by Mark Hockley
THE LAW OF THE LAND
"I think I'd better go and look for them," called Ira from the back door. He made quite sure that Emily didn't see the worried frown that knotted his brow, deep concern and perhaps even dread evident on his worn features.
"Don't be gone too long," Emily answered, coming into the kitchen, "dinner will be ready in a little while."
"Don't you worry," Ira said, "I'll be back with the boys in a jiffy." But if his wife had seen his face she would have doubted he believed it.
Jack stood beneath the great oak. Climb me, it seemed to whisper to him. Climb up and see what you can see.
He grabbed hold of a low branch, his fingers tightening around it, the bark rough beneath his skin and began his ascent.
After looking everywhere that he could think of, Tom began to search deeper into the garden, taking unfamiliar paths, desperation driving him on. And then as he came out into a clearing, he experienced a profound sense of deja-vu that stopped him dead in his tracks.
Before him, a high hedge created an imposing boundary, running as far as he could see in both directions. This part of the garden was bereft of flowers, only shrubs and patches of dense ivy growing beside it and then gazing upward he saw a great oak rising against the sky.
He stopped and looked at it, memories suddenly filling his mind. A part of him was very afraid to go any nearer, but something stronger than his fear urged him forward. This place had haunted him through the years, despite his efforts to deny it. Now that he had rediscovered it he wanted answers.
But at what price, his mind asked him in a hollow whisper. At what price?
Ira called Tom's name, then Jack's, but there wasn't any answer.
He moved on, gaining speed as he went. The further he ventured into the garden, the more certain he became that something terrible was happening. And although Ira had perhaps expected it, now that it was upon him he was determined to resist it.
"Tom!" he yelled, "come back!"
He broke into a run. He knew where they would be.
Up the tree, on perhaps the sixth or seventh bough, perched Jack, his hands clutching a thick branch just above his head.
He was about to pull himself up a little bit further when a sound from below caught his attention.
"Jack!" cried Tom at the foot of the oak.
Jack looked down and could hardly believe how far it was to the ground. "T...Tom," he murmured, his voice unwilling to come out of his mouth.
"Are you all right?" shouted up his friend.
Gaining control of himself as best he could, Jack called back that he was fine.
"I'm coming up," signalled Tom and began to climb.
Jack peered down watching the small figure moving slowly towards him. He could fall, thought Jack and found that, oddly, the idea did not seem to worry him. In fact he wouldn't mind at all if Tom fell. After all, an internal voice sighed, there is only room for one up here.
Jack shook his head in dismay. What was he thinking? Tom mustn't fall. He gazed down once more, scanning the foliage and saw the blue of Tom's jersey working its way upward.
"Almost there," called Tom, not far below now.
Jack thought about offering his hand to pull his friend up but decided he had best not, the thoughts that still echoed in his mind alien and disturbing. His head ached, a dull throb at the centre of his brow.
Then Tom was beside him.
"We must stop meeting like this," Jack said with a weak smile.
"So this is where you were," chuckled Tom, although there was a tension in his voice that was unmistakable.
"Now this is what I call a tree!" Jack appraised, feeling a little more like his old self.
Tom nodded. "I've only ever been here once before and I wanted to climb up then," he said vaguely, recalling how he had felt the last time he had come upon this place.
"Well now that we’re up," challenged Jack, "are we just going to sit here or are we going up a bit higher?"
Tom gave his friend a determined look. "Higher it is."
Ira was lost.
Lost! In his own garden, the place he had known since he was a boy when his father had introduced him to its many secrets. Secrets that maybe Tom was uncovering at that very moment.
The garden was closing him out he realised, barring him from reaching the boys in time to warn them. The place had altered subtly, things not quite where they ought to be, paths somehow backtracking to lead him toward the house.
Ira stopped running and rested his hands on his knees, breathing hard. "Tom…Jack," he said quietly, "the land is shifting and the Wolf wants you both."
His heart was heavy, he was just an old man after all. His time was over. Now it was for the young ones to face the final test.
"Hold on a minute," said Jack on the branch above.
"What is it?" Tom asked, looking up but unable to see anything other than his friend's hunched body.
"I've found something!" Becoming excited, although he didn't really know why, Tom edged up toward the other boy. "It's a hole," called down Jack, his voice rising a little.
"What sort of hole?" Tom questioned, clambering up over a leafy branch, before attempting to hoist himself up beside Jack.
"A big one! I'm going in."
"Jack!" shouted Tom as he just caught a glimpse of his friend’s red jumper disappearing into the tree. It was as though the oak had just gobbled him up.
"I'm all right," came a muffled reply, "come on, there's plenty of room in here."
Pulling himself up onto the outstretched branch that Jack had just vacated, Tom peered into the murky darkness of a large hollow. "Where are you?" he hissed, not able to see anything but blackness.
