Rainbow's End - Wizard

by Mitchell, Corrie

  ‘Yes,’ he answered at last. ‘Yes, she does.’

  Edith’s next question brought him back to the present. ‘Where is she Thomas?’ the woman asked. ‘Where is my grandchild?’ Begging.

  She received a long, searching look from those disconcerting eyes, and then Thomas asked, ‘Do you believe in fairies, Mrs. Carter?’

  She frowned. ‘No. No, of course not.’ Shaking her head. Her answer impatient, almost brusque - perceiving the boy’s question as an attempt at avoiding her own.

  He looked to the busily scratching fowl and thought carefully about his next words.

  ‘Thomas?’ Waiting.

  He turned his gaze back to her and said, ‘Maggie’s at Rainbow’s End, Mrs. Carter. It is a place of fairies and dwarves and… and oh, so much more. But mostly, it is a place of children - for children. A place of love…’ And then Thomas told an open-mouthed Edith Carter about Rainbow’s End: the place he now called home.

  *

  Scant minutes later she had jumped to her feet and was leaning forward from the waist up, her arms held stiffly at her sides, her hands clenched into tight fists. Her face was flushed and Edith Carter’s purple-blue eyes flashed.

  ‘Who do you think you are Thomas Ross, and what do you take me for?’ Her voice trembled with indignant anger. ‘A child? Fairies and dwarves and water-nymphs, and, and…’ her voice trailed off. Then, louder and decisive - ‘I’m calling the police.’ Without giving the open-mouthed boy a chance to respond, she turned on her heels and strode off towards the house, her shoes stirring up small clouds of grass.

  Thomas got up slowly and stared after her, failure making his shoulders slump, a hollow feeling beneath his breastbone where earlier Ariana had placed her hand. ‘Follow your heart, Thomas - it is rarely wrong.’

  ‘Mrs. Carter,’ he called after Edith Carter’s retreating back, then louder, ‘Mrs. Carter!’

  The woman halted, unwillingly, and looked over her shoulder. ‘What?’ she asked. Grimly.

  ‘If you go inside that house, Mrs. Carter, I will leave. And it might take a lot longer before you see Maggie again.’

  ‘The police will stop you before you can get very far,’ retorted the woman.

  ‘No, they won’t, Mrs. Carter.’ The absolute certainty in his voice made Edith Carter turn back to Thomas.

  ‘You can’t just disappear,’ she said, but remembering the way he had appeared on her doorstep had her glance at the forest again - unsure of herself.

  ‘No,’ Thomas agreed with her. ‘I can’t disappear. But I can fly.’ He was serious this time, and Edith, against common sense and the impossibility of his claim, suddenly believed the boy. He walked towards her and she noticed the heavy gold chain laced through his fingers for the first time; the crystal dangling from its end.

  And then they were a mere metre apart once more, and Edith Carter said, ‘Please, Thomas.’ Her eyes pleaded, and he saw the worry; the longing, in them. Follow your heart, Thomas. He made up his mind.

  ‘You will need to lock your house,’ he said. ‘And can you perhaps put on some other clothes? Denim or corduroy-pants… something like that?’

  ‘Why?’ Edith’s eyes narrowed, her chin lifted.

  ‘Because you are going to get wet.’ Thomas smiled in spite of the tense situation. ‘Soaked, really.’ His eyes dropped to her wrist and her obviously expensive white gold, mother of pearl inlaid timepiece. ‘And take off your watch, please. Unless you never want it to work again.’ Her blue eyes searched his green ones for a long few seconds, and found them steady, without guile. She turned away and hurried towards the house’s back door again.

  ‘Oh, and Mrs. Carter?’ Edith stopped once more, and without looking back, waited. Thomas followed her to the bottom of the steps again. ‘If you’re not out here in ten minutes,’ he said, ‘I will presume that you did call the police: and then I will leave. By myself. Alone.’ Without a word, a small nod only, Edith Carter went into her house.

  *

  ‘We should have you back here today,’ Thomas said. ‘It depends on the time-frames, the time-curves. But if not, is there someone who would look after your dogs… the other animals?’

