Rainbow's End - Wizard (5 page)

The boy stared at Orson for
some seconds which felt like hours, and nodded then, nodded his assent. But when pulled towards the door, he jerked loose and hurried to his backpack again. With feverish fingers, and an anxious Orson looking on, he undid its buckles and straps, and delved into its insides. He pulled out a book. It was small - the size of a paperback; but thick and leather-bound and he clasped it to his chest like something infinitely precious.

‘
Now
can we go?’ Orson asked.

*

They stood in the shallow snow at the bottom of the cabin’s single step and Thomas watched the old man search the white field in front of them.

Once
, millions of years ago, it had been a large sandstone hill. But something - probably an earthquake - had broken it up; then time - that most patient of all commodities, had used the elements to wear it down. All that remained now was a sheet of bedrock: two kilometres long and a quarter wide, strewn with thousands of smaller rocks and boulders - some the size of a pea and some as big as a car. Forest surrounded it on all sides; the trees, like sleeping sentinels splashed in dusky shades of silver-green and gold, hibernating until the heat of a returning summer woke them once more.

Orson
grunted, and taking Thomas’ arm, started off in a shuffling half-run to an elevated part of the rocky flatland, a couple of hundred metres away.

They had to pick t
heir way through the snow-covered field of rocks; it took time and their progress was slow. Tessie ran ahead; she knew the urgency and turned around every few metres, with anxious little barks, hurrying them up.

The
rise was hardly a rise at all - just a couple of feet higher than the surrounding area, but different in that there were fewer loose rocks lying around. They were covered by snow, of course, but the humps they made all seemed small, none bigger than an orange. It was here Orson stopped and let go of Thomas’ arm (he’d been pulling at the boy and supporting most of his weight the last fifty metres or so). He was exhausted, but nevertheless immediately began kicking away at and lifting and hurling away  the stones that
were
visible; Tessie helped - picking up smaller rocks in her mouth and depositing them ten or so metres away before coming back for more.

Thomas stood bent over
, gasping and retching in turn, and feeling for all the world as if he were dying. He began coughing in earnest; the hurt of it ripped and tore at his throat and lungs, and had him fall to his knees and rest his burning forehead in the chilly snow.

*

The clearing-away was finished at last, and Thomas had sat down in the shallow snow, his knees drawn to his chest and his head resting against them. He still wore the clothes he had put on the previous day (with the exception of Grammy’s coat), but he was shivering and shaking with cold, his backside and legs were wet with melting snow.

Orson
was standing next to him - reminding of a small sentinel, or a lion protecting its cub - (a comparison he would have found suitable). His coat had not been buttoned, and the wind, which had become stronger since dawn, ruffled and made little circles in the shiny hair of its thick, black pelt. His feet were spread apart and both hands wrapped around his staff. It towered three feet above his head, the normally sparkling crystal at its top, now gloomy-grey. He was facing east, and muttering - his normally rasping voice - for once soft and pleading.

‘
Please shine. Please, please, please...’ The sun had by then been up for almost an hour, but the dense grey clouds had not yet allowed it through, and Orson knew their time was running out fast.

Tessie was facing west, to where the sliver of moon had been visible earlier, and when she growled and went into a crouch, Orson knew the reason. He slowly turned around, and after watching for a long minute, bent over and took Thomas’ arm, helping the boy to his feet. He pointed with his staff, and in a soft growl said, ‘There they are Thomas - there are our bad guys.’

Th
omas looked to where the staff was pointing, and then hugged himself with both arms, shivering.

They had just come out of the forest and were regrouping at its edge. It was too far away to say for sure, but Thomas thought there were about a dozen of them. They were all dressed in black - just black, and huddled together for some time before breaking up and spreading out, starting towards the now-deserted cabin in a straggly line. Orson, Thomas and Tessie stood very still, hoping that somehow, they might miss being seen. They were too far away to be heard, and the trio watched the black line slowly and silently cross the snow-covered, rock-strewn landscape; standing as still as possible, hoping…

Orson went back to p
etitioning the sun.

