A shaky voice came out of the darkness. “Peter? Is that you?"
"John!” He rushed heedlessly forward.
John sat on a slab exactly like the one on which Peter had been lying. Peter couldn't remember having seen it before. John climbed down unsteadily as Peter brought the rocklight closer.
"Where are we?"
"Somewhere in the Great Halls of Draining Light."
"How—?” John got no further; a clattering sound echoed all around them.
Peter couldn't tell the direction of the noise but it seemed to be getting closer. Then both boys gave a shaky laugh as three shapes emerged from the darkness, resolving themselves into the forms of Argent, Crystalline and Dreyfus. The mares were still saddled and bridled and looked as fresh as if they had just come from their stables.
For a brief minute the boys forgot their problems in the joy of greeting Dreyfus and their horses.
"I hope they know how to get out of here. I don't,” Peter said as he gave the rocklight to John while he climbed onto Argent's back.
"Last thing I remember is being greeted by some sort of angel,” John said as he handed the rocklight back and then swung himself into Crystalline's saddle. “She placed blazing fingertips against my eyes. I remember falling into sleep and being caught before I hit the ground, and that's all. Whatever happened after that's just a vague jumbled blur. I can't explain it to myself let alone to someone else."
Peter felt strangely glad his own memories were crystal-clear.
"What about your time in the Evil One's domain? Can you remember anything about that?"
Peter's highly tuned senses caught the shudder that went through John's body. “Not really. It seems more like a nightmare than reality. The only thing I remember clearly is his attempts to turn me against the Earthlight, and more particularly against Jamie. He went on and on about the perils of twinship. He—"
At that moment the horses, slowly moving in their chosen direction, stopped dead at the opening to a tunnel. However, the sound of hooves continued, coming from the tunnel opening. When Bart and Jamie, riding Obsidianus and Silvera, emerged into the light from the rock, Peter and John could hardly believe their eyes.
No one said anything. There seemed to be an unspoken command of silence. Argent moved to their head and, much to their surprise, led them into the tunnel through which Bart and Jamie had just emerged. However, to Bart and John it didn't seem to be the same tunnel, for they could see an archway of light in the distance.
Almost as though sensing they were nearly home, all four horses quickened their pace. They emerged into daylight and their riders squinted against the sudden brightness.
"Gosh! It's warm!” Peter unbuttoned his jacket and took it off. Only then did he realize that, instead of a white robe, he wore the clothes in which he had set out. He looked back at the tunnel through which they had just ridden, and saw nothing there but a steep hillside with a large patch of what could have been erosion denting its surface. At the look on Peter's face, the others paused in shedding their own jackets to look back at the hillside.
Peter's gaze wandered from the exposed clay to the area above the hills where he could see the tops of a line of poplars in a neighboring farm. A light breeze rustled their leaves. He pointed.
"Hey, look!” His voice was quiet, as though with suppressed excitement.
They looked from the poplars to the rest of the surrounding countryside.
"It looks like early summer,” Bart said slowly. “We've lost a whole six months. We could have a lot of explaining to do."
"I don't think so,” Peter said with absolute certainty. “I think this is the work of the Earthlight. We'll find all our explanations have been done for us."
When they arrived at the stables the stable hand who came to take the horses acted as though nothing was amiss. On arriving at the house, Bart turned to the boys before opening the back door.
"I hope you're right, Peter,” he said with a chuckle. “My Susan's a right sharp one. She'd soon see through any story I tried telling her."
Peter looked at a car standing in the yard. “Dad's here."
When they entered the kitchen they found not only Peter's stepfather but also the twins’ mother. Susan busily poured tea for them. “I told you they'd be back today,” she said by way of greeting. “Peter's Uncle Paul said they would."
As Sylvia Evans rushed forward to greet the twins, Mr. Edwards rose and walked towards Peter. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"We know all about it, lad,” he said gently. “Your uncle spoke to me and we decided to confide in Susan and Sylvia. Your uncle explained you'd be with him for six months and he promised you'd come home safely. As far as your college is concerned you've all been traveling overseas with your Uncle Paul."