"I'm in here! Come on, come inside."
For a moment Tom hesitated, and then with a last glance up at the seemingly endless array of branches above him, he went into the tree.
Tom couldn't believe how much space there was inside the hollow. Trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, he shuffled forward, crouching low and holding out his hands like a blind man.
"Not bad, eh Tom?" said Jack, somewhere to his left.
Dimly, Tom saw the outline of the other boy. The daylight from outside hardly illuminated the hole at all and when Tom glanced back toward the opening, all he saw was a vague shape in the gloom. "This is weird," he commented, finding a more comfortable position.
"Great hiding place though," Jack observed. "No one would ever find you in here.” He came closer to Tom until they could see each other more clearly. “This is just the sort of place I expected to find in your garden".
"How big do you think it is?" queried Tom, feeling about with his hands and coming into contact with nothing either above or beside him.
"Well," started Jack, "let's see if we can stand up." With that he straightened to his full height and Tom winced, waiting for the groan of pain that must surely come when Jack hit his head. A moment of silence followed and then. "It’s all right.”
Getting to his feet slowly, Tom was astonished to find that even when he raised his hands he could not find the roof of the hollow.
"How can it be so big?" he asked, turning full circle.
"Don’t know."
"Try moving about, let's find the sides of this place. I want to see how big it is," Tom said and began to inch forward, expecting to bump into the interior wall of the tree at any second.
Jack held out his hands in front of him and imagined he looked rather foolish as he lurched blindly ahead, before tripping over something and nearly falling flat on his face. "Ouch!" he cried out, rubbing his ankle before kneeling to feel for the offending object. "Tom," he called as his hands made contact with something.
"What is it?"
"I've found something else."
Tom tried to pin-point his friend and although he was no more than six feet away saw only a blurry figure squatting in the darkness. His eyes were finding it unusually difficult to adjust to their new surroundings.
"Come and look,
" urged Jack almost in a whisper.
"Look!" mocked Tom. "That's a good one. I can hardly see you!" As he drew closer he could just make out a dark shape held in Jack's hands. "Well, what is it?" he demanded impatiently.
"It's a box," came Jack's simple reply as he brushed dirt from the lid.
"What sort of box?"
Jack tutted and shook his head, a look of exasperation on his face. "How should I know," he rasped, "I can't see much more than you can!"
Edging nearer, Tom came close enough to examine the object. "I wonder how it got in here," he mused. As far as he could tell it was a small box, smooth to the touch, made from some kind of wood but with very little sign of any workmanship. "Does it feel as if there's anything inside?" he asked becoming curious, despite the objects bland appearance.
"No, it's as light as a feather," Jack responded, weighing it in his hands.
"Try the lid and see if it's locked."
Carefully Jack lifted the top of the box and the two boys peered inside, expecting nothing and yet hoping there would be something there and they saw what appeared to be a rolled up piece of yellowed paper neatly held by a white ribbon.
Ira came inside the house and sat down heavily.
"Couldn't you find them?" Emily asked, busying herself with preparing dinner.
The old man looked at her quickly and wondered what he should say. "No," he said guardedly, "I couldn't find them anywhere."
"Oh well," stated his wife, wiping her hands on her apron, "they'll turn up soon enough when their bellies start to grumble." She smiled, satisfied that this was true.
Ira got up and left the room without saying anything more. He wearily climbed the stairs and went into his and Emily's bedroom and sat down on the bed. What would his wife say when the boys still did not return long after dinner time had passed and what when it became dark? How could he explain to her that there wasn't anything that could be done? He closed his eyes and lay back on the cool pillow.
Should he go after them? He thought that he could do it. He knew the way.
But would he be permitted?
Perhaps he would be wrong to even try to interfere. He closed his eyes.
Why did the Wolf come?
It came to eat you, Tom. That's all its ever really wanted to do.
"Open it up," whispered Tom, bursting with anticipation.
Jack loosened the ribbon and carefully unrolled the scroll. In the dim light of the tree-hollow, the two friends vainly tried to make out what was written on the parchment.
"We'll have to take it outside," Jack concluded moving back toward the opening and as they came out once more into the daylight, both boys were struck by how bright it was.
"It shouldn't have been that dark in there," muttered Tom, concerned by this anomaly, but Jack was too busy looking over the scroll to take much notice.
"It’s a map," he said, studying the paper carefully.
They sat balanced precariously upon the branches which hung around the hollow and spread the parchment out before them.
"What's the writing at the bottom?" questioned Tom, leaning over Jack's shoulder, pointing at an ornate script that flowed across the page.
Jack read the words aloud.
"Seek and you will find,
Pandora's box
kept safe behind,
an arcane wall
of light and tone,
where sits a king,
upon his throne
of flesh and blood
and human bone.