One of the boys - he looked like the smallest of the lot, trailed quite a bit behind the others, and it was he who first saw the silent trio in the middle of the snowy-white desert. He yelled and pointed, and the others stopped and all turned to look at Orson and company. They came together in another huddle, and then, spreading out once again, began advancing: their sole intent the capture of the young boy who stood shivering in the snow, wet and frozen and scared. And very, very confused. 

They had a definite target
now, and the group of black-clad figures came on much faster than when approaching the cabin. Several times, in fascinated silence, Thomas saw one of them fall, but they always seemed to get up unhurt. He had so many questions he wanted to ask Orson, but of course couldn’t. The old man was busy anyway: alternating between pleading with the sun and cursing the approaching figures.

Time seemed to speed up and suddenly the group was
just a hundred metres away. A taller boy, ahead of the others and obviously their leader, drew Orson’s attention, and in bitter disgust the old man spat his name: ‘Rudi!’, then added, softer - ‘little bastard.’ He started tapping his staff on the rock at his feet and after a quick look at the skies, entreated - in an almost hopeless voice - ‘Come on, Ariana, come on… Bring us some magic. Open the clouds...’

The boy halted twenty metres away. He was out of breath and stood with hands on his hips, head tilted slightly to one side, insolence on his pointy, spiteful face. He stood staring at the trio in silence, as in twos and threes his gang arrived, with hushed words, crowding in behind him. They were scavengers; quiet and waiting and staring at the smaller group with eyes like those of ferrets; looking for weakness, for an opening, for a chance to strike.

Orson spoke first, revulsion dripp
ing from his voice, ‘Well, well, well… If it isn’t Kraylle’s dogs. With a jackal to lead them.’ He sniffed then - loudly. ‘I smelt you coming Rudi.’

The boys were all very pale
, and Thomas saw their leader smart brightly crimson at the old man’s remark. He took several steps forward and pointed at Thomas. ‘We’ve come for him, Orson!’ he shouted, unnecessarily loud. ‘Kraylle wants him.’ The boy’s hair was the same dull black as his clothes, but oily and in need of a wash; his eyes were a strange yellow, like diluted mud. He took another step closer but made sure not to enter the circle cleared by the old man and the dog. Thomas noticed the crystal then: it hung from a thick silver chain around Rudi’s neck, and he felt it reach out to him: its evil cloying and almost palpable; its dark depths crawling with the murky worms of revulsion and disgust and hatred and evil.

‘
You can’t have him, I’m afraid.’ Orson looked at Thomas and gave him a wink. The boy picked up on his false bonhomie though, and saw the concern in the shadows of his bushy grey eyes.

Orson
looked at the cocky youth again. ‘I also have a boss you know,’ he said. ‘And she’d be terribly…
most
upset, if I came back without him.’ He smiled at Thomas and rested one hand on the boy’s sandy hair. The gesture - as simple as it was - made the youth feel infinitely better. Safer.

‘She might even force me into early retirement
,’ Orson added, and his snort and giggle were so unexpected that one or two of the younger boys quickly stepped back in trepidation. Orson hiccupped and then, for a few seconds was quiet, gathering his thoughts once more.

When next
he spoke, Thomas glanced up in surprise, for the old man’s voice dripped disgust (and hatred) once more. His eyes blazed with anger and his tone was dismissive - as if to a worrisome insect.

‘Go away
now, Rudi. You,’ his waving staff encompassed all of the boys, ‘pollute the air of this nice place.’ He continued - softer, but terribly dangerous. ‘Go back to the hell you came from: before I hurt you.’

There was sudden fear in
Rudi’s yellow eyes, and he backed up several paces to where his gang waited. Confidence bolstered then by the safety of numbers, he shouted again, and his voice was an angry screech, ‘There’s no sun Orson!’ He lifted his gaze and pointed, gloating: ‘And there will be none - not today.’