Then pandemonium broke out as all three boys realized, in dismay, that they had missed half a year's education. Mr. Edwards calmed them.
"Your Uncle Paul assured us the loss of six months’ schooling would make no difference.” He chuckled. “The only thing that might need explanation is that you've not grown even a millimeter in six months."
When the laughter died Mrs. Evans addressed the twins again. “Peter's father and I have some news for you.” At the sudden shyness of her attitude Peter knew immediately what was coming. She walked over to Simon Edwards, who smiled broadly and placed his arm around her shoulders.
"Sylvia and I are getting married in the new year,” he said simply.
* * * *
WHEN PETER climbed into bed in the room allotted to him at the Browns’ farm that night it wasn't yet dark. Even though still full of the excitement of the day's happenings—and looking forward to the celebration of his and the twins’ birthday the following day—he felt sure he would sleep because he was far too tired to even try staying awake. Hardly had he settled down, however, than a soft knock came on the door. As he remembered other times this had happened, Peter's heart leapt with expectation and he raised himself quickly on one elbow. But it was Bart's head that peered round the door at him.
"Oh, it's only you."
Bart chuckled. “That's a fine way to greet your host and friend.” He entered the room and softly shut the door. “Jamie has been dying to give you this message all afternoon but I persuaded him to let me do it.” Bart sat himself in the chair by the bed. “I'm not leaving this room until you've learned it by heart.” Then Bart recited in the strange sing-song fashion that reminded Peter strongly of Merlin when quoting from the prophecies:
"In the darkening forest flaming bright
Only the One Tree can put things right.
Though all the trees may look the same,
when the One is called upon by name,
At the moment of time so ordained
Evil shall fall when rights are claimed."
Peter repeated the verse after Bart until he could quote it faultlessly without any prompting. As soon as he was satisfied Peter wasn't likely to forget it, Bart rose. He traced three circles in the air with his forefinger. “Good night, Chosen One. Dream well."
"I think I'd rather not dream at all, thanks.” Peter recalled the dream that had haunted him in May and June, the beginning of the winter that he missed: a winter full of freak storms that saw most of the country south of Auckland in grim adversity, especially the South Island farms, where even Thaddeus Carter suffered losses in two unusually bad blizzards.
Peter's mind came back to the present as Bart turned to leave. He looked back quickly at Peter as though about to say something, then, apparently changing his mind, quietly left the room. The door clicked to softly behind him, leaving Peter wondering what the look—almost of pity—meant.
He went to sleep with the words of the final prophecy repeating themselves in his mind. For a while he dreamed strange dreams, jumbled and irrational. In the final and most vivid he walked through a forest. But it was like no forest he had ever seen. Always there seemed to be a glow. The trees all burned around him with silent, u
nconsuming fire. Somewhere, one of the trees sang to him in a high piping voice. Its song was the only sound to be heard. He knew he had to find the tree. It was the only tree in the forest that would help him find his way. All the others were evil, their sole purpose being to destroy him. He stumbled through the forest, his breath rasping through his throat, his lungs heaving. Everywhere things reached out to stop him: sprawling vines uncoiled like snakes in the undergrowth to trip him up by winding themselves around his legs; branches swung like giant limbs in front of him to strike him down or grab at him with their strong, spiky fingers.
The source of the high singing seemed to shift, forcing him to continually change direction. He did this several times until the singing started to come from behind him, then in front of him and finally, in swift succession, from each side. As he stood helplessly jerking his head from one direction to another, it began to come from all around. And it changed from being the song of the One Tree to something evil. The trees started crowding around him—pushing and shunting—like raving sheepdogs herding an unwilling sheep. Prodded from all directions, Peter had no choice but to go where they propelled him.
