by Tim ORourke
Page 11
Stepping towards his friend and, placing a hair-covered hand over his arm, Warden looked into his eyes and said, ‘Wally, we must never do this again. We must never tell any of our friends what we have discovered. ’
‘Why not?’ Wally asked.
‘Because it’s dangerous. Someone may get hurt or worse,’ Warden cautioned him.
‘But…’
‘No ‘buts’ Wally,’ Warden said. ‘Promise me you’ll never tell anyone or…’
‘Or what?’ Wally challenged him.
‘Or I will never speak with you again. ’
Seeing the seriousness in his friend’s eyes and never wanting to lose his friendship, Wally lowered his catapult and said, ‘you have my word. ’
Warden watched as Wally threw the rest of the berries into the river. Then they turned and in silence, they made their way back to their camp.
A few weeks later Wally had gone off through the Howling Forests alone and was never seen or heard of again. Some said they had heard a terrifying bang similar to that of an explosion come from some way away. The Noxas had searched for Wally for weeks and no one could explain his strange disappearance, but Warden knew in his heart what had happened to him. He promised himself he would never touch another inferno berry as long as he lived.
So it was with some trepidation and a heavy heart that Warden reached out and began to pluck the berries from the inferno bush that Wasp had guided him to. He filled the pockets of his dungarees with them, and when they were all full, he crammed his giant hands with as many as he could carry.
He took them to a nearby clearing and made himself a small fire. He felt about in the earth until he found himself a large slab of rock. Covering this with the inferno berries, Warden placed it into the fire. Cocking his head to one side, he waited and listened for the first sounds of hissing.
As he waited, he thought of his friend Wally again and if he still had his eyes he knew they would be weeping. Hearing the faintest of hisses, Warden reached into the fire and withdrew the rock. While he waited for them to cool, he ripped the sleeves from his red checkered shirt and knotted two of the ends. Scooping up large handfuls of the berries, he filled the sleeves with them. Once they were full, he tied the ends with pieces of twine which he looped down and fastened to the knotted ends of the sleeves – making two slings. Warden then produced a small piece of paper and pencil from his pocket. He pictured the letters and words he wanted to write, and let his hand move over the paper. Without being able to see the words that he scrawled, Warden wrote two short notes and fastened them to the slings.
Once he had finished, he scooped everything together and made his way back towards the clearing where William, Neanna and Zach still slept.
Wasp led Warden into the small circular area. Sniffing each of them out in turn, Warden placed the items he had gathered on the ground. Resting the catapults and the inferno berries beside Neanna and William, he hoped that they would both read the note attached before using them.
Knowing that he could do no more to aid them on their journey, Warden stooped over his sleeping son and ruffled his hair. Whispering into Williams’s ear, he said, ‘I forgive you son. ’
Without looking back, Warden commanded Wasp to lead him to the foot of the Snowstorm Mountains.
Chapter 13
Knowing that his nephew had stepped through a doorway into Endra caused Fandel a headache. The pain was a dull thud, but he knew if he didn’t remedy the situation the headache would soon begin to pound and then beat against his ageing skull.
Throat had released the Demonic Guardians to dispense with Zach, but it wasn’t the thought of his nephew dying a hideous and painful death that troubled him; it was the knowledge that Zach would never be returning home.
Anna’s illness, he could deal with. He could write the sick certificates himself and that would end any further inquiry. But a missing sixteen-year-old-boy who had been left in his care, that could be more difficult to explain. His college would start asking questions, and he could only say that Zach had gone to stay with relatives for so long before the authorities started poking their noses into his affairs.
Fandel couldn’t give a shit about the ‘busy-body teachers’ and the ‘know-it-alls’ from social services, they could ask all the questions they wanted, but not just yet. The time wasn’t right. Once Anna and the Queen were both dead, he had planned to slit his nephew’s throat anyway, and then disappear through his doorway into Endra and never return.
So until that day had arrived, he didn’t want any interference from the authorities to scupper his plans.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Fandel rubbed his temples with his pointed fingers. The thuds inside his head had already turned into bangs and he felt as if he just might puke. Then Fandel had an idea.
He would report his nephew missing to the police. Yes! He would go to the police and say that his poor little nephew, traumatized out of his tiny mind due to his parent’s sudden death and who he loved with all his heart and soul, had done a bunk and run away to London. But he would need something; a letter left by Zach in his own hand, declaring his unhappiness and desire to runaway to London.
