be so simple as me showing you how to hold it.” At this point Mister Ali touched me lightly on the chest with his finger. “But you can do it, Tommy. I know you can. Remember, in all the world you are the only one who can unravel its power.”
For the first time it hit home that I was perhaps special for more than just being one of the people—Archmages—who had carried the staff. The prospect was not a little frightening, and I clutched at a way out, not because I wanted to use it, but because it was reassuring to know it was there. “But you are a Archmage, too. You can take the staff if you want to!”
“Remember, Tommy, I was but a messenger. I carried the staff to your grandfather, nothing more. Even during that short time, I could tell that it was not meant for my hands. I am an Archmage by chance; you are one by nature. So as much as I would love to remove this burden from you, I cannot. No one can, and, as I did for your grandfather, I will do my best to prepare you.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Mister Ali. I just can’t seem to grasp how to control it.”
“Yes. It is unfair that you bear the staff in these circumstances, but it is not to be avoided.” Mister Ali added, “A voyage along Nar Marratum is not the best place to teach you about the staff, its history, and the steps to learning how to master it.” He motioned beyond the boat. “The magic is too oppressive for me to concentrate.” I couldn’t sense anything but fast-moving water, but I nodded in agreement anyway. “All I can tell you now is to let the staff guide you as you investigate its power. Its voice is confusing and hard to fathom, but it will be your best guide for now.”
I was about to speak, but Mister Ali stood to return to his seat. He smiled, his face again full of weariness, and said, “But let’s speak no more of it. The time will come when we can; I will let you know when that time is.”
What I wanted to say but kept to myself was that the staff was not confusing or difficult at all. The best way to describe it was that the staff spoke to me in a myriad of voices. What was difficult was that I could understand only one. That voice spoke with complete clarity, but the others were muddled.
I had hoped that Mister Ali could translate those other voices. But he described something much different. For the first time as the bearer of the staff, it struck me that I would ultimately be my own teacher.
Mister Ali sat upright, his eyes looking out into the distance. He didn’t move, but occasionally his head would nod, and I knew that he was not meditating—he was fighting the urge to rest.
I took to practicing with the staff. I had by now understood how to easily manipulate the magical light of the cane, and I delighted myself by dimming it and making it bright. Mister Ali either didn’t notice as he dozed or he didn’t care, for he continued to remain still.
Eventually, I learned how to focus the beam of light, and I sent strong beams toward the banks, the ceiling, and into the depths of the water. I focused the light to such intensity that its beam shone far into the distance, but no matter how strong I made the light, I could see nothing but darkness at its end.
When I got bored of peering into the darkness, I created multiple beams of light that shot in all directions. As time wore on I learned to control even these, and I playfully aimed them at the tops of waves in the river, trying to hit as many as I could at one time. I became quite proficient at this and realized that I was moving the staff around to facilitate my aim. It reminded me of Grandfather using the cane’s sword as he reflected the floodlight at the Shadows. I wondered if the light of the cane would be considered artificial light, but then immediately dismissed the idea—if it were then my grandfather would have simply used the cane to disperse the Shadows. The possibility that my grandfather didn’t know how to draw light from his own magical cane never crossed my mind.
I tired of playing with the light and closed my eyes as I tried to think of other things I could do with the staff. One of my first disappointments was realizing that I couldn’t use the staff to communicate with or observe others. I had tried to focus on my grandfather, to see if he was safe, but the staff remained silent.
I looked at the water churning behind the boat and had a new idea—guiding the boat. I considered the possibility, examining runes and opening my mind to the staff. I focused on utilizing the staff to defeat the river and take us where I wanted to go, but there was simply no answer.
I decided to put the staff in the water and guide the boat that way, and while I realized I had no indication it would work, I couldn’t see anything wrong with it, either. I held the staff firmly in both my hands and turned toward the rear of the boat. The water thrashed in front of me as we sped forward.
I turned and faced the river. I knew where I wanted to go. I wanted to go home to New York. I wanted to save my grandfather. I would save him. I squeezed tight. It was just me, the river, and the staff itself.
I want to go home, I thought, and plunged the end of the staff into the river.
The boat immediately bucked to the side and then the other. It wasn’t enough to toss us into the water, but it woke Mister Ali. “Tommy, what is going on!” he exclaimed as he turned in his seat. I turned to tell him everything was okay, but the boat bucked again spilling Mister Ali onto the floor. The alarm in his face frightened me.
I looked down at the water as it thrashed around the cane, violent and chaotic. The force of the water tugged at my arms, but I held on. Home, I thought, focusing all my energy on pushing the boat in that direction, whichever it might be.
The river fought back.