To redeem the beast,
turn the key,
find the truth
and set it free.
So walk the road of bitter dream,
where nothing and no one
are what they seem."
Jack scratched his head. "What's all that supposed to mean?" he pondered.
Tom made no reply. It sounded just like one of Uncle Ira's poems and although he had never heard this particular verse before, he felt as if he knew it. It was as though he had heard a little here and a little there at different times throughout his life, snatches of memory as elusive as dreams. He didn't know what it meant, but it was important. Of that he was certain.
"Well," declared Jack, glancing at Tom, "any suggestions?" He handed the map over to his friend and Tom examined it at close quarters.
"The map isn't of anywhere I've ever seen before," he confessed after a moment.
"Must be somewhere foreign," Jack reasoned, beginning to lose interest.
Tom looked out over the garden, his gaze taking in many of the places he knew so well, the apple grove where he had spent summer days, the old pond where he had thrown stones at his reflection, watching the ripples with childish fascination. He could see the house too, over in the distance. It seemed so safe and welcoming. He knew his Aunt was in there now, preparing dinner, awaiting their return. In that instant, Tom longed to be back at the house.
Turning toward Jack, he looked past him and noticed for the first time that they were now level with the top of the hedge that ran all along the rear of the garden. I wonder what's on the other side, he thought, the lure of new discoveries tugging at him once more.
As if reading his mind, Jack turned to him and said, "that branch just above us reaches right over the hedge. Let's see if we can climb onto it and then we can find out what's on the other side."
“I’m not…” Tom began to say. But Jack was already climbing.
"What you waiting for!?" he shouted down and Tom quickly scrambled up after him, the map stuffed roughly inside his shirt. He had tossed the box back into the hollow, it could stay where they had found it for now. If his Uncle thought it worth having they could always climb back up and fetch it later.
On a particularly long, thick branch that hung right over the hedge and beyond, sat Jack. "This looks like a job for Tarzan!" he announced, swinging on the branch above.
"Be careful," Tom warned. If one of them fell from this height they might be killed or at best, break an arm or leg, but Jack being Jack, seemed to have little concern for his own safety.
Moving quickly, gripping the bark with fierce determination, Jack began to shimmy along the branch. Looking on anxiously, Tom wondered if this was such a good idea, but the other boy was almost over the hedge now and dropping out of sight, so with a last glance toward his house, Tom began to move cautiously after him.
"I'm going down," called Jack as he crawled further along the sinewy branch.
"Wait a minute Jack!" Tom cried but his friend's head had already disappeared. Faster now, but still making sure that he kept a firm grip on the tree, Tom gained the part of the branch that reached out over the hedge and looked down. The long bough wound its way crookedly almost to the ground and peering out he saw that the vicinity below was quite similar to his own garden, a wide area of vegetation, thick with trees.
But where was Jack?
Tom looked down to the ground and then all along the side of the tall hedge but Jack was nowhere to be seen. He must be a magician to disappear so fast he decided, but without any humour. He wished Jack could have just waited for him. Now things were getting out of hand.
Carefully
he lowered himself down along the rapidly thinning bough until it ended about seven or eight feet from the ground, then with a grunt and a tightening of his muscles, he dropped down, hitting the earth with a heavy thud.
Jack couldn't understand it.
He had jumped to the ground and landed well, but when he had looked up to help Tom down, the hedge had been gone. He knew it was ridiculous but that was what had happened. The whole, gigantic hedge had just disappeared, and so had the tree for that matter. He shook his head as if trying to clear it and stared stupidly at a thicket of trees where he knew the hedge should have been.
“I don’t get this,” he muttered, “I just don’t get this.”
He stood there like that for a while trying to come up with some kind of explanation, but the truth was it didn’t make any kind of sense.
Eventually he began to walk aimlessly toward a nearby stand of trees huddled close together as if in deep conversation and as he went he rubbed at his forehead, a dull headache beginning to throb against his temple. Was he still in the garden? What was going on!?
He was about to call out when something stirred in the grove ahead, causing him to gaze into the shadowy interior of the close-knit trees. At first he couldn't see anything at all, but then a figure became visible, a woman dressed all in white. She was picking flowers.
Edging closer and clearing his throat so as not to alarm the lady, Jack decided to ask if she knew the way back to Tom's house.
"Excuse me," he began, now only a few feet away from her.
The woman looked up at him and smiled. "Hello," she said.
Tom was becoming frantic. If Jack was lost he would need his Uncle's help to find him, but now that it was too late, he realised how foolish they had been. It had been all very well coming over the hedge but how was he going to find his way back? Somehow he would have to negotiate his way around it, but dense thickets of bushes and trees grew wild all along this side of the hedge, making it difficult to keep it within sight and already Tom had become disoriented, his sense of direction failing him.