“My dear boy, let me assure you that there is not now, nor has there ever been, anything enchanted about Hanselwood Forest. Indeed, one would find it difficult to imagine a more unremarkably average forest than Hanselwood. Its trees, its grasses, its wildlife, all are decidedly common and can be found in abundance in a million other forests across the land. Its inhabitants are, of course, a different matter. Many of them are both enchanted and enchanting, but I am afraid that their home is decidedly ordinary.”
“So, why do so many magical creatures choose to live here then?”
“Hmmm,” pondered Aurelius, as though such a question had never before occurred to him. “I’m not sure really. Proximity to Tesco perhaps?”
“What?”
“Pardon, young man. I believe you meant to say pardon.”
“Proximity to Tesco?” I continued, ignoring his Aurelius’s advice on the correct use of English, which I did not consider to be of great import at this particular moment. “You can’t be serious. Why would that matter to a magical creature?”
“Well, we can’t all live on berries all the time can we, they do become rather dull. Sometimes one acquires an urge for barbecue sauce flavoured chicken wings.”
“But wouldn’t the staff notice if an ogre walked in?”
“Well, in the daytime, perhaps. But the beauty of Tesco is that it is open every hour of every day. If you go in the middle of the night on a Tuesday, most of the people who work there are asleep on their feet and don’t really notice much about anybody. Indeed, compared to some of the humans you find trawling the aisles at 3am in search of a scotch egg, being a little bigger, or even having scales and an extra eye doesn’t seem too unusual.”
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that every magical creature for miles around has converged on this one forest just to make it a bit easier to get chicken wings, do you? I mean, their must be some other reason surely?”
“Well,” said Aurelius, “first of all, not all magical creatures live in forests. The vast majority prefer to live out normal lives and work in normal jobs. Like your friend Mr Creamy, for example.”
“Mr Creamy is a magical creature?” I asked incredulously, unable to believe there could be anything remarkable about such an ordinary (if forgetful) old man.
“Well of course he is, Charlie! Of course he is! He’s a wizard. How else would he possibly be able to make such delicious ice cream?”
I simply stared at Aurelius in response, once again dumbfounded as to how to argue with such logic, not because I thought it correct, but because it was so obviously incorrect that I didn’t know where to begin my questioning of it.
“As I was saying,” Aurelius continued, “most magical beings choose to live in normal neighbourhoods in the normal world. Indeed, I am quite sure that most of those Alundri who do not live in the human world would choose to do so if they could. Not all magical creatures are blessed with such inconspicuous appearance however. For the ogres, and the fairies, and the goblins, and the trolls, places like Hanselwood Forest provide an essential refuge from the everyday persecution they would face in the world outside. Here they at least have safety in numbers. And, in truth, aside from the odd lost dog walker or hiker, nobody really bothers us much. The humans are too scared to come into a forest they think is haunted, but at the same time, no human is willing to admit aloud that they would take such thoughts seriously, nobody believes the stories enough to come searching the woods for their truth, just enough to stay away. Which suits us fine. Indeed, the whole situation is close to perfect. Well, until The Professor came along that is.”
I had a million more questions that I wanted to ask Aurelius, like how it was that he knew that The Professor was behind the plan to demolish the forest. And why its magical inhabitants could not simply move elsewhere. However, before I had the opportunity to utter another word, we were once again interrupted.
Chapter 6
A voice came from within the trees, the unconcealed fear it contained commanding our immediate attention.
“Mr Jones! Mr Jones! Thank goodness I have found you!”
I turned to see a girl running towards us from the forest. She looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years of age and wore a mud-stained tunic which was covered in dead leaves and bracken and was held in place by a belt that looked as though it had been woven from vines, off of which hung a small, rustically crafted slingshot and a pouch of what I presumed was ammunition. The only other things she wore were big white daisies that floated so naturally on the waves of her long, blonde hair that they looked as if they may have grown from it. Her legs and feet were bare. I had never seen such a beautiful creature in all my life. It was only when she got closer that I realised that the uncommon nature of her looks emanated largely from her strange, slightly up-turned nose and pointy ears.
“Rain?” asked Aurelius, momentarily perplexing me until I realised that he had referred to the girl by her name, which was as unique as her beauty. “My dear girl, whatever is the matter?”
“Raymondo...badger...black...” she panted, making no sense to me whatsoever. Clearly my companion was just as perplexed as I was.
“My dear girl, do calm down. Here, drink some of this,” he said, pulling from inside his coat a small bottle which my eyes could not help but be drawn to. It was similar in design to those bottles people sometimes refer to as ‘flasks’ for no reason I have ever been able to fathom – to me a flask is a vessel for tea, not whisky. This particular bottle though, clearly contained neither of those substances, judging by the deep, regal purple of the liquid contained within its opaque blue moulding. The bottle had been formed from a beautiful, tranquil, unassuming coloured glass that juxtaposed somewhat unpleasantly with the bejewelled red heart that was the vessel’s only adornment. The girl I now knew to be called Rain took it and swigged eagerly.
