Wizards

by Booth, John

  "Meep, meep." [It itches. Jake doesn't care about me.]

  "Poor Retnor." Jenny put down the cups to rub Fluffy's head. "That Jake is such a nasty boy. Leaving his betrothed in Salice without a second thought. It's only me that cares about you. Would you like me to rub it better?"

  "Meep."

  "She isn't my betrothed. I never proposed. And you sent me back while you had a private chat with her and when I came back she was hiding under the sheets in her bed. What exactly did you do to her?"

  "That's a private matter between Esmeralda and me," Jenny said primly.

  "Well, so is me returning to Wales." I didn't say 'so there' but, by God, I thought it.

  "Jake, you can't humiliate Esmeralda like that. What I did was between the two of us and private. Everybody in four whole kingdoms will know if you stand her up at the wedding."

  "I thought both parties had to agree before they get married."

  "She's a princess and they do things differently with royalty. Look at Charles and Camilla."

  "So you want me to marry her?"

  "If you do, don't bother coming home. Retnor and I will manage on our own."

  "Meep, meep." [Jenny rubs my neck much better than you.]

  "Traitor," I retorted, without venom, at my grinning dragon. "Then what am I to do?"

  "You're a wizard. You must find a way to get yourself out of the marriage without shaming Esmeralda."

  "I could tell them I'm gay?"

  "It would certainly be believable if you wore your wizard clothes and cape."

  "I quite liked them."

  "It's getting more believable by the minute. But you can't do that, because I want to go to Salice again and no one is going to believe you're gay if you turn up with your girlfriend. You will have to think of something else."

  "Fine, I'll tell them that you have cannibal ancestry and you'll eat me if I marry Esmeralda."

  "The only way I'll ever eat you is in your dreams. I'm from a respectable family, unlike some people."

  "I give up."

  I walked away from Jenny and Fluffy in disgust, Fluffy's silent dragon laughter ringing in my head as I went. Hopping back to my bedroom I sat on my bed and tried to sort things out.

  After an hour or so of fruitless thought, I hopped back to the cave and took Jenny home. We stood awkwardly outside her parents' house in the cool of the evening. Since coming back from Salice, Jenny hadn't let me into her house or into her bed. It had been over two weeks and I was getting twitchy. I tried to kiss her goodnight but she pushed me away.

  "Not while you're betrothed to Esmeralda," she said determinedly. "And stay away from her without me with you, or it will be never again."

  "That's hardly fair."

  "You should have thought of that before you got yourself betrothed."

  "I wanted to come home. You made me stay."

  "You had to do the right thing, Jake. It's not my fault you screwed it up."

  I keep swearing to myself I'll stop arguing with women, but I still find myself doing it. They cheat and you can't win. If you say red is a nicer color than green and prove it, they claim you don't love them. I looked up an order of silent monks on the Internet the other day. I must go and give it a try one day.

  "Besides which, it looks like you have bigger problems."

  "Huh?"

  "Look up there." Jenny turned me around and pointed up into the sky.

  On an otherwise clear evening sky, words were forming. The sentence Jenny had seen first read. 'Beware Jake the Wizard.' Just forming below it were the words, 'I bring your doom!'

  "Impressive exclamation mark," I murmured.

  "I'm going inside," Jenny said quietly. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and ran into her house. I stared up at the skywriting and wondered what I was supposed to do. Since nothing sensible occurred to me, I settled for doing something silly.

  Turning away from the writing towards the pristine sky on the other side, I caused the following words to form in the sky.

  'Have your own personal message up here. Contact Jones Skywriting Ltd.'

  Given that every other surname in Wales is Jones, I was sure somebody would be grateful for the business.

  "Well, if it isn't Jake the Wizard," Malcolm Jones called out as I entered the small office of Griffiths Woodyard. "Wizard at skiving, I'd say."

  "I didn't know you were in the skywriting business, Malcolm. No, my mistake, it can't have been you as all the words were spelt correctly."

