Читать книгу Blackfire - James Daniel Eckblad - Страница 6

When Elli arrived home, she was surprised that so little time had passed since she had left for the library. She told her mother that the book was not available and that she was hoping to have several friends over for the evening, and would it be okay with her. She explained they would spend the night in her room and then go together to the library late on Sunday morning. Although surprised by the uncharacteristic request, Elli’s mother said it was okay as long as it was okay with her friends’ parents.

Elli called each of the three friends about whom she had conversed with Peterwinkle, saying it was imperative they get together, and that she would tell them about an adventure unlike any other, guaranteed.

When all four had gathered on Elli’s big bed, and the door had been shut, Elli proceeded to tell them everything that had happened to her that day at the library. There was Beatríz, a tall and lithe girl with black hair that hung in joyful waves all the way to her waist. Alex was short, especially for his age, but he was built like a middle linebacker, naturally and uncommonly strong, and sported the same buzz cut he had had since he was a small child. Jamie, as uncommonly short for his age as Alex was strong for his age, had a slight, but wiry, build, harvest blonde hair that flopped over his ears and forehead, and sad eyes—as if they were drawn that way on his face.

With their eyes and ears glued to Elli, not one of the three friends doubted in the least that something very strange had happened to her at the library, and none doubted that Elli was telling the absolute truth—or at least what she thought was the truth, which itself frightened Jamie. But no one said anything, except a few scattered and whispered “wows.” After about a minute of complete silence, Beatríz finally said, “Well, I think the least we can do is go back to the library and see what happened to you, Elli. And, then . . . if it’s all as you have described things, Elli, we can—all of us—decide, okay?” All nodded in agreement.

After a restless night of intermittent conversation and a bit of sleep, the four left the house at ten thirty, to be certain to be at the library when the doors opened at eleven.

Armed with the key and her pattern of stealth past the circulation desk and through and around the aisles of bookcases, Elli and her friends stood in complete darkness just inside the door to the basement. Without hesitation, Elli led them in single file with feeling hands and feet down the stairs on which Elli had descended the day before. Without talking, and with only the sound of whispering shoes on the smooth stone stairs, the four companions proceeded, as if out of reverence for the space or the moment. Elli, who was leading the group, watched in the blackness for any hint of light from the open doorway casting itself on the steps below. Elli worried that perhaps they had already traveled too far down the stairs; she also sensed that someone—or something—else was close by when she felt a slight and chilly breeze pass in front of her.

But then Elli saw the familiar light of the opened door below her on the steps. Elli led her friends into the room and looked for Peterwinkle at his desk. When she saw that the chair was vacant, she called for him. “Mr. Peterwinkle?”

In a moment, Peterwinkle appeared from behind a bookcase, carrying a stack of volumes. “Come in, come in,” he said warmly, as he laid the books on his desk, dusted them and himself off, and then sat in the chair, his pointed hat cocked to one side. He pushed the hat back to its proper place, chuckling, “I try to not hit my head on the hard ceiling when climbing the ladder, but the hat is not always so successful; but, better the hat than my head.” He giggled and paused awkwardly. “And,” he added, “I have the hooks on the tops of my boots to keep me from falling off the ladder. I still fall rather a lot, but at least I don’t fall very far, and I get an entirely different perspective on the books while hanging upside down!

“Well, young lady,” he said, looking at Elli, “I see you’ve returned, and with your friends. Please, sit down.” He invited them with a gesture to sit on the floor. Then, Peterwinkle himself sat on the floor and began to tell the story to all four of them, just as he had told it to Elli—and just as Elli had told it to her friends. He concluded by saying to them that it was up to Elli to decide first if she was going to accept the mission, and then up to the rest of them to decide, one by one, whether they would be joining her on this difficult and uncertain journey. The decision had to be made then and there, and the moment of decision would be irreversible when they passed through the doorway: either remaining in their world by going back up the stairs, or journeying to the land of Bairnmoor, by continuing down the dark staircase.

When Peterwinkle had finished speaking, the group remained silent for a long time, each one considering whether to turn left and go back up the stairs or to depart to the right and go down the stairs, descending further into the darkness—and the unknown.

Beatríz spoke first. “Mr. Peterwinkle, what about our parents and school?”

