Jaikus and Reneeke Join the Guild

by Brian S. Pratt

  James ol’ boy, he thought to himself. You’re screwed!

  Two

  _______________________

  His mind whirled as he attempted to come to grips with the enormity of the situation. There has to be a rational explanation! The forest surrounding the meadow appeared like any forest that might exist back on Earth; pine trees, birds singing in the distance, insects buzzing here and there; normality. Nothing strange, except for the little detail that there was no way he could have arrived at such a place by stepping through a door. This was something straight out of one of his books.

  The ad said “traveling.” Well, I have traveled. The ad also said that being well read in fantasy novels and experience with role playing games would be a bonus. Thinking of the little creature just encountered, James saw the logic in that as well. Such a background might enable a person to more willingly accept these odd occurrences. Provided of course, that all this was real.

  Okay, let’s take this one step at a time. What actually happened to you? You were on the 23rd floor of an office building, stepped through a door and then found yourself in the middle of this meadow talking with an odd looking little creature. Have you lost your mind?

  After taking a quick mental check, he decided insanity was not the culprit. But could an insane person tell? No odd thoughts or urges ran through his mind. No hallucinations, unless this meadow and that creature could be considered as such.

  He ran his fingers across the grass. Feels normal. He again took in his surroundings. Everything looked and felt quite real. So, if this is real, then what happened? A breeze ruffled his hair which only added to the sense that all was real. He closed his eyes and took deep breath, held it for a second, and then slowly exhaled. Opening them again, he found the meadow unchanged. He didn’t really expect that to change things, but it was what everyone did who got into these sorts of situations.

  I’m not in the Twilight Zone. I don’t see Rod Sterling over to the side talking to the viewers. At this point, he would hardly be surprised if he did. Then if this place is not a hallucination, it has to be real!

  Holding up the book acquired in the waiting room, he took a much more interested look at it than before. An odd design was embossed on the cover, and the book held only a few pages. Think, James, think! Let’s for the moment consider the possibility that all this is in fact real. What now? You were brought here for some purpose; that goes without saying. Why else would that little creature have been “sent” here to deliver the message? Could this be for your benefit? Probably not; it never is. James reflected on various books read over the last several years. Some dealt with this sort of thing and if memory served, the main character rarely had a fun time of it.

  For the sake of argument, let’s suppose this is in fact, a true guidebook on magic. And let’s further suppose that since I was brought here and told to bring it with me, then it stands to reason that I should be able to gain some benefit by the information contained within. Why else would they have bothered? And who exactly are “they?” Realizing some questions would have to wait, he opened the book and reread the first couple paragraphs. Two sentences grabbed his attention:

  Rhyme and meter are the most effective forms of spell construction.

  Maintain a visualization of the effect you wish to produce.

  Sounds easy enough. What the heck, let’s give it a try. Best to keep it simple. He spied a small stick lying on the ground. Concentrating, he created a visualization of the stick rising off the ground. Now for the words…

  Little stick that I have found,

  Float three feet off the ground.

  Mimicking the action of a dozen different wizards from literature and film, he raised his hand toward the stick and spoke the incantation. With the utterance of the first word, an odd sensation developed deep within his body. Sort of like water rising behind a dam. The growing pressure was not an entirely unpleasant feeling. The utterance of each word caused the pressure to build. As soon as the last word was spoken, the dam broke and power surged forth. He could almost see magic flowing from his outstretched hand to the stick, though it was probably just his imagination.

  The stick slowly rose. It reached nearly a foot off the ground before he became so excited at the effect that his concentration broke and the stick fell back to the ground with a clatter.

  I DID IT!!!!

  James ol’ boy, you are one amazing wizard!

  Cavorting with jubilation, he raced over and examined the stick which just a moment before had been floating in the air. He hesitantly reached out and touched it. Seeming normal, he picked it up and examined the wood more closely but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Feeling a little cocky, he quickly formulated another set of words, visualized the effect he desired, then tossed the stick into the air yelling,

  Stick who once on the ground did lie,

  Stay your course there in the sky!

  His verse wouldn’t win any poetry contests; but then, at the moment he was more into functionality than artistry. This time he was determined to maintain the visualization. With the utterance of the last word, the power once again surged forth. The stick’s flight came to a sudden halt at eye level. As it floated motionless, James controlled his excitement so as to maintain the visualization and not disrupt the spell.

  He came to the stick and grinned while walking around where it hovered. Moving his hand over and under the stick, as a magician might do to prove to his audience the absence of supporting wires, he encountered nothing. He then reached out and placed his index finger upon its wooden surface. The stick moved the barest of a fraction, but otherwise maintained its position. Placing his hand under the stick, he ceased concentrating upon his desire for the stick to remain motionless in the air and it dropped into his hand.

  “Yes!”

  Quite pleased, he smiled at his success. I could get to like this. Then sadness came over him when he thought of how his grandparents were going to feel when he didn’t come home. I may never make it home. Oh my God! What about Dave? He saw me go through the door. How will he take it? I guess the best he can, that’s all any of us can do.