  Malcolm stood up as though he was going to fight, but Mr. Griffith entered the room before any trouble could start.

  "Yaki-da, boyo," Mr. Griffith cheerfully greeted me. It was typical of him to take the piss out of us Welsh, as he was an Englishman born and bred.

  "Mam said you called."

  "I've got a little bit of work for you and I know how you always need the money. Are you still seeing that posh student girl, Penny, or whatever her name is?"

  "Jenny Owen. And yes, Mr. Griffith, I still am."

  "Then you'll be in need of a few quid I expect. And there will be no need for us to involve the taxman, now will there?"

  "If you don't tell them, neither will I," I said grinning. It was much cheaper for both of us if we didn't get involved in employment forms, and the odd fifty pounds in cash in my trouser pocket never went amiss.

  Mr. Griffith put his arm on my shoulder and led me out of the office and into the yard. I could feel Malcolm's eyes boring into my back as we left.

  Griffith's Woodyard had received a large consignment of oak beams which needed to be properly stacked under cover before the Welsh climate ruined them. I say climate, but what I actually mean is torrential rain. We have a lot of it most of the year.

  Stacking was a skilled job with a fork-lift because the beams were easy to damage if you didn't know what you were doing. An old tarpaulin had been draped over the top of them, but they were stacked on the ground and still vulnerable to water running over the yard.

  It was the kind of work I enjoyed. I would be working outside and get to feel sun, rain and wind on my face. Nobody would be telling me what to do and I could do everything in my own time. On top of which, I got to see a pile of timber slowly move from an ugly stack on the ground to neatly stacked up on boards. Most importantly for me, I would get to bask in the thought of a job well done.

  Mr. Griffith was paying me for the job, not how long it took and so I chose to take my time, savoring the opportunity to do something useful for a change.

  I had just moved the last beam into place when I noticed a man standing watching me. That wasn't unusual as the yard had lots of customers and they often liked to stop and watch people working. However, this man wore a black cape that looked similar to the one made for me by Grimaldi.

  I parked the truck neatly between the yellow lines on the tarmac and got down from the cab. The man stood a few hundred feet away and he stayed there staring at me. I began to walk towards him, wondering who he was.

  "Fire!" The man shouted loudly and I turned around to see flames licking over the oak I had just moved.

  "Out!" I shouted in horror and the flames disappeared just as suddenly as they came. I turned back to talk to the man, but he was gone.

  Walking over to the beams, I saw soot blackened the sides of them, even though the fire had been going for only a few seconds.

  I waved my arm in front of the beams in a sweeping gesture and the soot vanished, leaving the beams cleaner and brighter than they'd been before the fire started.

  "Now what was that all about?" Mr. Griffith said from behind me.

  "What was what all about?"

  "I may be a lot older than you, Jake, but I haven't lost my sight or my sanity. Someone is after you. I was sure that skywriting was aimed at you. It was what made me think of you for this job."

  "I'm hardly Jake the Wizard," I said, laughing as heartily as I could manage under the circumstances. Jenny says I can't lie to save my life.

  "Yet you just
ordered a fire to go out and saved my business by doing it."

  "What fire?" I asked innocently. Mr. Griffith gave me an exasperated look. He felt in his back pocket and pulled out some folded banknotes.

  "Here's the money I promised you for the job, Jake. I understand why you don't want to admit to anything, but I've always known you have special gifts."

  That one threw me for a six. Mr. Griffith had always known I had special gifts? I must have looked puzzled because he chose to explain.

  "Everyone messes up sometimes when moving timber, Jake, even the best of us. It's part of the job and I allow for a certain amount of stock wastage. I've not lost as much as a length of doweling when you're working here. With you, timber falls occasionally, but it never does any damage. Remember that time when we got those waterlogged crates delivered? You said, 'give them a day to dry out' and I said 'they're ruined for sure'. You were right as you always are, and they dried out perfect."

  "It didn't stop you sacking me when money got tight."

  "I have to play fair, Jake. And what's young Malcolm going to do with his life if he doesn't have a job? He isn't good for much, not even selling something as simple as timber. You, on the other hand, can do anything you want to, I suspect."