Grinning to himself, Fandel went to his study and found himself a piece of writing paper and a pen. Turning to his many bookshelves, he ran his fingers along the spines of the books until he found the one he was looking for. Pulling it from the shelf, Fandel turned it over in his hands. The book was bound in a mauve coloured hide and the pages were yellowed and dog-eared. Smiling, Fandel looked down at the title.
The Primeval Book of Magic and Sorcery
Volume Six hundred and Sixty-Six
Fandel didn’t know who had written the book and conjured up the hundreds of spells and potion recipes within its pages, but he had a good idea. He hadn’t read or seen the other six hundred and sixty five volumes either and had often wondered what glorious and devious concoctions might be hidden within their pages.
Fandel went to his desk and sat down. Placing the large book before him, he began to thumb through the pages. His wizened eyes scanned each page in turn as he sought out an appropriate spell. There were pages of curses and magical spells for all kinds of bewitchments, but he didn’t want to turn Zach inside-out so his intestines and brains were on show for all to see and he didn’t want to replace his arms with his legs and watch him scuttle across the room like a malformed crab. He just wanted to…and then he saw it…just what he’d been looking for.
With nervous excitement, he ran his finger across the page title and said aloud:
‘The Demented Hand of Deceit. ’
Scanning the page, he ran one crooked finger beneath the lines of words. He read the words over and over again until he was confident that he could remember them. Once he was ready, he closed the book, sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Picturing his pathetic nephew in his mind’s eye, Fandel felt repulsed at the sight of him. Swallowing a mouthful of bile, he stretched out his right hand and began to say the words he had learnt from the book.
Lips flapping up and down like sails in a storm, he whispered the spell over and over again. The words and phrases circled the image of Zach that he held in his mind. Lips moving faster and his voice becoming louder, Fandel began to chant:
Hand of boy, hand of joy,
Give his fingers
For me to destroy
Take his fist, take his gift
Replace his knuckles
With thy mist
Make my hand, change my hand
Let it dissolve
Into grains of sand
Chanting the words over and over again, spittle began to fly from his lips and splatter the back of the hand that he held out before him. As the spittle touched his paper-thin skin it began to bubble and blister. Over and over Fandel repeated the words. His narrow chest began to rise and he tapped his feet in time on the wooden floor.
The
n, just as he had commanded in the spell, his fingers began to breakup, shift and disintegrate into a fine shower of sand. Fandel’s hand fell apart and the sand blew about the room as if trapped in a tornado. The sand hovered in the air just above his sleeve where his gnarled old hand had once been.
Make it new, make it brew
Reform my hand
So it’s young and true!
Spitting the last of the spell from his lips like poison, the grains of sand hovered for a moment then shot up his sleeve. Shaking in his seat, Fandel gripped his arm with his left hand. He opened his eyes and stared down at the empty space. Then, as if by magic, five fingers began to ooze from the end of his shirtsleeve. These fingers were attached to a hand which in turn was attached to a wrist.
Looking down at his new hand, Fandel sighed in wonder. He placed his left hand next to it which was liver-spotted and wrinkled like a carrier-bag. The other was that of a young boy’s, smooth and unmarked. This was the hand of his nephew. Feeling very pleased with himself, Fandel plucked up the pen and paper and began to write a letter from Zach. This is what he wrote:
To my dear Uncle Fandel,
Even though your kindness shows no boundaries, and you have been a wonderful uncle to me and my sister Anna since the death of our parents, I have taken the decision that I need some time on my own.
However much I have tried, I cannot come to terms with the fact that my mum and dad have gone and as you know this has caused me great sadness. Anna is dealing with her grief in her own way and taken to her bed in a state of deep depression.
It hurts me to see you so worried about us and I am forever grateful to you for all the love and kindness you have shown Anna in your attempts to make her better. I therefore believe that if I were not around then you would be able to give her your full attention.
I want you to know that I have decided to run away to London where I hope I will be able to find the peace that I am looking for.
Please don’t look for me as I know that this will take you away from all the love and support that you are giving Anna as she tries to deal with the loss of mum and dad. I just need to deal with that loss in my own way.
With all my love dear uncle
Zach Black
Putting down the pen, Fandel admired his cunning. He read the letter over and over until tears brimmed in the corners of his eyes then spilt down his emaciated cheeks. Placing the letter in an envelope, he couldn’t hold back any longer and he sat and rocked with uncontrollable laughter.