Suddenly, there it was in front of him—what the trees had been driving him towards: a tree, towering, majestic, perfect in its conical formation, and corrupt to the core. Peter could feel the evil within it. It stood alone on a hill. Even as Peter looked up at it, the light pulsing from it changed to the blue fire of the Evil One. Slowly the appearance of the tree dissolved until only an area of blue shapelessness remained. Then the blue started shrinking in on itself. Gradually, shifting and reshaping, it resolved itself into another shape of a darker blue, until a human form stood there looking down at Peter with unseen eyes. It was the Lord in Blue. A harsh chuckle came from him.
"What do you think of my version of the One Tree, Chosen One? This is how it will be in the end. This is what I will make of the One Tree and all the trees surrounding it. Before I'm finished with you I will break your mind. And by my power you shall know Who I am."
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but only a croak came out. The Lord in Blue chuckled a second time. Peter cleared his throat and tried again. This time his voice emerged loud and clear.
"I've worked out you're somehow part of the Evil One, but I don't know how he can be two people at the same time."
Peter thought he saw a flash of white teeth from the black depths of the Lord's hood.
"Three if you count Sujad Cariotis. No, that's not strictly true because he can't appear as himself and Sujad Cariotis at the same time. But you've seen him and myself together. Call it twinship if you like. We're like two sides of a double-headed coin, only in our case you can see both sides at once."
"What have you brought me here for?” Peter asked tersely, almost impatiently.
He had the satisfaction of seeing the Lord in Blue bridle. He thought he caught a glitter from the unseen eyes within the hood. Then the Lord jerked his head down sharply in what must have been a signal—for twining vines grabbed Peter from all sides. They wound themselves around both legs, tripping him up. As he thrashed out at them with his fists, they whipped at his hands, stinging mercilessly. Involuntarily he yelped with the pain. Then they coiled around his arms, dragging his flailing fists downwards. Lastly he felt them entwine themselves around his chest, almost cutting off his breathing. In a matter of moments they held him fast. Some power that he could feel but not see hauled him back onto his feet again.
The Lord in Blue stood on the hill and laughed. His laugh rang out over the forest. It gained in volume as hill after hill bounced it back. And the Lord's laughter altered the very essence of the trees around Peter; they shrank and changed shape until they were soldiers, armed and grim, while the vines twining themselves around Peter became chains, light but strong.
From his hilltop, where he had swelled to gigantic proportions, the Lord in Blue spoke his command to his army. “Bring him to Our Domain. We shall keep him there until those of the Earthlight have found the One Tree for us. With the First Chosen in Our keeping the One Tree cannot be named. And once the moment ordained for the naming of the One Tree passes, it will remain forever unnamed. I will then claim its powers for myself.” The Lord in Blue turned as though to depart and suddenly swung back again. His cloak swirled madly around him. “Unchain him,” he snapped. “You'll only have to carry him otherwise. I'm sure you've no desire to touch him."
As he spoke, the Lord in Blue raised his arms in a summoning gesture. The evil black cloud always attending a Lord of Corruption swirled around him. It swiftly blotted him from Peter's sight.
At the Lord's command, one of the soldiers stepped forward. He flicked his wrist at Peter and the chains fell clanking to the forest floor. The soldier looked at Peter with hatred blazing in his black eyes. Peter stared back, and recognized Jadus Castirio.
"You made a bad bargain, Jadus,” he said quietly. “The witch robbed you of both body and soul for her own purpose and then abandoned you."
Jadus spat at him. “Squirt! Pukling! What would you know about it?” he hissed, prodding Peter forward with the barrel of his rifle, which instantly turned into a piece of wood from one of the trees. “Whatever's going to happen to me is nothing to what's going to happen to you."
"Bring him here!” the Lord in Blue rasped impatiently from his black cloud.
Jadus poked Peter in the ribs again. He appeared totally oblivious to the fact that his weapon was only a dead branch. Another, shorter soldier followed suit with a vicious jab. Peter nimbly dodged it and the weapon barely touched him. He turned to glance at the soldier's face, and found himself staring into the hate-filled eyes of Justicio Sadra, the boy he had known as Justin. He watched in fascination as Justin's rifle also turned into a dead branch.
