The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One'

by D. J. Ridgway

  ‘Help me; we don’t have much time...’ Dotty watched as Varan began to dig in the pile,

  ‘What the…’ she exclaimed as he brushed some of the dead insects aside revealing Jed, his face and hands swollen with his mouth, nose and ears full of brittle copper coloured ants, then as Varan started to pull at his lifeless body they fell from his clothing in torrents. On reaching clear ground, Varan pressed his fingers to Jed’s neck.

  ‘His heart still beats; he has not as yet begun his journey but he’s not breathing…’ Varan began, hastily clearing his airways of obstruction using magic; the air around them grew perceptibly cooler as the balance took hold. Life briefly seemed to return to the bugs as unseen forces removed them, pulling them from Jed’s throat and lungs attempting to leave his airways clear.

  Jed watched from the ether dispassionately as Varan knelt over his dying body, pinched his nose, opened his mouth and blew gently, he looked with yearning toward the golden gateway in the distance and the start of his Journey into the afterlife.

  ‘You must go back,’ he heard and turning around he saw an insubstantial mass floating next to him in the ether, ‘you must go back,’ he heard again as the mass took form and shape. A beautiful but sad looking young man stood before him, Jed wondered at his sadness before noticing a line stretching from his form, down to the earth below and straight into Rhoàld still lying in the cart. ‘He sleeps…,’ the young man said, ‘your Journey does not begin here, you are needed still, go back.’ Jed opened his mouth to reply and coughed, his belly convulsed showering both himself and Varan in yet more of the copper red ants that had filled his lungs and stomach.

  ‘He will live but he is very ill.’ Varan said as he took a knife from his clothing and opening his hand immediately sliced through his palm, the blood welled up thick and red. Dotty held open Jed’s hand as Varan, taking his now bloody knife sliced Jed’s palm then holding the young man’s hand in his own, Varan’s blood seemed to flow directly into Jed’s open wound. Varan placed his undamaged hand on Jed’s head and held it there.

  ‘I am sorry my boy,’ he said as he began to sing, as he sang, Dotty quickly removed all of Jed’s clothing, attempting to rid him of the now dead ants that had inflicted such grievous injuries. Varan’s blood poured into Jed infusing him with life and strength as it raced around his body expelling the poisons and calming inflamed and swollen tissues. Frightened, Lemba stared at Jed with tears running down her face and as she watched, moisture began to gather on his skin, a clear colourless liquid pushing out of his pores. He was soaking wet and covered in the poison.

  ‘Lemba, get my pack for me please, hurry now child,’ said Dotty as the flow of vile toxins began to slow. The instant Lemba returned with the pack, her sister began collecting some of the liquid from Jed’s skin into a small glass phial as Lemba squatted next to him and took his hand in hers. As the toxins left his body he began to stir, the swellings continued to go down and a normal healthy colour returned to his skin. Varan, noticing the change in the boy altered the song of the spell and the blood that had been flowing copiously from his wound into Jed’s own, finally slowed and stopped. Varan continued to sing as the wounds on both palms began to heal, knitting together slowly and carefully from inside out, the sliced skin and tissue joined and melded then lastly, the top layer of skin joined leaving only a thin white scar. At last, Jed opened his eyes to find everyone bar Rhoàld sitting around him on the ground.

  ‘Careful,’ he croaked, ‘there be fire-ants round ’ere,’ he looked at Lemba, her face and neck covered in red stuff, her beautiful silver hair hidden and covered in dirt and ash and he smiled, he loved her dearly and suddenly wished they were alone.

  ‘Harrumph…careful young man,’ began a very tired Varan, ‘your thoughts are, um…, on show.’ He winked and laughed as he tossed the now ant free trews across Jed’s growing erection. Embarrassed beyond words Jed sat up quickly and hurriedly replaced his trousers as Lemba smiled shyly and walked away.

  ‘We must hurry now,’ began Varan, ‘Gath will have felt the magic being used for the healing. This type of blood magic has a very strong signature; we must make for the water, which, I believe is over the next rise.’ Varan strolled through the grass bending down only to pick up a brace of dead partridges, ahhh, Dinner, he thought as he passed the cart tossed the birds in the back and went to retrieve his horse, leaving Dotty alone with the now semi-naked young man.