“Not too much,” warned Aurelius, and for a moment I feared it was a warning which had come too late, for within moments the girl’s face had reddened, and her eyes were bulging, but, just as I feared she was going to vomit all over me, she appeared to regain control of herself. He face returned to its normal colour and when she began speaking again she was a great deal more comprehendible.
“Blackheart! Blackheart is here! Here in the forest!”
“Blackheart? Here? Impossible.” For the first time since I had met him Aurelius looked frightened. The shock of such a spectacle, in turn, passed this fear onto me. “How do you know this? Have you seen him with your own eyes?”
“Well, no... not exactly,” Rain admitted.
“Okay, so how exactly did you come across this information?” the lanky Fernator asked in a tone more threatening than I was used to hearing from him; a tone which clearly did not go unnoticed by the strangely-dressed girl, a notable element of fear having crept back into her voice when next she spoke.
“Well, I was out foraging early this morning – really early, before daybreak, it’s the best time for it you see, before all those pesky squirrels have stolen all the good food. Anyway, I’d barely filled a third of my basket when I ran into Ernie, you know, the badger? Anyway, he was in a terrible state; he told me he had just been to visit The Great Raymondo who had warned him to get home quickly, as one of the bats with whom he shares his cave with had seen Captain Blackheart and his men right here in the forest earlier that night.”
At least, I think that’s what she said. Well, the gist of it anyway, in truth the words fell from her mouth with such speed that they all ran into one another and I had found it very difficult to discern any of them, and even more difficult to believe any of those which I had managed to discern.
“And did Ernie say where this anonymous bat had supposedly spotted Captain Blackheart, the most merciless warrior ever known, and lived to tell the tale?” asked Aurelius, a note of obvious suspicion having entered his tone.
“Right in the very hear
t of the Forest, somewhere along the western bank of the river, over near the caves.”
“And what else did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“NOTHING!?!” bellowed Aurelius. “Nothing about what they were saying, or what they were doing? Nothing at all?”
“No, nothing. Only what I told you. I came and found you as quick as I could, honest,” replied Rain in what was little more than a whisper. She was clearly afraid of Aurelius’s sudden change in mood, as was I.
“Okay then. Okay,” said Aurelius, his voice calmer, his face filled with an apologetic smile. “Thank you, young lady, you have been very helpful. Now, please don’t waste any more of your time here with me, you go and get on with your foraging, leave this to me to look into. There’s nothing for you to be worrying your pretty little head about, you can be assured of that.”
Rain smiled and thanked Aurelius for his help before leaving, looking anything but assured. Indeed, she seemed to be more afraid now than when she had arrived. I suspected that this was largely due to the fear which had been clearly present in forest’s usually ever-calm guardian at the mere suggestion of the arrival of this Captain Blackheart character. I must confess that I too was somewhat perturbed by my new friend’s reaction; if somebody as experienced and confident as Aurelius was scared of this guy, how was I going to be able to protect anything from him?
“Well, I suppose it’s about time that you and I were getting back as well, Charlie,” Aurelius asserted in a voice which echoed with suppressed fear. “We wouldn’t want your parents to worry now, would we?”
“Was she mad? Talking about getting a message from a badger, who heard it from some bloke, who heard it from a bat?” I asked, ignoring Aurelius’s less than subtle attempts to part with my company.
“No, Charlie, I’m afraid that Rain is quite far from mad, indeed she is usually a very reliable, level-headed young woman. You see, she is a tree elf, and tree elves are able to communicate with all animals.”
“Like Doctor Dolittle?”
“Doctor who-little?” he looked perplexed. “No, Charlie, I don’t believe so. Tree elves are a spiritual lot, they don’t give out titles. They believe that every tree elf should be considered equal to the next. I am unaware of this Doctor Do-Nothing fellow, but you should be very wary of him in future, Charlie, for I suspect that he may be a fraud.”
I decided to move on with the conversation, rather than try to explain the realities of Doctor Dolittle to a Fernator.
“So who is this Captain Blackheart anyway?” I asked.
“Captain Blackheart is Professor Balzanfjoord’s right hand man. He is responsible for The Professor’s dirty work. He is a very powerful, highly dangerous and utterly ruthless Gravlier – an enormous creature from the Orc family, but with skin blacker than coal as opposed to the emerald green of Orcs. His very name is enough to strike fear into the heart of anybody who knows of him or his evil deeds.” Aurelius’s tone had been serious and meaningful in his description, but casually returned to normal when he spoke again. “But there is no need for you to worry about him, Charlie. There is absolutely no possibility of Captain Blackheart coming here, to Hanselwood Forest. Rain has clearly been misinformed.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked. “You said yourself that The Professor was trying to destroy the forest, so wouldn’t it make sense for him to send somebody he trusted to oversee it?”
