Magic Parcel

by Frank English

  No sooner did he seem to have started towards the forest than it was upon him, its outer eves above his head, cutting out the rays of the sun. This afforded no protection, however, but seemed to change the heat from intense and direct to diffuse overall humidity, making his head swim and him feel drowsy.

  “Must ... have ... sit ... down,” he muttered to himself, licking his lips to try to stop them fusing together. He finally lost control of his will as the heaviness took over the driving forces of his mind. The forest seemed to be murmuring to him of cool shady copses with inviting, chuckling and trickling streams, offering rest and refreshment to his weary travel-stained limbs. On and on he stumbled, the forest ever around him like some great soothing blanket, taking him further from his path.

  He stopped finally, the great black abyss not one pace away; one more step and he would experience the headlong fall to oblivion. The Great Gaping Ghyll had opened up before his unsteady steps, and his legs were about to move again, taking him forward to an uncertain end.

  Chapter Four

  Tarna’s settlement, astride the River Lin at its shallows, was a wonderful if rather strange sight. The river was wide but reasonably shallow at this point and flowed around a large flat island upon which was set, amid a great profusion of trees and flowering shrubs, a mighty thatch-covered hut. Circular and low, it must have been fifty paces or more in diameter, with small round windows set at intervals in its smooth, matt-grey walls. Although large, from a distance the building merged in with the surroundings and became totally lost to view. The other buildings were of like construction but much smaller, and although they were many, they fitted into their undulating surroundings like so many of the hillocks around them. Apart from that, on the island there was very little vegetation, or ordered cultivation of the land, leaving the observer wondering how they obtained their food, roofing, and kindling for fire.

  As they entered the outer circle of huts, Tommy experienced a strange feeling; one he couldn’t readily describe or account for. It was similar to that tingling sensation he had always felt when approaching Uncle Reuben’s, but somehow this time it was different. He had never been to this settlement before, even though he had visited Omni many times, or at least he didn’t think he had.

  Although, from the size of the settlement, there must have been many people living there, it seemed almost deserted. There was an oddly quiet and still feel to the place.

  “Tarna,” Tommy said to his companion, who was a few paces in front, “why, if your enemies are about, are there no sentries or guards, or even people about? No walls, fences or gates to keep them out?”

  Tarna dropped back level with him, and tried to explain in that slow, deliberate way of his.

  “The Senti do not come here,” he said. “We do not need guards, for we have our Guardian who watches over us, and whose power is so strong in the surrounding area that no enemy, save Seth himself, could ever enter our stronghold. I will take you across now to be presented. Come with me.”

  “But how do we get across without ..?” Tommy started.

  “getting wet?” Tarna finished. “Come, I will show you.”

  Leaving Tommy with mouth agape, Tarna leaped onto the surface of the rapids and lightly and swiftly sped across to the other side. Turning with a smile on his face, he beckoned to Tommy to join him, whose face conveyed the horror he felt at having to do this duck’s dance. Tarna returned to Tommy’s aid but more slowly, pointing to his feet as he did so. It wasn’t until the Omnian almost reached his starting point that Tommy noticed a long row of broad, flat stones set in the riverbed with their uniformly wide tops just below the level of the river surface. Nonetheless, he still didn’t feel over-safe stepping out into the unknown even with Tarna directly before him, and so his progress could only have been described as deliberate. Never before had the feel of firm soil under his feet been as welcome as when he finally came to earth not ten paces from the great hut.

  His relief soon changed to wonder and amazement as the companions approached the eastern entrance, for not only was the wall smooth, it was hard as rock, and cold; a coldness which all but froze the flesh to the bone. They passed through the doorway and an eerie blackness fell about them, blocking out both sight and sound. Looking back the few paces he had come, Tommy could see no exit even though no door had shut.

  “Do not be afraid,” Tarna reassured. “Nought but evil needs have fear in here. Now, please close your eyes and do not re-open until I tell you.”

  At this command, there was no question of disobedience; the eyes simply closed without will or consent of the owner. They were opened just as abruptly soon after, to be almost drowned in a sea of intense white light, rendering him totally unseeing and helpless. The light gradually faded to a more acceptable level, allowing Tommy time to readjust his eye muscles, when to one end of the hut he caught the faint shadow of another man whose form became more and more distinct. Medium height, with a shock of curly brown hair and dancing eye brows, it was like...

  “Uncle Reub...?” blurted out Tommy, and stopped in mid-word.

  “What was that you said?” Tarna asked, turning to face Tommy. “I do not know what you are saying. What is ‘Unclereub’?”

  Tommy tried to answer but the eyes kept him motionless, and as he was released from their hold he could have sworn he beheld a twinkle of recognition. This, however, was not reflected in the man’s facial expression, which remained cool and stern throughout.