  ‘He brought you back from the veil of death young man,’ she said her eyes following the wizard as he climbed upon his horse and began to walk away. ‘Finish dressing quickly, we must go,’ she added as she hurriedly rose and made her way back to her position on the cart. As Jed dressed, he stood and brushed the dust from his clothes and hands. Something feels wrong, he thought as he looked over as much as he could of his body and clothing, lastly looking at both of his hands. Both palms now held identical white scars. One old and one very, very new, death, he thought, she said I’d been dead. All at once, the memory of the ants stinging and biting came back to him, how he had felt the ants crawling up his body and into his ears and nose. He had not been able to breath and had swallowed what seemed like hundreds of the things as he had fought for breath. He remembered being somewhere else too, being out of his body and looking down as Varan worked feverishly on the swollen, red and lifeless form far below him. He remembered seeing the great gateway, thinking he was about to start his Journey and how the beautiful young man had come to him, had helped him to see it was not his time.

  Jed lowered his palms and looked after the members of his small company fifty yards ahead of him. When they were safe once more, he would find out what had happened to the soldiers, why his hands were both scarred, why Lemba’s face was covered in red stuff and finally, he would demand to be told what was going on.

  Chapter 4

  Murder

  Toby looked at the body lying on the floor of the Green Home Inn, Beatrix Drunner was dead, killed in a fit of frustrated fury when Toby realised she was on her monthly cycle, the sight of the menstrual blood had just angered and frustrated him further.

  ‘Dirty bleedin’ ‘oare!’ He had exclaimed, looking at his bloody hand after pulling it from her underclothing, ‘yer dirty bleedin’ ‘oare...’ he had shouted again as he knelt over her terrified form. His anger fuelled, he grabbed her shoulders and banged her head against the floor, shouting obscenities like a mantra. Bea’s skull cracked open, leaving blood and gore oozing across the boards just as his seed spilled into his trews and he smiled as he stood to avoid getting blood on his clothing. The girl’s semi-naked body lay unblinking in a pool of blood and urine and Toby’s disappointment at the failure to capture Gideon and subdue Mayan lay sated for a while.

  ‘I didn’t mean fer yer ter die, Bea,’ he said adding, ‘but yer did it fer me anyway…’ the door to the inn opened and a guard walked in stomping loudly on the wooden floorboards.

  ‘The slavers are ready ter leave serge,’ the guard said, ‘shame about that one though,’ he added, nodding toward Beatrix, ‘she’d ‘ave fixed us a pretty penny I’ll be bound.’ Toby turned to the guard inadvertently standing in the pooling blood.

  ‘Arrange ter meet the slavers in Devilly on our return, we ‘ead toward Branton.’ Toby commanded and looking once more at the body realised he was standing in the rapidly congealing fluid, ‘that’s really disgustin’,’ he said to himself as he lifted his foot and wiped the sole of his boot against Bea’s lifeless form, then checking his boot was free from blood, he walked out of the inn without a backward glance.

  Chapter 5

  The Heart of the Piece

  Gideon’s father pulled the horses to a halt in front of his parents’ cottage, leaned in to the carriage itself and shook his son awake.

  ‘Gid lad, we’ve arrived,’ he said, smiling at the sleeping form. Sonal opened his eyes and looked closely at Gideon; he had not been able to sleep himself knowing that something seemed wrong at the very heart of magic, at the root
from where all life begins its journey and he was worried. He had spent his own journey going over and over all he remembered about Gideon from their very first meeting. Fumbling in his pocket, he retrieved the small rough diamond that had become his lucky talisman and he remembered how he had plucked it from the air when he had first met the boy, so many years ago and how surprised he had been when his spell had worked so well. The strength and power of the light spinning from the stone itself was something that he had never seen before. Gideon! He thought, all the magic and the various spells I have used over the years, my own ability to draw repeatedly from the magic’s root, the spells that have always appeared so much more powerful when Gideon is around. How have I not seen it before? He asked himself as he looked at Jed, his best friend who was leaning forward gently, shaking his son awake and for the first time he tried to find a resemblance. Gideon was tall and blonde with eyes so blue, that at times they seemed piercing, whilst his father, though also tall, had the dark brown eyes and hair that were distinctive of the people from the Beaut Valley. Sonal mentally shook himself, ashamed of where his thoughts were taking him. It is not my business; he told himself and gave the sleeping boy a gentle push with his mind to awaken him. Gideon opened his eyes, his headache still present but more bearable.

