Sanctuary

by E. Edgar Price

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  The floor creaked beneath the weight of Benji’s foot. He stopped, holding his breath. It sounded so loud, like a groaning giant, but that was probably just his imagination. He waited, but no one came to investigate. With a quiet sigh, Benji slowly opened the dark oaken door in front of him, twisting the brass knob all the way so there would be no click. He closed the door softly behind himself and turned to examine Grandpa’s study.

  Benji knew he wasn’t supposed to be here. Grandpa had specifically forbidden anyone to enter this room. But after finding Marvin, Benji began to wonder if Grandpa might be hiding something. Was he really in here for hours a day filling in ledgers?

  Benji also noticed his grandfather disappeared occasionally, taking one of the horses from the stables. Sometimes he was gone all day, but he usually went alone. What was he doing out in the woods by himself? Was he really just mending fences and counting rare birds?

  Marvin told Benji about a man named Harry. This Harry person was supposed to know what to do with “magical misfits”, as Marvin put it. But since Marvin had never actually met Harry or seen a picture or heard a last name, he had no idea where to find him or where to start looking. Benji thought Harry might be connected to the wildlife sanctuary somehow, so he began cajoling Uncle Matt to let him spend time on the computer in the library. It was the only computer in the house with an internet connection.

  Benji found lots of men named Harry in Colorado’s past, but his big break didn’t come from the computer at all. A few days after Marvin’s surprising entrance into his life, Benji was playing a game of chess with Sarah in the parlor. He was trying to spend at least part of the day downstairs, so that his relatives wouldn’t notice how much time he was actually spending holed up in his room. He didn’t want them suspicious.

  Sarah was winning the match and Benji, already bored and frustrated, was wishing he was back in his room hanging out with Marvin. Marvin read books while Benji was gone and always had a million questions upon his return. The genie was certainly better company than anyone else. Benji gazed dully across the room. His wandering gaze landed on a portrait of an old man with a long mustache dressed in heavy black clothes. He was standing next to a plain looking woman also in heavy old fashioned clothes. The large photograph was sepia with age.

  “Benji!” Sarah said his name sharply. “It’s your move.”

  “What?” Benji growled. He’d been absorbed in the picture, not paying attention to the game. He gave an exasperated sigh after Sarah gestured to the game board and moved a white knight without much enthusiasm.

  “Check mate,” Sarah declared after her next move. Good for her, he thought meanly.

  Benji looked down at the board. Sure enough, his king was left pinned and he had no real moves left. “I was distracted by that photo on the wall,” Benji said defensively. “I think the creepy guy in black jinxed my moves.”

  Sarah laughed, not noticing her little brother’s ill mood, and began to reset the chess pieces. Aunt Rachel rebuked him from her chair where she sat reading the newspaper (the newspaper always got to the sanctuary a day late and Benji wondered why they bothered to read it all, the news was on TV anyway). “Those are your great-grandparents,” she told him as if that mattered. “Back then, it wasn’t common to smile much in photos. Plus you only got one shot at it or you had to pay extra.”

  Benji hummed a vague response, but Sarah seemed interested. “Really?” she asked leaving the chess pieces scattered to examine the photo. “I wondered who they were, but never thought to ask. The man does look a bit like Grandpa, I guess.”

  Aunt Rachel stood next to Sarah while Benji dawdled with the scattered pieces. He was anxious to make an exit, but didn’t want to leave too abruptly. Questions would not be welcome. “I always thought he looked more like his mother, your Great-Great-Grandmother Margaret, than his father. He told me he had an uncle, his father’s brother, that he resembled most, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of him.” Aunt Rachel was still yammering on about family history. “The brother died though. In one of the world wars I think.”

  “That’s sad,” Sarah said. “Was Grandpa’s dad close to his brother?”

  “You’d have to ask Grandpa about that, honey,” Aunt Rachel said. “Harrison, your great-grandfather, was dead and gone long before I was born. I never knew my grandparents. They both died very young compared to today’s standards of living.”

  Their voices trailed off and Benji sat frozen, a white queen tottering on the edge of its base because he’d been about to place it next to the king. Harrison. Why hadn’t Benji thought of it before? Marvin was old, much older than he appeared, and when he was sent here Harrison Rose, not Leland Rose, would have been running the sanctuary and the farm. What if ‘Harry’ was really Harrison?