“From the moment you turn to the right, your absence will be timeless. You will be traveling perpendicular to time, returning, if you survive this mission, at the same moment of your departure—unless,” he interjected as an appending thought, “you decide otherwise at the moment of your return. You will simply have been to the library today, regardless of how many days or weeks and months, or even years, you will have spent in the land of Bairnmoor.”

“And if we are not successful, Mr. Peterwinkle, and . . . ” Beatríz said and paused. Then she continued, somewhat haltingly, “If we do not return, Mr. Peterwinkle, then what will happen to us here?”

“I’m afraid I am not able to answer that question, Beatríz, with any certainty, that is. I would suppose your existence here would be . . . non-existent. But, I simply don’t know.”

“Peterwinkle,” Elli said, somewhat pensively, already missing those wonderful parts of her world in which she at that moment yet lived, “I knew somehow when I left you yesterday that, regardless of how I felt or what I thought, I would be going to Bairnmoor.”

“I’m not letting Elli go alone; if she’s going, then I’m going, too,” Beatríz said.

“Me, too,” said Alex.

The three of them lowered their heads while waiting for Jamie’s answer.

“I don’t see how I can be of any value to Elli, or to the rest of you, and I have some very bad feelings about all of this, but if you are going, and you want me with you, then I guess I’m in,” said Jamie, finally.

Then, as if part of a liturgical mantra, each of the others repeated, in succession, “I want you along.”

“Well, then,” said Peterwinkle, placing his palms together, “it’s been decided. Besides each other, you will have to assist you a leather backpack from me containing some essentials. You will find in your packs a canteen of water, a week’s supply of special wheat crackers, some chocolate, and room for whatever else you may be provided by others throughout your journey.”

“Peterwinkle,” said Elli, “can you tell us anything else about the land of Bairnmoor, or how we will go about carrying out our mission?”

“Once more, I am sorry to say, I do not have answers for you. It was a long time ago when last I was there. I was but a small boy, then. I am now a very old child, and I remember very little; my memory betrays me, and so much has changed. I do know there will be those of one sort or another who will assist you, and that you will come to know who they are, including some who will likely surprise you. I have been set apart only to discover you, to tell you the story, and to send you on your way in the direction you are to go. And, oh, yes, it is imperative that you not tell anyone else about your mission, even if someone already seems to know about it. Finally, I have been set apart to thank you on behalf of the Queen and her people who do not know you, and to say, ‘Fare thee well.’” He then added, rather sadly, “It may be that I shall not be seeing you again.”

The four rose when Peterwinkle got to his feet. He went behind the bookcases from which he had appeared earlier and returned with the four promised backpacks. When Elli and her friends had put on their packs, Peterwinkle ushered them gently through the door, careful that he himself did not cross the threshold with them. He said, “Oh, I almost forgot! You must not remove the key, Elli, for you will require it to return to your world. Fare thee well.” And then he closed the door.

Once again the friends were enveloped in darkness. “Well,” said Elli quietly, “thank you, each of you, and all of you, for coming with me. I guess we should be going.” And with those words, Elli took one step down the stairs, and then suddenly stopped. She reached far back to touch the door, and, just as she suspected, it was no longer there.

And so they continued their descent, the four children in the dark, toward what they could not fathom. Each of them began the journey harboring private thoughts and emotions, feeling mutually only fear and the greatest wonder imaginable, and perhaps also a shared disbelief that this was all really happening to them, except in a dream.

They followed the hard stone steps downward in a still ever-widening spiral. After an hour or so, the balls of their feet becoming sore, they decided to stop and rest. They had rested for perhaps five minutes when all of them began to shiver. A damp and chilly wind was descending upon them from above. “We’d best be going,” said Beatríz.

“Yes, I think so, too,” replied Elli.

In the grip of heavy weariness more than just physical, they continued their descent, each one panting in rhythm to his or her own rapidly beating heart. Jamie, who was following Alex and sensed Alex’s fatigue, gasped, “Elli, I need to stop for awhile. I never thought going down a set of stairs could be so tiring.” Elli was about to agree when she noticed that the key was glowing, ever so slightly, through her shirt. “Wait. Something is changing.”

“What?” asked Jamie.