The boat rolled left and right. It took all my effort to keep my balance. The water where I had placed the staff was a cauldron of bubbles and white froth. The cane jerked back and forth. I could hear Mister Ali on the edge of my consciousness telling me to stop, but all I was focusing on was keeping my grip on the cane and getting home. The staff started to heat up and I felt myself being pulled forward. I set my feet and tried to hold my ground.
The boat shook more violently, and any thought of controlling it left my mind as I focused solely on stopping and getting the staff back into the boat. I was too weak, and the pull on the staff was too strong. What started as a slow tug turned into my body sliding toward the edge of the boat and the water. I held steady for a moment, and then I felt a horrific wrenching as my body was thrown into the air at the same time the force pulling me toward the water pulled down. I waited for the inevitable splash and rush of wat
er over my head when a hand shot out and grabbed my arm. I looked back and saw Mister Ali, one arm grasping a wooden plank and the other holding my arm, his teeth clenched at the effort.
The pain was horrible as my body was used as the battleground between the river and Mister Ali. I ignored everything but focusing my thoughts on the staff. I looked for a solution, any solution. The cane was getting hot enough that it started to burn my hands, but I knew I would never lose my grip. And suddenly it hit me—I may not be able to direct the river but perhaps I could hurt it.
The power to control the river didn’t exist—that I knew—but the moment I considered whether the river could control or take the staff everything came together. Of course it couldn’t. The idea was preposterous. I laughed as instinct took over. If the river wanted to fight, I would fight. I needed to send a painful message, and I knew the staff would deliver it.
The water around the end of the cane turned jet black, and the force pulling me forward suddenly let go. I hurtled back into Mister Ali, scattering us across the bottom of the boat. I pulled myself to my knees as Mister Ali scrambled over to me.
“What have you done!” There was anger in his face as he looked at me.
“I’m sorry, Mister Ali.” I lowered my head. I felt stupid for doing something so risky without asking him first. “I thought I could guide us from the river. If I knew it would end this way, I never would have done it.”
“How else would it end?” Mister Ali’s anger again arose. “To think a child could command the Nar Marratum to do his whim…” Mister Ali stopped and looked at me, and his face softened. His voice was calm as he continued. “Tommy, I apologize. This is my fault. I told you to learn more about the staff.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “but it is dangerous to attempt things you don’t understand. In the future, let me know what you would like to practice, and I’ll give you whatever advice I can.”
There were a mass of conflicting emotions in my head. He was right that I had attempted something I didn’t understand—I knew that when I began. But I also knew that if I didn’t push myself I would never understand. I also trusted Mister Ali. His concern for me was always first and foremost. But I was also disappointed that he still didn’t seem to trust me even as he was telling me to trust myself.
I glanced back at the river, angry that I couldn’t control it in the end, and gasped. In the aftermath of my fight with the river Mister Ali and I had failed to notice that we were no longer on it. The boat was slowly spinning in a circle on a small placid underwater lake. The light from my cane reflected off of stone walls around us. The sound and violence of the river was gone, and we were surrounded by stillness and quiet. At the end of the cavern was a landing very similar to the one we left when we entered the boat.
“Our journey on the river has ended!” The joy in Mister Ali’s voice was clear. I thought back to the respect, if not fear, that was in his voice when we first approached the river, and realized that we could have been in for a much longer voyage. Mister Ali leaned over the edge of the boat and started to row with his hands. I leaned over the other side and did the same.
“Where are we?” I looked around, but could see nothing more than a large pool of water surrounded by stone.
“We won’t know until we leave this room. Look, there is our way out.” He pointed forward with an arm wet to the shoulder. I looked ahead and saw iron footholds on the far wall rising up from the floor and extending all the way to the ceiling. The footholds became lost in a blot of darkness that could have been a hole or a shadow.
“Those look like the handholds that lead out of a sewer,” I noted.
“Sewer… cistern… it could even be the exit from a cellar. The important thing to remember is that once we get out, we won’t be able to get back. So whatever we face, retreat is not an option.”
The boat made good progress, and it wasn’t long before I heard a splash as Mister Ali jumped into the water to guide the boat in. The water came up to his waist, but it quickly fell to his thighs and then to his knees as he pulled the boat up the landing. With a bump, the boat came to a stop, its prow grinding against stone.
Mister Ali took a step toward me and held out his arms. “No sense for both of us to get wet.” He smiled. I jumped into his arms, and he easily carried me the few steps to where it was dry.
I thanked him and looked around. “What now?” I looked at the rungs leading up into the darkness.
Mister Ali followed my gaze to the darkness. “The future awaits.”