  That stumped me. I've never thought of myself as anything special. Even hopping between universes is just something minor I can do that others can't, like being able to crack your knuckles. It's not like it's actually good for anything, like a plumbing qualification would be.

  Mr. Griffith handed over the money and I put it in my pocket. I wouldn't insult this man by counting it. In some ways, I saw Mr. Griffith almost as if he was another father.

  "You'd best be off home, boy. It seems you have made yourself an enemy and you'd better look to protect yourself."

  I nodded thoughtfully. Up until a few minutes before, I thought that if I ignored this wizard he would go away. It was becoming clear that had been a bit naïve on my part. I wondered what he wanted.

  The only wizard I've ever attacked was Wizard Plath and I didn't think he'd be in any hurry for a rematch. Whoever this guy was, he had managed to find me across all the universes. That implied he was either very powerful or very lucky. So why was he messing about with stupid skywriting and setting fires in wood yards? It didn't make any sense, and I needed to talk to Jenny. She's much cleverer than me and might be able to figure it out.

  It was a college day for Jenny and she would be in class. I waved cheerily to Mr. Griffith as I walked out of the wood yard. I hopped to the college grounds.

  "I haven't seen her today," a guy called Callum told me when I asked. "She hasn't been in the classes we share."

  Callum was a dyed blonde guy with a small tasteful tattoo on his neck and a much less tasteful nose ring. He was one of Jenny's posh friends and the easiest one of them to find. We weren't friends in any way, but on the other hand, he'd never insulted me to my face, which made him a rarity among Jenny's set.

  "Thanks. If you see her, will you ask her to contact me?"

  "I suppose, but why not just call her?"

  I hate it when people make sensible suggestions I haven't thought of. The truth is, I always feel more comfortable talking to people face to face than using a mobile and I hate texting. I guess I'm a throwback to an earlier age. It was one of the things I liked about Salice, no mobile phones. Not that I would give up the internet, mind you. Google is my local library and my filing cabinet.

  I found an empty wooden bench in the grounds and sat down to think. Part of me wanted to hop over to Jenny's house and knock on her door. However, given how I hadn't seen her parents for over two weeks, that might be just as awkward as calling her on the phone.

  I flipped up her name on the screen and put my thumb on the call button. All I had to do was press it and we could talk.

  The phone went off in my hand and I dropped it like a hot potato. I'd set the ring tone to sound like one of those nineteen fifties phones, which may also tell you something about me. Naturally, the phone was completely unscratched despite bouncing on the concrete path. Even when I drop something made of glass, it always bounces back unmarked. I usually take that aspect of my gift for granted but Mr. Griffith's chat earlier suddenly made it stand out. 'You were born with the luck of the Devil,' my mam says.

  I picked up the phone and saw that it was Jenny calling. Obviously great minds think alike. I was grinning as I clicked the accept button.

  "I was just going to phone you." I got in first.

  "Shut up Jake and listen." Jenny sounded terrified. "A man's kidnapped me. He hopped me out of college as I went through the gates. He wants to talk to you."

  "Put him on." There was a pain in my chest and I was having trouble breathing. I worked at trying to control my emotions. It would do Jenny no good at all if I freaked out on her.

  "How nice to finally talk," a strangely accented voice said calmly.

  "Let Jenny go. I'll do whatever you want."

  "Will you now? We shall see. You see, Jake, I want you dead. Are you willing to die for little Jenny here? She's pretty enough, but anybody who has walked the universes knows pretty girls are readily available whenever you want them."

  "Let Jenny go and I'll meet you wherever you want."

  "Oh, I don't want to meet you, Jake. You're much more powerful than me and even in an unfair fight I'm sure you would win. I do like these talking devices by the way. This conversation would have been so much more difficult if we had used letters or carrier pigeon."

  "What do you want?"