“The key . . . it’s glowing, but the light’s not coming from the key. Look. When I point it down the stairs, it glows, just a little; but it definitely glows. But when I turn it in any other direction it stops glowing. Come on—just a little further.” With each successive step, Elli could see the key glowing more brightly, although she could see no light ahead. Then, all of a sudden, Elli noticed a faint glow in the distance, almost like the pale light of the moon when it settles softly on thin wisps of clouds that hover over a marsh. “Guys, there’s light up ahead; it can’t be far. C’mon!” Elli said, feeling for the first time since meeting Peterwinkle the excitement she felt when she was first going down the stairs in search of the book of poetry.

With the light ahead of them getting brighter as they continued their descent, they were finally able to see ever-so-faintly the stairs on which they were stepping, giving them greater confidence and more energy. As they got closer to the light, Elli could see it was in fact passing through a fog that was gradually surrounding them. As the fog deepened, the light became more luminescent. Then the stairs abruptly ended, and as they stepped onto a soft surface, the fog began to lift and the light began to dim.

There, in front of them, in the middle of a forest clearing, was a fire whose flames were nearly spent, leaving behind a large mound of glowing embers. The fire was enclosed in a sort of hemispherical hut cut vertically in half and made of thin bamboo stalks. The opening was facing the staircase.

Sitting on one of several woven rugs that lay all around the fire was an elderly looking woman in layers of worn, but elegant robes. She had long and beautiful gray hair that trailed behind her to the ground and framed her face in front—a face that was undoubtedly old, but that retained distinct soft features and large open eyes reflecting the glowing embers like tiny spherical mirrors. Her small, thin-lipped mouth was smiling and relaxed.

The woman seemed not to notice Elli and her friends, or at least she provided no such indication. She sat on her knees facing the fire, the glow from which danced delicately on her face and hands. Elli was about to politely announce their presence when the woman, as if she had expected them, politely invited them to sit around the fire and warm themselves. As the children ever so quietly walked toward the fire, Elli glanced back toward the stairs and noticed that, like Peterwinkle’s door earlier, they had disappeared.

The children sat close together around the fire across from the woman. Awkward silence ensued, and then Alex, without prompting, said, “Ma’am, we ah . . .”

“Shhh, Alex!” whispered Elli, firmly. Alex left his statement hanging, half-finished. “Don’t say anything,” Elli said to the others so only they could hear her. The three friends stared at Elli, waiting for her to do or say something. She did do something—saying nothing, making her companions anxious. Finally, the woman broke the silence.

“Please tell me who you are, from where you have come, and where you are intending to go,” she said, as if beginning a polite interrogation.

“We can’t do that, Ma’am, if you please,” Elli replied, just as directly, but with a note of respect for someone older, as her mother had taught her.

“I don’t know whether it will please me or not, but just the same I want to know who you are, from where you have come, and where you are going,” the woman said, in the same tone. Elli, as if fencing with the woman, repeated her own reply, and with the same tone.

“Suppose I told you I could help you—help you go where you want to go and do whatever you are intent on doing, perhaps even ensuring both your safety and the accomplishment of your mission? And,” she added following a long pause, “what if I told you that you will surely perish if you do not answer my questions?” said the woman, her tone now unfriendly.

“What does . . . does ‘paiwish’ mean?” Alex asked Elli, keeping his voice low.

“It means to die, Alex,” Elli, said, now staring straight into the eyes of the woman who, across the fire, was staring straight at Elli. The woman slowly lifted her left hand and, immediately, out from the shadows at the edge of the clearing appeared an animal, which was growling menacingly. It was an awful looking creature, not unlike a cross between a large snake and a badger. It had a long tail that was bare of fur and coiled tightly against its body. The creature was itself perhaps eight feet in length and covered in coarse hair, and had four pairs of legs—two pairs at the front and two at the rear, with each paw having numerous thin, curled and barbed claws. The head was nearly that of the badger, except that along with its badger-like ears and deep-set beady eyes, it had a very long and pointed nose and a pair of upper tusks that folded neatly over its lower lip. Blood from a recent kill dripped from its mouth and moistened its feet. The loud growl was more than merely threatening, but the creature did not appear to be about to attack—at least, not without a further order from the woman.