  Edith had come out of the house with minutes to spare. A large leather handbag hung from one shoulder on a thick strap, and after locking the kitchen door behind her, she dropped the big bunch of house keys through its gaping maw. She was dressed in olive-green corduroys and a man’s woollen check shirt; walking shoes and a wide-brimmed hat that reminded Thomas of Grammy’s. No watch.

  ‘I have a live-in housekeeper,’ she said. ‘Saturdays are her day off. She’s gone shopping.’ She frowned, mystified. ‘What do you mean by “Time-frames… and time-curves”?’

  Thomas smiled. ‘I will explain it to you later,’ he said. They had slowly strolled to the middle of the big, bare, back lawn; the chicken had taken her brood elsewhere, as if knowing she should get out of the way.

  Maggie’s grandmother nodded at the boy and said: ‘Well then, lead the way.’

  Another smile from Thomas, and, ‘The way is right here,’ he said, whirling the crystal above his head. Large coloured circles suddenly surrounded them, and Edith Carter gaped.

  Then a clap of thunder displaced the air; it hurt their ears, and they were sucked into space.

  *****

  Another cricket game was in progress on the bank of the Rainbow Pool; the lush green grass had transformed itself into a perfect bowlers pitch. Only for the day.

  All of the boys and a few of the older girls had made up two teams; most of the other girls drifted around the pool on large inner tubes, and a few more sunbathed on towels thrown open on the opposite bank, watching the game.

  Two of them, Heather and her friend Julie, had liberated Maggie from Frieda, and were playing at the top end of the pool; taking turns to toss a large beach ball at where the water from the stepped waterfall splashed into the pool, and keeping count of who it washed back to the most. The water in this part of the pool was especially shallow - reaching only to the older girl’s knees and Maggie’s waist; clear enough to see the sand and pebbles at their feet.

  Maggie wore a black one-piece bathing suit with pink polka dots and a pink baseball cap, both thought smaller to fit her tiny frame; and Frieda could hear her voice excitedly piping above the happy ones of the other children, every time the ball drifted her way. The shrill little shouts put a sad-happy smile on her face and a wistful look in her hazel eyes. She was sitting on a big round rock, which jutted over the water in one corner of the pool; where it met with the massive wall of the cliff. Watching the children play, but mostly letting her mind roam…

  In the last thirty days or so, she had come to love the little girl as much as any mother could - without reservation - although she knew she shouldn’t have. And now she had to face facts, no matter how much they hurt. Maggie would have to leave. Not today or tomorrow, Frieda knew, but in twenty days…less than thirty certainly. She had been to visit Ariana; at the goddess’ request and only the second time in more than twenty cycles, or forty years. They had caught up on the intervening years (although, obviously, Ariana already knew all that had happened during them), and then they had come to Maggie. Silently, and looking the other way, knowing of the pain to come, Ariana had handed Frieda the newspaper clipping, folded and dry and taken from a small pocket of her white summers frock. She’d given Frieda time to read it, and read it again, and then had told the weeping woman that the little girl would have to go back. But added, as she held Frieda, that she was sending Thomas to Scotland in a day or two, to see Maggie’s grandmother, to see if Maggie couldn’t stay longer, another month or so…

  A girl of about seven, floating on a half deflated tube and leisurely kicking her way around the wide base of the Rainbow with a floppy pair of green rubber flippers, suddenly gave a frightened squeal and everybody: floaters, cricketers, Frieda, and the sunbathers, turned to see her furiously pedal away. Thousands of bits and pieces of yellow grass were
suddenly floating on the water’s surface, and from the violet pillar next to which she had been peacefully drifting seconds ago, two soaked figures emerged: Thomas in front, and behind him - holding on to his windbreaker’s sleeve, an older woman. She looked bedraggled and her clothes clung wetly, and she was staggering and wore the stunned look of one who had just woken up in a fairyland she hadn’t believed in just minutes ago. (Which of course, she hadn’t).