  Reaching into his backpack he removed one of the candy bars he had brought along and munched on it while contemplating his next course of action. Savor it while you can. No telling how long it will be before you can get another. Then the reality of his situation sunk in. What am I going to do for food? Shelter? Toilet Paper??? The thought of using leaves didn’t bother him half as much as it had before that one camping trip with his dad oh so long ago. He smiled wistfully at the memory.

  Realizing that leaning against the log wasn’t going to improve his situation; he finished the candy bar and then took a really good look around the clearing to determine by which direction he should leave the meadow. Other than the stream, there was naught but trees and more trees. Each direction looked as densely forested as another.

  By the position of the sun, it was a little after midday. This surprised him as it had only been mid-morning when he and Dave departed the bus on Commercial Avenue. Maybe time works differently here?

  One of the things that little creature had said was “to get your sorry butt to the village of Trendle,” wherever that may be. The forest looked unforgiving, lacking even the most rudimentary type of path. He would have to forge his way through a tangle of underbrush when he left.

  Trendle. It would’ve been more helpful if he would have at least told me which way to go! Sighing, he pulled a quarter out of his pocket, Heads- North or South, Tails- East or West. He flipped the coin in the air and let chance be his guide. He grabbed the quarter on its descent, flipped it on the back of his hand and looked. Tails. East or west then. Taking the coin one more time he tossed it up into the air. Heads- East Tails-West. This time he allowed the quarter to fall to the ground and come to rest. Tails. West it is.

  Determining where West was by the position of the sun, he shouldered his backpack. A touch of excitement mingled with fear and appreh
ension. Sure, he had no clue where he was or even if he would ever find his way home. But beneath such a beautiful blue sky on a warm summer day, things didn’t seem quite so bad. He had worked magic hadn’t he?

  En route across the meadow to the forest’s edge, he spied a sturdy branch lying upon the ground. After removing the smaller twigs and branches, he soon held a stout walking stick. Turning back to the forest, he paused upon reaching the edge. His excitement dimmed as he stood there about to enter an unknown world. What lies beyond these trees? What secrets may be hidden within? Beneficial ones? Or those less so? Taking a deep breath, he pushed a tangle of undergrowth out of the way and entered the forest.

  Using the walking stick to clear a path, he forged through a tangle of bushes lining the edge of the clearing only to find more beyond. James had always liked being in the woods, even ones as overgrown as this. Time spent in the outdoors had always brought him a peace that could never be found in a city or around other people. His dad used to take him camping in forests similar to this one when he was little. Good times.

  James soon realized that this forest was nothing like the tame camping areas his dad had taken him. For one thing, this one had no paths. The bushes and trees had become an entangled mess, forcing him to push his way through, often with painful results. Walking across the uneven ground soon had his ankles aching. Bleeding from a myriad of scratches and scrapes, his feet protesting, the adventure was soon over and all he wanted to do was go home.

  An hour into the forest, a growl from his stomach reminded him that his last meal had been some time ago. Within his backpack still remained a single candy bar. Not wanting to consume the last of his food, he sighed and left it where it was, much to the loud protestations of his stomach.

  Time passed as he continued his way through the forest. The sun gradually made its descent toward the horizon. The shadows grew long. In the deepening gloom, his imagination turned the surroundings into a veritable host of frightful beasts. Every sound made him jump, every shadow contained a monster. After the sixth murderous beast bent on his destruction turned out to be an old stump overgrown by a bush, he figured the time had come to find a place to hole up for the night.

  But there was no place. All about him was nothing but trees and more trees. Sleeping upon the ground held little interest as he didn’t want to be awakened by a hungry carnivore. He turned his attention to the upper boughs and located a sturdy one forming a crook with the truck that had accessible lower branches. Climbing had never been one of his strengths, and it took several attempts before he made it off the ground. He reached the limb where he would spend his first night in this world and settled into the crook. Leaning his back against the trunk, he tried to get comfortable and failed miserably.

  The forest descended into a place of haunting shadows and mysterious noises as the night gradually deepened into darkness. Hungry, scared and exhausted, he clung to the tree. His body hurt from hundreds of scratches received from pushing through obstinate bushes all afternoon. The throbbing from his feet and ankles lent another level to his misery. Shifting position often, he simply couldn’t find any that was comfortable. It was not long before his bottom began to hurt then grow numb, which forced him to continue moving about in a fruitless attempt to alleviate his discomfort.

  In the tree scared and alone, the light gradually faded away around him. For the first time he truly knew what it meant to be alone. The intricate canopy of leaves prevented even the smallest glimmer of starlight from filtering through. He sat in the dark, with head resting against the bole of the tree and listened to the sounds of the forest. Off in the distance he heard the passage of some large creature as it made its way through the underbrush. Not long after that, from off in another direction came the sound of two animals fighting. Hoping nothing found him in his perch, he hugged the tree even harder.

  I want to go home!

  Tears of loneliness and fear rolled down his cheeks. Somehow, though long in coming, he fell asleep.

  Howrrrrrrrr!