  Grandpa’s name was shortened to Lee. Lots of names got shortened; even Benji’s full name was Benjamin. But if Great-Grandfather Harrison was Marvin’s ‘Harry,’ did that mean that he knew about Marvin? Or genies? Or maybe even something else?

  Benji’s thoughts were scattered. He left the chess pieces in chaos, letting the queen fall and roll off to the floor. He was too excited. He had to tell Marvin and he raced up to his room without a backward glance.

  Once back in his room, he shut the door quickly and found Marvin sitting on the middle of his bed reading a book with flying saucers on its cover. “Marvin!” he exclaimed. His coup was too great to worry about keeping his voice down. “I think I found him! I think I know who Harry is!” Benji’s voice was harshly triumphant. “Or was anyway,” he amended.

  Marvin looked up with sudden anticipation and dropped the book he was holding. “So,” he made an impatient gesture with his hand, “who is he? And more importantly,” Marvin added, “Where is he and can he help me?”

  Benji sat in his desk chair and swiveled it to face Marvin. Bracing his hands on his knees, he said, “I think he was my great-grandfather.” As he’d hoped, he managed to dumbfound Marvin with his news.

  The genie insisted that Benji explain, and Benji related the conversation about the photograph and his suspicion that Harry was the nickname of his great-grandfather, Harrison. Marvin agreed that this made sense, more sense than any other ‘Harry’ Benji had come up with so far.

  “Does that mean your grandfather already knew I was stuck in the attic?” Marvin frowned. He was obviously disappointed to find that Harrison was dead, but Benji ignored that.

  “I don’t know,” Benji answered. “Maybe not. Aunt Rachel said Harrison died pretty young, so maybe he died before he could tell anyone about you and they just assumed you were a normal desk lamp.”

  “I am NOT the lamp,” Marvin corrected loudly. “I am the genie in the lamp. How many times to I have to tell you?” he said irritably. Benji ignored the genie’s foul tempered response.

  “Maybe Harrison knew all about mythical creatures and magic and kept it a secret from everyone,” Benji suggested.

  “So that means my chance at getting any sort of help for my,” Marvin cringed, “affliction,” he muttered the word, “died years ago and I’m still stuck.”

  Benji considered his shiny friend. Marvin turned out to be a pretty cool friend. He may look like a smarmy nerd, but he was actually kind of funny and knew a lot thanks to his previous travels. Benji didn’t want Marvin to be discouraged, so he confided his other hunch to the genie. “Maybe not,” he said. The dejected blue face looked slightly less glum.

  “What if my Grandpa knows about supernatural stuff too?” Benji offered. “I mean, I know that Grandpa inherited this place from his father, so he could have inherited knowledge, as well. Like in journals or something.” Benji told Marvin about the private study he was ordered not to enter.

  “If I was going to hide something,” Marvin said thoughtfully, “I’d certainly keep people away from it, but I’d also make it seem really uninteresting, so no one would be curious anyway.”

  “Nobody would want to go through a b
unch tax papers or animal accounts,” Benji agreed. Still, Benji was uncertain about sneaking into the study.

  “I don’t want to get caught, especially if there’s really nothing to find in there,” he said. It wasn’t that he was scared. He just didn’t want anyone finding out about Marvin.

  Marvin nodded. “You’ll have to wait until you’re sure the coast is clear and be really quick about it.” His forehead scrunched in blue wrinkles and he pushed his glasses up on his nose, weighing the problem in his mind. “The best way,” he said, “would be to grab only one or two things of interest, perhaps the first items you come across, and get out of the study as fast as possible.”

  Benji warmed up to the idea quickly. “Fast,” he agreed, “In, out and gone.” Benji had a sudden thought. “But what if Grandpa notices something missing?”

  “Take something small,” Marvin suggested, “and sneak back into the study to replace it after a few days.”

  “That way,” Benji caught on, “even if it is discovered missing, once it’s back in the study Grandpa will only think he misplaced it!”

  “With none the wiser,” Marvin finished.

  That was when Benji started watching Grandpa more closely. He began to think that not only did his grandfather know about magical beings, but he was somehow involved with them.

  Benji wasn’t been sure what he would find in the study. However, now that he saw the room again, he thought it might be easier. The place was a mess.

  Papers were strewn about the room, drawers were opened, files were stacked in the leather chairs, and books were left open on the desk. However, Benji had plenty of time to find something, and was resentfully grateful that Sarah provided the opportunity.