“No, Charlie, it would not,” Aurelius replied firmly, but calmly. “You see, The Professor would not send his most powerful, and most trusted ally out of Roobatzi without good reason. It would leave Blackheart far less powerful and more vulnerable without the protection of the world of dark magic, and it would do the same to The Professor within Roobatzi, who, without his most fearsome general, would be more vulnerable to being overthrown by rebel elements. No, I can assure you that Blackheart is not here. Hanselwood Forest is simply not important enough to The Professor to be worthy of sending Blackheart. No, I’m afraid that the humans The Professor has bought off will very likely be more than a match for this little forest all by themselves.!
“What if you’re wrong? What if there is something special about Hanselwood Forest, and you just don’t know about it?”
“For the last time, Charlie, there is nothing special about Hanselwood Forest. And if there was, I would know about it. I have been the guardian of this forest for longer than you have, been alive young man!”
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. “I just thought...”
“No, Charlie, please, do not worry yourself – it is I who should be apologising. Your question was a perfectly valid one and I realise that you meant no ill by it. However, there is another reason for my certainty on the matter. You see, The Great Raymondo is a genie, and everybody knows what traitorous beings genies are. They are completely incapable of speaking the truth.”
“Oh, I see... hang on a minute. You’re telling me genies are real? And they live in this country? But, I thought Rain said Raymondo lived in a cave. Aren’t genies supposed to live in lamps?”
“A common mistake I’m afraid,” Aurelius laughed. “Legend has it that one genie, many centuries ago, was cursed by an evil wizard to spend eternity trapped inside a lamp, to be used at will. That lamp was then found by a young human named Aladdin and the story worked its way into legend. Real genies can come and go as they please, they have no one master and must grant the wishes of anybody who asks them. As a result, most are recluses, hiding themselves away from societies where they are constantly asked to perform their gifts, often with terrible consequences. Instead they live in remote locations, speaking only with animals, for animals have neither the ability nor the inclination to ever wish for anything.’
“Genies can talk to animals, but animals can’t wish?”
“That’s right. You see, while genies can understand animals, and vice versa, animals don’t exactly talk. It’s more that they use sound to help communicate their mood, but, as with all creatures who are able to communicate with animals, the connection is largely telepathic.”
“I see.”
***
In truth, despite all the incredible things I had witnessed over that past few days, I was still having trouble coming to terms with a world where magic existed, especially as it was a world I was suddenly so firmly a part of. I guess it just takes time to accept the truth when it comes as a direct contradiction to a lifetime of lies. Indeed, I suspect that many of you are suffering from the same ailment as you read these words. And why shouldn’t you be? After all, I have seen all I have told you with my own eyes, whereas you have merely heard the second-hand ramblings of an old man. The majority of you have probably never experienced anything magical at all in your entire young lives. That is a great shame, but you still have plenty of time. Magic, unlike human society, does not judge people’s worthiness according to their years. Just remember this; in life, things are far more likely to happen to you if you believe that they will. This is a fact that counts double for magic, for in most cases you must truly believe it before you can see it.
Chapter 7
I had returned home late that night, having politely declined Aurelius’s invitation to stay for supper (which he had announced would consist of ‘Jumbleberry Pie’, before proceeding to tip all the carefully separated berries into the same enormous cooking pot. “Don’t worry,” he had reassured me upon catching me staring at him as if he were crazy, “I haven’t forgotten the accompanying vegetables – I’ve made plenty of sherbet-filled Yorkshire puddings for two”). Although the long summer days meant that it was not yet dark when I returned home, my parents were still angry that I had stayed out so late without telling them where I would be or when I would be back, especially as this had meant that my father had had to walk Baskerville, missing his favourite television programme in the process. After a long lecture about responsibility, I had been sent to bed with no supper, alth
ough, after an hour or so, my mother had secretly snuck me a few slices of cold pizza as she often did in such situations, not because she felt I deserved them, but because I was a very slim and pale skinned child and she was constantly concerned as to whether I was eating enough.
I awoke early the next morning, and so was able to join my father at the breakfast table before he went to work; a rare occurrence in our house during the school holidays, during which I usually took the opportunity to lie in. Clearly happy to see me, all the events of the previous evening had been forgotten and the three of us laughed and joked over plates of crisp bacon and scrambled egg, accompanied by unending rounds of hot, buttered toast and freshly-squeezed orange juice.
I must confess that my early rising that morning was no accident. You see, my father worked for the council - in what role, I had little idea, aside from the fact that it was a reasonably-paid bureaucratic position with little power or respect that he greatly disliked and performed only to feed and clothe our family. It was however, a role that rendered him the best person I knew to ask advice on the forthcoming development of Hanselwood Forest, and so, accordingly, I had set an alarm in order that I might arm myself with as much information as possible in order to help me succeed in my newly acquired quest to protect the secret of magic.
Not wanting to invite questions about why I cared about what was happening to the forest, or especially how much time I was spending there and who with, I bided my time before asking my question, talking about everything from the weather to our forthcoming family holiday to Great Yarmouth before broaching the subject I was actually interested in.
“What are you gong to be doing at work today, Dad?”
“Oh, just the usual boring paperwork, nothing that would interest you I’m afraid,” answered my father, pretending to dismiss the question, but clearly happy that somebody had cared enough to ask about his day.
Aurelius and I Page 6