Elli never expected so great a challenge, or so great a decision, at the very beginning of the long journey. She had wondered to herself all along how she would respond when faced with such a crisis. Now, she was going to find out—and find out how the others would respond, too.

Beatríz, of course, could not see the beast, but she could hear and smell it, and her imagination was more than capable of filling in the missing pieces fairly accurately. Yes, she was terrified, but she knew she couldn’t survive the journey very long without finding sustained periods of relief from the fear and the crippling effects that almost invariably accompany it. She needed to assume the worst right now, and meet it head on, defeating her fear with courage, believing either she was going to die sooner rather than certainly later—or face the real possibility of death all over again, perhaps on numerous occasions, and go through the same terror.

Beatríz could, of course, decide to plead with Elli to be compliant with the woman, out of fear and against the express instructions from Peterwinkle, and so give into fear and thereby perhaps defeat the mission at the outset—and still be killed by the beast. If she could not control the consequences of her actions, she could at least control the actions themselves, and control was what she at this moment needed most. If she could defeat her fears now, then perhaps she could defeat them from that moment forth.

A new and wonderful sense of certitude and peace came over Beatríz. “Don’t tell her, Elli.”

Jamie, in the process of scheming a way of escape, also said, “Don’t tell her, Elli.”

All Alex could think about was protecting Elli. “If you twy to make Ewi die, I wiw stop you!” Alex blurted out.

Elli gripped Alex’s knee with one hand while she fingered the key through her shirt with the other. She knew the woman had complete control of the beast. “We will not answer those questions, Ma’am,” Elli said firmly, “and thank you for the hospitality, but it is now time for us to leave.”

Elli rose to her feet slowly, but without hesitation, and the others began then to get up as well. The growling of the animal increased immediately and markedly, as if before an attack.

“Wait. Please. Sit down again, dear children,” the woman said, more warmly than even her initial invitation, as if she were suddenly someone who knew them as family for a very long time. Ever so slowly, and with the deliberateness of having chosen to do so, rather than having been coerced, Elli and her friends sat down.

“I know who you are, Elli, and where you come from, and where you are intending to go, and what you are trying to do,” the woman said, with an attempt at reassurance in her voice.

But Elli broke in, demandingly, “Then why did you deceive us?”

“I cannot apologize, for that would mean being sorry for doing what I did; yet, I do feel terribly bad for having scared you so. But,” she added quickly and with emphasis, “I needed to be absolutely certain of who you are and that you would be able to withstand the awful—and what will most certainly be the continual—pressure to answer those questions or otherwise to tell the story about which you’ve been sworn to secrecy. Had you answered me, the mission would have been lost before it had barely begun.” She then added, but only after pausing to give weight to what followed, “Did I deceive you? Under ordinary circumstances, the answer would be an unqualified yes. But since I did so not for my sake, but for yours, the answer is no.”

As soon as the woman had begun to speak, the animal became silent. While speaking, the woman raised her right hand, and the beast retreated, hind legs first, back into the concealing shadows at the edge of the clearing. “Elli,” the woman said, “my name is Hannah, and you are now in the land of Bairnmoor, once ruled by Queen Taralina. It is ruled now by the one who deposed the Queen—Sutante Bliss, under the control of the Evil One.” Hannah then went on to tell her own version of the secret story, all of which was consistent with everything Peterwinkle had told the children.

“The source of all things, the Good, has chosen you for this incomprehensibly difficult and uncertain mission through the mouth of a messenger situated between the world you left and the world in which you now find yourselves. As with Peterwinkle, I do not know how you are to release the Queen. You will need the greatest of powers to undertake such a mission, and from where those powers will come, the Good only knows.

“But, among other valuable items, I have something to give you that could assist you on your journey. It is an amulet, Elli, to protect your hand in battle; but it is also something that will help you know the truth. If, for example, you want to know whether something being said is true, whether by you or another, the amulet will begin to glow. If the bracelet does not glow, then what has been said is either false or ambiguous. Ambiguity would exist whenever there is a combination of truth and falsehood presenting itself to you. But a word of caution: The amulet will only respond if you want it to, and the answer it provides may be other than what you had thought or hoped; in addition, the answer provided by the bracelet will not direct any decisions you make regarding the answer. There may be times, then, when you will not want to know the truth, if for no other reason than because the answer will make no difference regarding either what you should do or what you otherwise may already have decided to do.”