  Startled awake, teeth chattering from the cold, James was hit with the realization that he hadn’t been having a bad dream after all. Another howl brought him fully awake. Off in the distance came the sound of a wolf pack on the hunt. With every howl, the fear that he might be found caused him to grip the tree even tighter. Face pressed tightly against the bark, his eyes darted to and fro in an attempt to pierce the shadows of the forest and see those that hunt the night. All the while he silently prayed to remain undetected.

  The darkness of the night was alleviated somewhat by slivers of moonlight that had somehow managed to breach the thick forest canopy sporadically in the distance. The sparse rays gave the forest an aura of ghostly light. Perched in his tree, James remained still and quiet while he listened to the hunting pack.

  Minutes passed and it was soon apparent that the hunt was taking them toward his tree. Fear such as he has never known sprung to life within him. Suddenly their cries altered, and became more intense, large bodies crashing through the underbrush straight toward his tree. A moment later, three dark shadows raced through the darkness not far below his feet.

  “Get away! Help Me!”

  Cries of terror from off in the distance split the night. They’re not after me! Relief at not being their target was followed quickly by shame at being glad it was someone else. For a fleeting moment he considered doing something to help, perhaps shouting for the man to climb a tree. But fear stilled his tongue. He did not want to die.

  Off in the distance, he caught sight of the man racing through a patch of moonlight. Hot on his heels, two wolves followed a split-second later

  Tears streamed down his cheeks as the man’s fearful cries for help sounded once more. A bloodcurdling scream; then the night turned deathly silent. James shook with fear and shame; fear that he might be next, shamed by his own cowardice.

  There was nothing I could do! Had I gone to help, I would have been torn to shreds as well. Getting little comfort from such selfish reasoning, he pressed his face against the bole of the tree and tried to think of home as he attempted to shut out the sound of the wolves. Sometime later, he heard the wolves howl as they raced off through the forest. As the woods grew quiet once more, he tried to keep his imagination from replaying the scene of the man’s grisly death. Sleep, when it did come, was filled with dreams of moonlight and wolves.

  The morning sun woke a very tired, cold and sore James. The events of the night before showed him that to remain in the forest would mean his death. I gotta get out of here. No more pussyfooting around, I have to cover ground before night comes!

  Making sure the forest floor held no menacing predators, he made his way from the tree. He then took care of his morning business, realizing that plant leaves were not a good substitute. His mind then turned to food, or rather his lack thereof.

  Nearby stood a bush bearing little pink berries. In his starved state, they looked delicious. Walking over, he picked one. Holding it between his fingers, the thought occurred that the berry may very well be poisonous. He contemplated his chances of survival if it was; they weren’t good, but the growling of his stomach could not be denied. Figuring one wouldn’t kill him, he put it in his mouth and bit into the firm flesh of the berry just hard enough to squirt forth a small measure of its tart juice. Not very ripe but not entirely unpleasant either. Chewing it slowly, he waited to see if there would be any unpleasant reactions. When none materialized, he swallowed.

  Picking several more of the riper ones, he wrapped them in a leaf before putting them in his backpack. If he didn’t get sick in an hour or two then he would eat the rest.

  Recalling the events of the night before, he wondered if the man killed by the wolves might have something that may be of use. James grabbed his walking stick and headed in that direction, not looking forward to what he would find. It wasn’t long before he came to a scene out of an old slasher movie. Bones littered the ground; blood was everywhere. The man’s clothing had been shredd
ed.

  Horror took hold of James as his gaze fell upon the remains of the poor guy’s jacket. The letters H-A-V-E-S… were still discernable across the remaining portion of the jacket’s back. It looked very much like a letterman’s jacket from his high school. Using the end of his walking stick he turned the torso over. Stitched in gold lettering upon the left breast was the name “Randle.”

  His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. “Oh, Seth.” Shrieking, he cried, “There was nothing I could do!” Guilt and shame at his weakness last night left him shaking and wracked with sobs. I should have done something! Would the knowledge that it was Seth being pursued by wolves made any difference? Ashamedly, he realized it wouldn’t. Coward!

  “Though there was nothing I could do for you last night, there is something I can do for you now.” With that, James grabbed a rock and dug a hole, a grave for his former classmate. It took him some time since the ground was firmly packed, but he excavated a cavity large enough. He then set about the grisly task of gathering Seth’s scattered remains and laid them in the grave. When the job was complete, James covered Seth with dirt then made a cairn of stones. Tying two sticks together with vines for a makeshift cross, he hammered it into the ground with a stone at the head of the cairn.

  Taking a moment, he said a few parting words before picking up his backpack and walking stick. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle his shaky nerves, he set out once more westward. Hopefully, he would come across this Trendle before the wolves picked up his scent. The woods no longer brought him peace as they had yesterday. Wariness and dread filled him today.

  As he forged through the unyielding brush, James thought about what it meant that Seth had been in this world too. Could he have gone to the interview just as James had? And if so, were there others? Thinking back to the newscast the night before taking that fateful trip to Commercial Ave, he realized there could be at least one other person that had passed through the door marked “Private;” a girl. Could there be still more?