Jadus prodded him again, more sharply. “Move!"
Peter stumbled towards the hilltop where the Lord in Blue impatiently awaited him.
"Idiots!” the Blue Lord thundered. “Can't you see what he's doing? Your weapons are useless against such as he. Put them down and use your powers instead."
Jadus obediently dropped the stick. It struck Peter's foot and seemed to bounce up to him. Peter found his fingers closing over it automatically. As Jadus and Justin both pointed a finger at him, he swiftly brought the branch up in front of his face. Blue lightning sizzled around him. He used the branch to send some of the fire back to the two Lords of Corruption; the rest seemed to bounce harmlessly off him. The fire that he sent back had no effect on the two Lords.
On his hilltop, the Lord in Blue screamed his rage and frustration. He stretched out his arms towards Peter. Peter knew he couldn't withstand the Blue Lord's flames for too long. Hastily he threw a shield around himself and raised his arms in the air. Next moment he was viewing the scene from above, and the trees were back. The forest canopy hid the Blue Lord's army from Peter, but he saw and heard enough to make him realize the blue fire found victims amongst the Enemy's own soldiers.
The Blue Lord turned his face upwards and raised his arms towards Peter. And the forest canopy rushed towards Peter again. He heard the crash of breaking branches, smelled the strong aroma of pine, as he fell into a mass of greenery.
Chapter 13
The Christmas Tree
PETER BLINKED at the tips of a pine branch that tickled his face and stopped him seeing beyond it. How come he wasn't still falling? How come he seemed to be cradled by the canopy, as though the trees themselves were trying to keep him from the clutches of the Blue Lord? Then he tried sitting up and was abruptly aware it wasn't branches cushioning him but the mattress of the bed in which he fell asleep. The summer-weight duvet was flung back, partly hanging over one side. In the faint moonlight filtering into the room he surveyed the mess around him. Small branches of pine littered both sheet and duvet and there were pine needles all over the place. He was still clutching the dead branch that had been Jadus's rifle.
He looked at the bedside clock. It was three hours since he came to bed.
He climbed out of bed. He picked up the larger pieces of pine and placed them on the bedside table. Then he gathered up all the needles, dumped them on his spread-out t-shirt and shook them out the window. That left the pine branches. The best place for them, he reasoned, would seem to be with the firewood. That, however, was kept in a shed outside. With the grim evidence his dream hadn't been just a dream, Peter felt reluctant to go outside. He'd take them to the shed in the morning.
Five minutes later he was drifting back to sleep...
* * * *
WHAT ON earth's happened to the grass? Peter asked himself as he wandered across the lawn to the shed where Bart kept his firewood. He wasn't even halfway towards the shed when the crunching of his own footsteps brought him to a halt. He looked down. Snow? It can't be. It doesn't snow in Auckland. He looked at the clouds of steam coming from his mouth. It was certainly cold enough. Then he glanced around, and panic instantly set in.
Wherever he was, it was certainly not on Bart's farm. A line of footprints—his own—stretched behind him into the distance. The snow-covered ground seemed to stretch for miles. There was nobody else around. He scanned the rise and fall of the land looking for smoke from a chimney. All he could see were hedges and bare trees, their branches weighted with snow; the sky was leaden and looked as though it would discharge more snow at any minute.
A long drawn-out howl sent his heart thumping. Wolves! He must be somewhere in England back in the Dark Ages! Then he realized it was only a dog. And where there was a dog, there would be at least one human. The howl sounded again and he set off in the general direction from which it came.
He seemed to trudge on for hours but didn't hear the dog again. Only then did he admit, with dismay, that he was totally lost. He shivered uncontrollably. His alarm turned to panic as he saw it was starting to snow again.
If I don't find what I'm here for immediately I'll freeze to death, Chosen One or not.
The Third Age of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book Three] Page 14