He turned away, and after gathering his followers around him, started
giving instructions in a voice purposely loud. ‘I want all of you to spread out again - in a half-circle. You, Andre,’ he pointed at a red-headed boy slightly taller than the others. ‘You take the left point. Gerick,’ he pointed at another, ‘you take the right.’ Gerick - a dark-haired boy almost as tall as Rudi, nodded, then mumbled something.

‘I’ll stay back here
,’ Rudi answered. A quick look at Orson put a tremor in his voice. ‘A General commands from behind his lines, not so?’ he justified. His only reply was a loud snort and a giggle from Orson, and Rudi went all red again. He gave the old man a venomous look, before turning to his gang once more.  ‘In anyway,’ he added, cupping the black crystal on its chain, ‘I have to protect the crystal, don’t I?’ Still no reply and he became all flustered, and shouting again, ‘The rest of you,’ he waved at the boys. ‘Spread out between Andre and Gerick, and when I give the word, rush in and grab him.’ He pointed a finger at Thomas.

A small figure, whose tattered
black uniform was much too big on him, asked something, and Rudi cast a spiteful look at Orson. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Hit him with a rock or something. He’s half-dead anyway.’ His grin - pointy chin and yellow teeth - reminded of an evil rat, and was directed solely at Orson. Another question from another boy, and Rudi shifted his gaze to Tessie. ‘Kill the dog,’ he said, and then added, ‘If you can catch her.’ Smirking.

The
look he received from Orson had Rudi swallow the rest of his words and take another few steps back. He avoided looking at the small group again: instead watched the black-clad boys fan out and form a wide half-circle around the cleared space occupied by Orson, Thomas and Tessie. Then - theatrically - he raised his arm and shouted, ‘When I drop my hand, you go. Kill the fossil and the dog, but get the boy and try not to hurt him.’ With a last spiteful smirk at Orson, and a sneered ‘Say goodbye, old man,’ he dropped his hand. The boys swarmed forward…

And t
he sun came out… and the air exploded. It boomed and reverberated with the sound of heavy thunder and seemed to shatter the overcast air into a million grey and silver shards. The crystal at the top of Orson’s long staff had come alive and shone and shimmered and cast a multitude of colours; Hundreds of spheres as big as dinner-plates and in every colour of the rainbow suddenly floated on the perimeter of the cleared circle, shimmering and crackling, they hovered and jumped and bumped each other, and hummed with the intensity of a large generator.

Rudi was screaming. His arms wind-milled and he was hopping around. His voice carried fear - very real fear. ‘Back!’ he screamed. ‘Get back!! You’ll be cut in half!’

Most of the boys had already stopped and were watching the dancing circles with apprehension
; but two or three - deafened by the sonic boom, were still advancing. They stopped when one - a boy of about eleven - reached out and touched a hovering red circle. It crackled and pulsed and spun in place, and he was thrown through the air like a rag doll, landing with a loud “oomph”, then rolling and stopping at Rudi’s feet, winded. With a terrified yelp he scrambled to his hands and feet, and - without waiting to regain his breath - on all fours, scuttled further away.

On the other side of the gambolling circles
stood an old man, a boy and a dog. The boy was silently gaping and the dog grinning. The old man was hiccupping and giggling and snorting… and then shouting.

‘Give my regards to Kraylle, Rudi.’ He
popped his eyes at the furious youth. ‘And tell him: never set a jackal against a lion!’

He lifted the staff a
s high as he could, but kept it vertical, then smashed it down. A shattering “crack” followed, and Thomas saw its wooden end go deep into the solid rock between Orson’s feet. The old man took the now free-standing shaft between his palms, and spun its gleaming wood; the multi-coloured circles first stretched - elongating and then moving in a big circle around the three of them; slowly at first, and then catching up with the turning crystal; then faster and faster until they formed a whirling, continuous, multi-coloured ring; then melding and suddenly a dazzling white light.