  Sarah got sick yesterday and was staying in bed all day today. Grandpa went up to her room five minutes ago with the wooden chess set and Benji took his chance. He listened at Sarah’s door until he was sure they were beginning a game (a chess match, he had learned, was usually a long, drawn out sort of thing). With the assurance that his grandfather was busy, Benji told Marvin he was going for it. The genie agreed this was a good opportunity. After creeping around to make sure everyone else was occupied too, Benji made his way to the study.

  He probably had at least a half an hour before Grandpa and Sarah finished their game, but maybe only minutes before someone else came by and discovered him. He ignored the piles on the desk. Grandpa was sure to notice if any of that was missing, he thought, instead Benji went for the large drawers in an unopened filing cabinet. Jackpot!

  The drawer was filled with maps, mostly hand drawn and old in nature. Benji hurriedly parsed the selection and grabbed one that said “Black Rock Sanctuary” in the corner. He shoved the map underneath his shirt and moved to the bookshelves.

  He’d need something small, something that would give him answers, but wouldn’t be missed. He found it on the bottom shelf. It was a thin volume, simply titled A Handbook, but the author was listed as The Wizard Halcyon of Asgaran. Seemed suspicious enough to Benji, so he took it and slipped the tiny book in his back pocket. It was just small enough to fit.

  As he turned to leave, he realized he was sweating anxiously. Benji opened the door with as much care as before and closed it just as quietly. No one in the hall, he confirmed. He actually had no idea how long he was in the study.

  Fear and anticipation made him want to hurry back up to his room, but he made himself walk normally. If someone caught him now, they probably wouldn’t notice his purloined items. Unless, of course, he gave them reason to look by acting guilty.

  Safe again in his room, Benji let out a huge breath and leaned against the back of his door. Marvin was pacing the length of room and now addressed him impatiently. “Well?” he queried.

  “I think I might have found something,” Benji said. He presented Marvin with the map and the book from his pocket. Marvin took the map and unfolded it.

  “I think you may have, my friend,” he said and gave a low hum. “This might be more than we both bargained for.”

  Benji could only see the back of the map, so Marvin turned it around. It was map of the farm, all right. But the farm was actually one tiny section circled on the right side of the diagram. East, Benji mentally corrected himself with a glance at the compass in the lower left corner. The rest of the map was filled with odd lines surrounding forested areas and blank valleys. That wasn’t what had startled Marvin, though. Benji’s eyes widened as he took in the labels inside the dotted lines: Centaur Territory, Fairy Ring, Troll Camp.

  Benji took the map and spread it over his desk. He and Marvin both bent over it, examining it in silence before Marvin asked, “Didn’t you tell me we were on a wildlife sanctuary?” They looked at each other. Benji imagined his mouth was agape in an expression identical to Marvin’s: awe and wonder. “Just what exactly did you mean by ‘wildlife’?”

  “Apparently not wolves,” Benji said softly. No wonder Grandpa forbade them to enter the woods. The map showed a distinct circle of woodland surrounding the farm. It was labeled as ‘Neutral Territory.’ The area of the farm had the moniker ‘Protectorate’ written over it in curling script.

  The map was hand drawn, but it seemed relatively new, not like old parchment or something, but like a frequently read letter. Benji checked the top of the map. “Black Rock Sanctuary” was the title, just as Benji had seen it before. Could this be real? Glancing at Marvin’s blue face, he thought it had to be. If genie’s were real, it was a distinct possibility that centaur’s were too.

  “What about the book?” Marvin pointed at the book still in Benji’s hand.

  “I picked it up because it says the author is a wizard,” Benji explained. He opened the small volume to display the title page. Marvin raised his eyebrows and shrugged when Benji asked him if he knew anything about wizards. “Sorry, not part of my education,” he said.

  Benji flipped through a few pages, before stopping somewhere in the middle. “The nature of Dwarves is ruled by an obsession with work. The creatures measure worth by how much effort is put into acquiring wealth rather than any apparent physical manifestations,” he read aloud. He flipped some more pages and almost gasped at what was written there. The history of Dragons is well documented, but confusing in its complexity. Dragons?

  Wordlessly he showed the passage to Marvin, who’s expression went from wonder to fear. Benji gave him a questioning look and Marvin pointed to the map on the desk. There, in the northeast corner, between an area labeled Fire Pits and two mountains tagged as King’s Teeth was another identifier in scrolling script. This one said, Dragon Territory.

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  Chapter 16: Mære is Not a Horse