  “I am the Chieftain of All Omni,” he boomed in a voice which fell like thunder, rupturing the profound, comfortable silence forever as it rolled around the room, reverberating from roof to wall as it went. Suddenly, when he thought it would ring in his mind forever, it stopped, leaving behind it a silence to fill the space it had created; a silence so profound it threatened to swallow him up. The silence remained, externally, but with it came long fingers probing the depths of his mind, asking, searching until every thought he had ever had was known to him. His release from this mind questioning was swift, without warning, and so sudden that Tommy was sent reeling backwards, to be stopped from falling to the floor by an enormous rush-covered couch.

  “I know everything now,” said the Chieftain. “Your search is almost too late. I see a hole; a black, gaping hole on the brink of which I see a shape; a small shape with coat fastened about its waist, and ...”

  “Jimmy!” gasped Tommy. “That’s our Jimmy! Where is he? Please tell me. I’ll catch it from mum if he tears his coat or gets hurt.”

  “Great Gaping Ghyll,” the Chieftain continued, almost ignoring Tommy’s pleas. “We will bring it here.”

  “How on earth can you ... bring ... a ...?” he asked, slowing to a halt before he had had time to finish.

  “Do not ask; simply observe and hope that the child is where he should be,” replied the Chieftain.

  The light both inside and out faded as they looked towards the doorway. At first nothing happened, but then, almost imperceptibly gathering in speed and clarity, a picture of the countryside, ever changing, grew out of the blackness. Tommy’s mouth sagged and his head began to swim, when suddenly it stopped, as if a television picture had been frozen in mid-frame.

  What he saw made him gulp and catch his breath. Small and against a great black cavernous expanse, could be seen an indistinct figure with coat fastened about his waist, socks around his ankles, and scratching his head. The telecast turned back to normal speed, with the figure not seeming to know what it was doing or where it was. One more step would mean instant death as he teetered on the brink, hesitating, undecided.

  Suddenly, something seemed to click in his brain which set his feet finally in motion, and at the same time as his right foot trod air, two desperate arms grabbed him around the middle, yanking him back to safety.

  The two bodies, still writhing in the grass from their exertion, finally became still, gasping heavily on top of one another.
The little one turned over eventually, blinking as if he had just opened his eyes onto a brilliant day.

  “Hello Tommy,” it said. “What are you doing here?”

  It was Jimmy.

  “You nearly went down that great hole ... over ... there!” he blurted out, but slowed to a halt as his eyes followed his finger’s indicating line. They both stared. Jimmy blinked and scratched his head again.

  “What hole?” he asked, looking completely around, rather puzzled.

  “Well, there was a hole, I promise,” Tommy replied rather lamely trying to explain the hole, which no longer existed. “It must have ... Well, look, come back to the Chieftain and Tarna. They’ll tell you there was a hole.”

  They both turned smartly around to return to the hut across the rapids to find directly before them a river and a bridge across it, but no hut. What they did see made them gasp with surprise, and their jaws sag in disbelief.

  Rising out of the middle of a small lake, which formed a perfect, circular moat around it, was the most magnificent castle they had ever seen. Actually, as they had never ever seen a castle before, it just had to be the best. Large turrets with slated spires, which were decorated with flags, pennants, ribbons in a stunning array of colours, grew everywhere out of light blue, thick stone walls. One long drawbridge lay across the stretch of water, like an immense wooden rug smoothed out by giant hands.

  “Just look at that...!” Tommy began but didn’t finish. Several things happened at the same time, stopping them in mid-thought. A broad, hairy hand clapped itself across Tommy’s face, cutting off all sound and blocking out the light, whilst at the same time an arm pinned his hands to his sides. He struggled but to no avail. He had been as effectively immobilised as if his body had been fastened in a vice. The only sound he heard, if sound is what it could be called, was a slight squeak from Jimmy, making him realise that the same fate had befallen his brother.

  Heavy, grey and black clouds began to gather threateningly to the north, as an eerie quiet settled on the land. The surrounding air gradually took on a coffee hue, subduing every other colour at will, as large icy globes of rain began to fall from the monstrous shapes created by the swirling fume above. Lightening flicked and flashed, dancing from cloud to cloud as it toyed with the other elements in its ceaseless quest to find earth.

  In the light of the intermittent flashes could briefly be seen, what appeared to be, a building growing ... slowly ... out ... of ... the ... ground! Turret upon turret, stone upon stone, immeasurably strong and black - a castle; the castle of despair! Seth had set his foot to earth again, and his fortress had once more come to rest.

  As the last stone fell into place, a great rolling boom echoed around the land, jumping from tree to mountaintop, dancing along the very cloud-face itself.

  Chapter Five

  “And who do you think you are,” came a thin squeaky voice from somewhere in the darkness, “walking across my domain without so much as a by-your-leave?”

  Although Jimmy couldn’t see anything yet as all the lights had been switched off, he had a feeling that the voice was familiar. Now, where had he heard it before?

  Suddenly, as if someone must have remembered you can’t see very well without light, the brothers’ eyes were blinded for an instant by a bath of intense white brilliance. They soon became accustomed to the brightness, as everything swam into focus. They were in an enormous room with decorated vaulted ceilings so far above them they were almost lost to sight. The walls were hung with rich-looking tapestries in golds and shades of brown and green, which spread partly onto the polished floor.