  ‘Sleepyhead!’ laughed Mayan as she poked her head into the carriage, ‘we’ve arrived, Gran and Gramps are ‘ere, come and say ‘ello afore yer fall asleep again,’ she giggled merrily at her drowsy fiancé. Gideon’s grandparents had claimed her and her twin as their own for as long as she could remember and she loved them dearly. ‘Yer Da’s unloading all the new wood fer Gramps and I’m gonna see iffen ‘e’s dun anythin’ new in the barn.’ Gideon smiled at Mayan’s departing head as he realised he had slept through most of the last day and for him the journey had been that much shorter.

  “Ello boy, your Da finally let yer outa yer forest an’ in ter the big wide world eh?’ Laughed his grandfather, as Gideon climbed sleepily out of the carriage.

  ‘Come over ‘ere Gid and don’t yer be listening ter yer grandfather teasing the way ‘e do,’ his grandmother interrupted as she pulled him into a tight embrace. ‘So, you an’ Mayan ‘ave finally decided ter marry,’ she added winking at her son. ‘Yer do know Gid, that we all knew it would ‘appen long ago,’ she laughed as she ushered the family into her home.

  Gideon had never visited his grandparents’ home before; his grandfather had built it and the adjoining barn when he had first moved away from Green Home Village. The cottage lay on the outskirts of the town of Branton along a well-used road and close to a large wood. Small and compact, the cottage was not unlike his own home deep within Green Home Forest and seemed to be just as filled with the ornately hand carved wooden furniture that both Gideon and his father preferred.

  ‘Yer know the wood all comes from the forest lad,’ said his grandfather as Gideon walked around the cottage for the first time, exploring and feeling the strength and quality of the wood and marvelling at the feeling of peace and home the cottage gave him, his headache had lessened considerably and he felt alive again.

  ‘I’ve brought the pieces we’ve made ‘ome over the years, an’ sometimes yer Da or I bring raw wood back from the forest, after a visit. Yer gran thinks’ I should use the local wood but I don’t think it would feel the same, there’s sommat ‘bout the wood from ‘ome that’s special,’ he added quietly, reverently, and almost speaking to himself. Gideon smiled at his grandfather knowing exactly what he meant and knowing that he himself liked nothing better than to walk about the trees in the Green Home Forest with Blue and his father, in the forest, he felt at home. Gideon senior, if he could have, would also have lived out his days among the vast trees of the Green Home but circumstance and love of his wife had made him move away, though it had never stopped him pining for the woods and trees he loved.

  ‘Yer Da made some of these pieces ‘isel’ afore ‘e were your age,’ Gideon’s grandfather grinned, as young Gid studied every joint and turn in the beautifully made furniture, slowly running his fingers across the wood and enjoying the silky smoothness.

  ‘That were ‘is first ever piece,’ the old man said, proudly pointing to a large rectangular box sitting under a window. Gideon walked to the window, sat on the sill and splayed both hands on the box, seeing in his mind, his stubborn but methodical father as a boy slowly working the wood with his knife. He smiled and marvelled at the box’s intricate design. The carvings on the sides of the box were functional and solid whereas the top consisted almost entirely of latticework.

  ‘It’s a blanket box; it can be taken apart and moved flat, each plank slots into the next. Yer Da worked fer weeks on it,’ his grandfather said as he opened the lid showing Gideon the cunning latches and clasps that held it together.

  Gideon thought about his own attempts at woodwork and smiled shyly. ‘Well, I be whittling too grandda but somehow…well, the wood don’t ever flow fer me like it does fer you or Da,’ he said taking his latest small wooden figure from the pocket of his jerkin and offering it to his grandfather for inspection. The faceless figure was tall and smooth, each fold and crease in the carefully carved robes flowed like silk; just waiting for a breeze to make them sway and ripple. The figure felt alive, full of passion and vibrancy just needing a face to finish it off before it could begin its work. One hand lay against the robes its fingers spread and finely detailed each nail and joint carved to perfection.