  She stopped and Thomas with her, removed her sodden floppy hat, and pushed her fingers through her short wet hair. Turned in a slow circle, dazed and mouth open, and took in the surrounding mountains; the cliff and the waterfall and then the pool; and the river, running away and splitting into the lush green and golden meadows. Clumps of shady trees and flowers everywhere. A few hundred metres away, on the far side of the river, a forest; the trees at its perimeter few and far apart, but growing closer and thicker the further one looked; guarding further access to the river a kilometre or so away, and eventually filling the whole of the lower horizon. Still further, serving as a backdrop, the grey, blue and green tips of more mountains, higher, and etched against the brilliant-blue sky.

  There were children everywhere: some were floating or standing in the pool, others sunbathing on its far bank. The rest were playing what appeared to be a game of cricket - a boy and a girl with bats stood frozen in front of their wickets, the bowler and fielders in strategic positions. All were motionless, all gaping at Edith, some with large disbelieving eyes. Three girls who had been playing in the waterfall’s wash, now stood like statues.

  In one corner, on a large round rock that protruded from the cliff wall; wearing a yellow sundress, with knees drawn up to her chin, as still as if she were part of the rock itself, sat a young woman. As absurd as it might seem - from a distance of almost thirty metres away - Edith felt her terrible sadness, and strangely, knew it had something to do with herself.

  And then all else was forgotten: when the smallest of the three girls below the waterfall screamed “Granny Edie!” and started struggling forward against the water reaching to her small waist, leaving the pink cap floating behind, and exposing her own burst of copper-red curls. The still dazed look on Edith’s face, was replaced by one of the pure joy, and in seconds, she had the little thing in her arms, squeezing hard while small arms and legs wrapped frog-like around her neck and waist.

  Then, crying tears of joy and crooning into Maggie’s ear, and not relaxing her grip for a second, she began wading towards the pool’s bank where a huge bearded man waited, surrounded by a horde of suddenly-come-to-life, and all-jabbering-together children. His mouth hung open and he was staring at the soaked middle-aged woman with bemused, very clear grey eyes. He extended an arm as thick as a young log and pulled her onto dry ground, where, in her usual forthright manner, Edith Carter said, ‘You’re catching flies, sir.’

  He abruptly shut his mouth, and then, in a beautiful deep voice, assured her, ‘There are no flies at Rainbow’s End, ma’am.’

  26

  The castle was empty except for Bryan and Kraylle. They were in the demi-god’s throne-chamber; Kraylle had come down from his throne, and from one dark corner of the room produced two chairs, one normal and the other oversized. They were setting up a chess game.

  ‘They can go to the Earth as often as they want,’ said Kraylle of his Night Walkers. ‘It is a relief sometimes, not to have any of them skulking around the castle.’ He grinned. ‘And they sometimes bring back the most delightful surprises.’ His eyes went soft for only a second. ‘Like Eva,’ he said.

  ‘I want to go with them tomorrow,’ said Bryan, and the huge figure gave a negligent shrug and a “who cares” grunt.

  *

  Later… ‘Most people on the Earth don’t believe in life on other planets,’ said Bryan.

  Without lifting his eyes, Kraylle said: ‘There are hundreds of thousands of planets across the universe with life on them. Most just lower life forms: insects, fish, reptiles… Some mere amoeba - single cell organisms. But still - very many with mammals: thousands in fact. And thousands more with intelligent life. Human life.’

  Bryan listened with rapt fascination. ‘What do they look like?’ he asked.

  The demi-god frowned, perplexed. ‘The humans?’ he asked. When Bryan nodded, he said, ‘Like you, Bryan. They look like you.’ And then he grinned, realization dawning in his obsidian eyes. ‘You thought…’ he guffawed. ‘You thought they’re little green men?’ His voice mocked and he laughed aloud when Bryan gave another, this time, embarrassed nod. ‘Eva told me about them… About ET and the nonsensical comic strips they show children on a thing you call television. Primitive,’ he added thoughtfully, then - ‘I thought she was joking.’

  He turned serious again. ‘People all over the universe look the same, Bryan Stone - admittedly with some variations: They might be a lot taller or shorter, with a stronger or weaker bone structure, due to lesser or increased gravity; very fat or thin, depending on their diet; paler or darker skins - their sunlight might be a lot stronger, or weaker, than the Earth’s. Also - some planets have very long or very short days and nights.’ He laughed again, disdainfully, without mirth. ‘But no green or yellow, or little blue men,’ he said.