  Burly guardsmen bedecked in a strange uniform they didn’t recognise, surrounded them as they stood before a great oaken dais upon which sat a mahogany throne in all its glory. It was not the seat which took their gaze, but its occupant. For, sitting - or perhaps squatting might have been nearer the point - on its velvet cushion, and with an enormous ermine cloak around its back and a jewelled coronet on its head, was the most enormous green, warty toad they had ever seen. The face on top of that vast, bloated green balloon was vaguely human, and very familiar to both boys. Jimmy suddenly realised who it reminded him of, and before brother Tommy, who had had the same thought, was able to restrain him, he blurted out...

  “It’s Grumblin’ Gr...!”

  “What’s that?” came the thin reedy squeak (or was it a croak?). “What did you say?”

  “Er, er, nothing,” Tommy butted in, giving Jimmy a dig in the ribs to remind him to keep his mouth shut. “We, er, beg your worship’s pardon, but we are, unfortunately, lost.”

  Oompah

  “Well, well,” the toad replied, “and why, may I ask, are you here? Where do you come from, and why didn’t you ask our permission to be here in the first place.”

  “Well, you see, your honour,” Tommy went on again, assuming the role of spokesman, “we came to, er, visit some friends down in the settlement and ...”

  “Where have you come from?” the voice insisted this time, as the toad turned a darker shade of green around the neck (what there was of it).

  “Well, er, you see your majesty, we ...” Tommy stammered not wanting to tell the truth but at the same time not able to see a way around it.

  At that precise moment, a messenger tumbled rather noisily into the chamber, obviously agitated and on some matter of urgency.

  “Majesty,” he burst out, after bowing three times in their custom - once to the left, once to the right, and finally to the king.

  “Speak,” croaked the toad.

  “Majesty, the Sesqui-senti are abroad again,” went on the messenger.

  “That’s no news,” the toad croaked again. “Raise the drawbridge, and ...”

  “But majesty,” the messenger dared to interrupt, “they are different this time; stronger and ... and they have no fear of water. They are crossing the outer moat, and will soon be on the island. They are changed; more powerful, evil, and ...” He trailed off to a whisper, “... our defences cannot withstand them.”

  “Oh dear, dear,” the toad muttered, rubbing its elongated mouth with an equally long, green fore limb. “I was afraid of that. I must come at once ... supervise ... needed.”

  Having shot from the throne like a spring pop gun going off, he loped down the hallway, punctuating his words as he went with enormous bounds from those long, green knots of muscle and sinew he called legs. He was out of the hall in a twinkling, leaving one exhausted messenger struggling to keep pace. As he passed the startled door guards he flung back his last order.

  “Captain of the Guard,” he shouted, “take ... the ... prisoners ... to ... the guardroom ... I’ll deal ... with them ... later “

  The Captain of the Guard turned out to be the enormous body which had been gripping both their arms as they stood before the king.

  “Well then, now, my lads,” came a deep rumble, “you heard what his majesty said. Come along.”

  The two boys turned simultaneously towards the towering guard to see an enormous grin slowly spread across his face, under that huge shiny helmet.

  “PC...” Jimmy started but clapped his own warning hand across his mouth before he had had time to say any more. The grin continued to grow until it threatened to swallow the whole of his lower face. Added to this, a distinct twinkle bounced from eye to eye; a twinkle it seemed to Jimmy, which recognised what he had begun to say.

  “This way then,” went on the guard. “We’ll have to wait down here until ...”

  “Attention, Captain Mortifer!” a voice cut in as they wound their way downwards along a twisting corridor. That voice stopped the guard in his tracks and jerked his whole body to stiff attention, and for the first time in an age the brothers were released and able to walk normally. But walk they didn’t, for the voice had the same effect, or nearly the same effect, on the boys. It was quiet but authoritative and firm, and as they al
l stood awaiting instruction, the slight figure of a young boy of about eleven stepped out from behind an enormous oaken chest.

  “Highness!” Mortifer said, clicking his heels in salute, and stiffening even more rigidly to attention.

  “I will take personal responsibility for the prisoners,” the boy ordered. “You may go about your business.”

  “Highness!” the guard answered, saluting once again, turning sharply on his highly polished shoes, and stepping off down a smaller passageway to the left.

  During this time the brothers had neither moved nor spoken, but Tommy, with the disappearance of the guard, had found his usual self and began to speak.

  “Who are ...?” he began.

  “Please have the goodness to come this way,” the boy interrupted.

  “I was going to say ‘Who are you and where are we?’ but you rudely interrupted me,” Tommy answered with a snort. If there was one thing he couldn’t tolerate, it was rudeness.

  “I beg your ...” the boy started with mouth agape, but when he saw the earnest look of annoyance on Tommy’s face, mirrored in the smaller one of his brother, he changed his mind.

  “I’m most terribly sorry,” he went on instead. “It was very rude of me not to introduce myself.”

  The brothers chorused a ‘Don’t mention it’ and waved him to continue.

  “My name is Dominic,” the boy went on, “and this is the castle of Oompah, King of the Western Lands of Omni.”