  ‘I did think at one time ‘e were ‘olding sommat in both ‘ands!’ Gideon said quietly, almost granting the wooden carving choices about its own design, his grandfather smiled at the statement knowing it meant his grandson understood the nature of the wood. He studied the carving once more, in its other hand the wooden figure held a book tightly, it must be an important book, ter be ‘eld so, the old man thought. Just looking at the piece in his hands Gideon senior had the feeling he had seen this person before, knew him well despite the fact the figure had no face.

  “Oo be this then boy?’ He asked his grandson, who waited quietly for appraisal of his own piece of woodcraft.

  ‘No-one gramps, it’s just a figure, I can never finish it though, I’ve made loads of ‘em an’ they always end up the same, I jus’ can’t seem ter get the face right, I can’t ever do the face...’ Gideon smiled apologetically at his grandfather whose skills with a knife and a piece of wood were second to none.

  ‘Lad,’ the old man smiled kindly at the boy, ‘tis not ready ter be finished tis all,’ he placed the piece between Gideon’s palms and clasped his own hands around his grandson’s. ‘Close yer eyes boy,’ he said adding, ‘feel the life in the wood, find its soul...,’ Gideon closed his eyes and concentrated, he could feel his grandfather’s rough and callused hands on the backs of his own and inwardly he smiled believing he would never have the same affinity with wood the way his father and grandfather did.

  ‘Feel the wood with your heart boy, not with your mind’, he heard the whispered message in his head and tried to comply, shutting out his grandfather’s warm hands and the ambient noises of the house around him. Almost immediately, he saw the great forest of home and felt the peace within it. His mind wandered familiar paths and walkways and all the time the forest seemed more alive than he had ever felt it. He could feel the sunlight, warm and bright on his skin as it filtered through the dense overhead boughs. It’s warm fer winter, he thought as his journey into the wood progressed. On and on he travelled into little known parts of the forest until at last he was deeper than he had ever ventured. Besides an old ruin in a large glade sat Blue, his blue eyes burning into Gideon’s despite the fact Gideon knew his own were closed. ‘Do I know this place?’ Gideon asked himself, thinking he had seen it somewhere before, still the wolf stared. I’ll be home soon enough boy, Gideon thought, realising how much he was missing the creature. Its piercing blue eyes seemed to fill Gideon’s mind until there was nothing else, nothing but the deep, deep blue then suddenly Gideon felt as if he were falling, fall
ing into a bottomless well and one from which he would never return.

  A hand shot out from nowhere and grabbed him, stopping his endless fall and steadying him allowing his feet to touch the forest floor. He could smell the rough rich peaty earth and the particularly curious pine smell he had known all his life. In his dream, Gideon looked into the face of his rescuer, an old man in long grey and dark blue robes. His hair was white, thick and glossy with a black streak running down one side and Gideon thought he had the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

  ‘Surr, do I know yer?’ Gideon asked as the old man smiled at him and laughed his eyes full of love and concern.

  ‘You obviously know me well enough to listen,’ he replied as Gideon tried in vain to recognise the voice, it was hauntingly familiar but he just could not place it. ‘You should be careful boy,’ the old man said as he pointed at the floor of the glade and a deep well full of water before him. ‘We don’t want to lose you,’ he added as he stepped back from the bemused boy and the edge of the well. Gideon looked at the deep blue water and then up into the smiling face of the old man. In silence, the man extended his arm, his fist tightly clenched toward Gideon. Gideon instinctively raised his own hand, palm up and underneath the old man’s closed fist. ‘This is who you are my boy,’ he said with a sad smile. Gideon closed his hand over the object that seemed to tinkle as it dropped into his palm. It was warm from the old man’s touch. Once more Gideon looked into his eyes.

  ‘I do know yer surr, I be sure of it,’ he replied leaving his fist closed.

  ‘Open your hand when you are ready young Gideon,’ the old man smiled warmly and added, ‘but do not leave it too long, we have work to do, work that has waited long enough already.’