  He was quiet for a while - introspective. ‘And then of course,’ he said, ‘there are the gods and the demi-gods. And their children…’

  *

  Later… ‘I have a sister,’ Kraylle said and took a rook with a bishop. ‘She lives... she exists, at a place called Rainbow’s End.’ He sat back and inspected the game.

  The chessboard was green and white marble and the pieces the same: three inches tall, their small features almost life-like; Kings and Queens with crowns and sceptres; Bishops with bow and arrow; the Knights rearing horses; Rooks squat with ball and chain; the Pawns an inch shorter, carrying spears.

  Bryan gaped at him, surprise having halted his hand in mid-air.

  ‘You... have a sister?’ he repeated, stupidly, and Kraylle nodded, matter of fact. ‘And is she also a god?’ asked the boy. With half of his concentration gone, he put his opponent in check with his queen.

  ‘Demi-god,’ Kraylle corrected, removing the threat with the same bishop. ‘Or Demi-goddess. We are the only two in this galaxy.’ His black eyes lifted to Bryan’s. ‘It is quite small you know, this galaxy; when compared to others.’

  Bryan frowned. ‘Are there many…?’ he asked. ‘Many other galaxies, I mean?’

  ‘Millions,’ said Kraylle. ‘Maybe billions. The universe is immense; immeasurable. I spent more than six-hundred of your years travelling through it at close to the speed of light, and I have traversed only the merest fraction.’ He answered Bryan’s next question before the boy could ask it.

  ‘For every hundred years you age, Bryan Stone, I age one... more or less. In Universal time, I am not yet twenty. In your Earth time, around two thousand years.’ His black gaze brooded and his lips compressed in a thin line. ‘I have spent almost fourteen-hundred of them here, on Desolation.’

  ‘But why aren’t you together?’ asked Bryan. ‘You and your sister?’

  The hulking demi-god’s voice lowered to a soft, cruel hiss; the hate in his eyes like burning coals. ‘I was not called,’ he spat, and his tone dissuaded any further probing in that direction.

  Bryan knew when to leave well enough alone, and they played in silence for a while, before he ventured another question. ‘This place you speak of? This… Rainbow’s End?’ Kraylle gave a slight nod and Bryan went on - ‘Is it nicer… is it better than here?’

  The demi-god pondered his young general’s question for a few seconds, eyes on the chessboard. When at last he looked up, his eyes made the boy shiver. Implacably cold and cruel; his laugh soft and terrible. He moved his queen forward. ‘Check-mate,’ he said, then, in a matter of fact voice, ‘It is better, Bryan. Much, much better.’ His eyebrows lifted and his bloodless lips turned up at the corners. ‘There is so much to destroy,’ he said.

 
The pieces on the board rearranged themselves.

  *

  Later… ‘Boring,’ said Kraylle a few games on. ‘This game is boring,’ He leaned back in his huge chair. ‘Back on Roussous 3, the Ri-Ti-Ri taught the children of the gods and demi-gods a game called Zan-Bac. The principle is the same as this,’ he waved at the chessboard, ‘but it is played on a much larger scale. Novices start with a hundred and twenty-eight pieces; advanced or expert players use up to five hundred and twelve. Two thousand and forty-eight squares… A game can take a very long time... Weeks…’

  ‘What about sleep?’ asked Bryan, agog.

  ‘Gods don’t need sleep,’ said Kraylle disdainfully.

  ‘Will you teach me?’ Bryan asked.

  Kraylle snorted. ‘No,’ he said, simply. Then, after a minute, taking some small pity on the boy’s downcast look, explained. ‘I have tried, Bryan. I have tried teaching some boys. Some of them, and I cast no asperity on your intelligence; some of them had intelligence levels to match those of great mathematicians or physicists on your planet. A few became very famous,’ he interjected, then laughed softly, as if at a private joke. ‘Or rather, infamous,’ he said, then continued, ‘Some of them, not all, mastered the basic principles of the game, but none could grasp its finer points, its depths, its intricacies…’