CHAPTER SIX
PILES OF STICKS AND STONES
Mister Ali climbed ahead of me, the occasional squeak of his leather armor leading my way as his soft leather shoes made no sound. The rungs were cold and hard but not unbearable to climb. I was wearing the outfit I normally wore to the theater on Saturdays—khaki pants and a dress shirt. While not convenient for adventuring, it had the benefit of including leather shoes and a leather belt, both which helped in the climb. The shoes protected my feet from the iron rungs, while I tucked the cane into the belt. The only annoyance was that I had to stop often to tug on the belt, as the staff would slowly slip down. The worst part was that we had to climb in utter darkness, as the cane’s light extinguished the moment I took my hands off it.
“I see a light!” Mister Ali exclaimed. I looked up and saw a slight glow far above. “We must be careful. I am sure the river was not in a good mood when it decided where to leave us.”
I felt differently. As I wrenched the staff from the river, I felt that the river was as happy to have me gone as I was to leave. It was a battle to a draw—at least it felt like a battle to a draw—and I didn’t think the river had any conscious say on where we were deposited other than a spot where we wouldn’t be able to get back easily.
The dull light above slowly grew stronger, pushing back the frightening darkness. The rungs came up to a ledge and as Mister Ali looked over the lip, he described what he saw. “It’s the end of a mine shaft. There are rail tracks and electric lighting.”
He pulled himself up and then turned and pulled me up with ease. The moment I was on my feet, Mister Ali turned to the other direction and dropped into a crouched position. He looked ready to fight.
“We must be careful,” he whispered. “Our enemies could be anywhere.”
I looked around, and saw nothing but shadows. But they weren’t the Shadows that attacked my grandfather and me, just the darkness hidden from the electric lights. I pulled out the staff and held it up. Light sprung from the end and lit up the whole corridor. It was a small tunnel, hewn from solid rock. We were at the end of a rail line that led up the tunnel. It disappeared in a curve that started about twenty-five yards away. The corridor echoed with the clanging sound of a generator in the distance.
I turned to see if anything might have followed us and where there was once a ledge with a ladder leading down was now a solid wall of rock. I tested it with the staff, but all it did was make a small tap. “Mister Ali…”
He turned and nodded. He didn’t seem surprised. “Onward then. I will lead.”
I fell into step a few paces behind Mister Ali. I couldn’t see his face, but he was constantly murmuring and wringing his hands. Every once in a while he would stop and then wave a hand to the left or right. It all seemed very odd to me.
We had traveled around the first turn when Mister Ali stopped and turned to me. “There is magic here, so we must be careful.” He waved his arms around the tunnel. “I don’t believe it to be a threat. Still, we don’t know why the river chose this destination, so we should be careful. The exit is ahead, and I would like us to be prepared for anything.” He continued forward.
His eyes glinted in the light of the cane—he appeared to rarely blink as he continuously surveyed the tunnel around us. As we had moved further along our journey the jovial Mister Ali receded further and further back, as the warrior Mister Ali came to the fore.
We passed the generator that powered the lights, and approache
d the entrance to the mine. A bright light shone, and I realized that I had lost all sense of time on the river. At least now I knew it was daytime. We were near the entrance when Mister Ali held out his hand. I stopped as Mister Ali turned around and held a finger to his lips. He pointed to me and held up his palm.
Mister Ali emerged from the mine and slowly proceeded forward, stopping every so often to crouch down and squint into the distance. The mine faced flatlands that extended to the horizon. I couldn’t see a living thing.
As he proceeded forward, I tried to look for danger outside the mine. The landscape was completely alien to me, and I wondered if, like John Carter, we had perhaps been transported to Mars. The ground was arid, with large stones protruding from the dirt in random spots. The vegetation was sparse and looked half-dead. It was also hot. The temperature had risen so gradually as we traveled along the mine that I hadn’t noticed the scorching heat until it was overpowering.
The good news was that we were on a hill, which made sense since we were in a mine. This presented us with a very good view moving forward. It would be tough to surprise us, and—I noted happily, it was bright enough that I didn’t think I would have to worry about being surprised by Shadows.
There was a wide path cleared in the dirt that led downward. It avoided some of the steep drops that marked the hill but was still uneven. Mister Ali was on the path standing tall, staring at the plains ahead of us. I noticed him nod his head, and then he turned and gave me the all clear.
I had taken about five steps out of the cave when I saw a dark shape fly over my head toward Mister Ali. To my horror, Mister Ali fell in a heap. Two more shapes flew toward him, but they clattered against the ground nearby. Mister Ali slowly turned, and I heard him yell, “Tommy! Run back to the mine!” when I felt an excruciating pain in my right hip. My leg gave out, and I dropped the staff as I braced for the fall.