  "I've already told you. I want you dead. And the only one who can do that to you is you, Jake. Die for me and I'll return the girl unharmed. Live and I'll kill her and pick another one of your family, perhaps your mother or your father next. It might even be fun if we stretch it out for a while. Perhaps I could send your Jenny back to you a limb at a time. But in the end, I want you dangling from a tree with ravens picking out your eyes."

  "Why?" This was pure prevarication on my part. I didn't care why he wanted me dead, but I needed time to think of something resembling a plan.

  "Yes," the voice mused. "I think you should know why. It will make things so much worse for you. You may remember your encounter with Talder Plath. You should, because you turned his face into a smoking ruin that even magic can't put right. He's my older brother. My name's Haldane Plath. It's unusual for brothers to turn out to both be wizards, but we're an unusual family and we always take revenge on those who attack us."

  "I can see that it's going to be like when I go bowling," I told him. There was silence at the other end. If he had picked up English from someone who understood bowling he would get the reference, but he would have to shake those memories loose. I needed to get him angry to the point where he might make a mistake.

  "And why exactly is that?" Haldane asked, setting me up for the punch line.

  "I never get a strike with the first ball, but I always pick up the spare."

  The snarl at the other end told me he understood.

  "Should I kill her now?" he retorted, his voice taut with anger.

  "I'm prepared to die for Jenny. Kill her and I'll hunt you and your brother down, it's your choice."

  "Then do it now, before I lose my patience."

  "Free her first."

  "Not before I see your legs kick out in the dance of death," Haldane snarled in anger.

  "Where should I do it?"

  As I anticipated, he wasn't prepared for that question. I heard him whispering to Jenny. He wasn't aware how phones raise their sensitivity when voices get quieter. He asked Jenny exactly where they were and what was below them. Jenny told him that they were on the student accommodation tower overlooking the college grounds. As soon as I heard that, I hopped.

  Somewhere deep in my subconscious I must have had a plan I hadn't told my conscious mind about. I came out of the hop dropping towards the tower from above it, just as if I was Superman or something equally ridiculous.

  Jenny
stood on the tower block roof to my left while Haldane was to my right. He stood leaning over the wall looking down at the campus below, probably for me. I made my magic change the way I was flying, well falling, if I am truthful about it, and I smashed into him from behind, knocking both of us off the tower.

  Haldane screamed as we fell. I held onto him like grim death. I wasn't going to let him get away. When Haldane hopped away from Wales, I found myself going along with him.

  Normally, when I hop between worlds, it is instantaneous. I don't have time to see the gap between the universes. Wherever Haldane was taking us was far away because for the first time I could see the journey. There were millions of dots of light set among a grey mist. It was if the two of us were striding, or in Haldane's case staggering through the mist. One of the points of light grew as if it was rushing towards us like a freight train. Then we were inside the light and the two of us stumbled onto a reed carpeted floor.

  "Get off me," Haldane screamed and he managed to free himself with a lucky kick. As he scrambled out of some kind of wood framed translucent door I sent a magic command at him.

  'You cannot hop," I commanded. As I've mentioned before, I don't use my magic all that often and I'm never sure what I can do until I do it. Esmeralda had explained to me that using powerful magic tires a wizard. I knew I'd done something powerful because as soon as I issued the command I felt exhausted. It was minutes before I could get the energy to get off the floor.

  The room looked like someone in the West had made a parody of a Japanese house. The walls of the room were translucent and at first I thought they were made of paper, but when I touched one it felt more like plastic. The rest of the room was minimalist in the extreme. The bed was little more than a long rectangular box with a single sheet on it. The floor was tiled in a material similar to the walls and was partially covered in woven reed mats. However, the intricacy of the subtly colored patterns on the mats spoke of high culture. Japan meets IKEA was how I'd summarize it.

  A small writing table made of polished black wood stood in one corner with what looked like a section of log to sit on in front of it. It was surprisingly comfortable when I tried it. A box on the writing table contained a few loose sheets of paper and an old fashioned pen. There was incomprehensible writing on the paper. The writing looked like a score card with many straight lines crossing each other.