Hannah reached out a hand containing a wide silver bracelet. Elli went to Hannah and took the bracelet and then sat down again, placing the plain but elegant item on her wrist.

“Look now at the amulet, Elli. Ask it in your heart, whether aloud or in silence, whether the words that I have spoken are true.”

Elli looked at the bracelet and asked out loud: “Are the words spoken by Hannah all true?” Immediately, the amulet began to glow softly.

“The amulet is glowing, is it not?” asked Hannah.

“Yes, it is,” replied Elli.

“You can trust the bracelet, Elli. But remember: it will respond only when you want it to.” She paused, then said, “Remember also on your journey that all things ugly are not bad and all things beautiful are not good. And, finally, do not under any circumstances tell your story to anyone.” Hannah paused again. “I will give each of you a knife. It will assist you in many ways yet unforeseen, and it can be used also as a powerful weapon—and with extraordinary power on any one occasion you desire. However, you may use your knife as a weapon with extraordinary powers on one occasion only, so you must take great care to not squander its efficacy prematurely on lesser moments when greater moments of need may be yet to come. In that moment of extraordinary need, you will simply use it with the words, ‘in the will of the Good.’ Otherwise, it will still assist you immensely in battle and in other ways. Remember, however,” Hannah said with particular emphasis, “success in battle, large or small, may not necessarily be of benefit to you. The knife will not give you the wisdom of when to use it or not in its extraordinary capacity.”

Speaking as if she had just remembered a crucial piece of information, she said, “You must do all you can to avoid being seen by those who are the enemy, because your mere presence will alert them to a great anomaly they believe will threaten their power and so raise alarm throughout the kingdom. They may not know, at least at the outset, what your mission happens to be, but they will know you are not from this land simply because you are children; there have been no children in Bairnmoor since the ascent of Sutante Bliss. Indeed, since all children and any evidence of childnessness have been destroyed at the instance of Sutante’s rule, he will want to destroy you as soon as possible, and especially so since what he considers to be only legend nevertheless refers to the prophetic coming of a child to restore the kingdom to Taralina. Regardless of whether he believes the prophecy or not, he will take no chances, and will do anything and everything in his power to bring about your destruction as quickly as possible.

“All of us must now go our separate ways, for there are forces of evil approaching nearby from the west, and they may already be aware of your presence, so prevalent are there spies serving Sutante in all parts of the country. There are a few, like me, who will assist you on your journey. Nevertheless, regardless of their friendly questioning, you must not answer the questions I have posed to you or otherwise tell your story. If they are friends who have been set apart to assist you, they will know that part of the story they require to assist you, and they will insist on no more. But, be prepared for them to test you.

“Before you depart, I want you to put on clothes I have for you, and to hide your knives behind your backs; it will be best if all whom you encounter along the way see, first, that you anticipate peace.” While saying these words, Hannah brought out from the dark interior of the hut an outfit for each child, including a knife and sheath. There were short, dark brown leather skirts for the girls and loose leather trousers for the boys, all of which to the children seemed surprisingly lightweight. She gave to each a thick, long-sleeve linen shirt the color of toasted bread and a pair of knee-high boots made from water snake skin. In addition, Hannah provided each of the girls with leggings that were both lightweight and durable, designed to keep their legs warm, even in extreme cold, and cool in the heat.

The children put on their new clothes that would blend more easily into their surroundings, sequestered their knives, and at Hannah’s request hesitantly cast their old clothes into the fire. The fire flamed brightly for a few minutes before becoming only glowing embers once more.

All that remained of their former world, apart from themselves, was the library key.

“Now, it is time for you to go, and without any further hesitation,” Hannah said.

“But, Hannah, which way do we go?” Elli asked.

“I’m afraid I do not know, dear children,” she said, rather sadly Elli thought, with her voice trailing off as if she had herself already left their presence for the depths of the darkness encircling them. And, then, as Hannah retreated into the seemingly impregnable forest, the children could just barely hear her final words. “The castle is far to the north, beyond The Mountains. Fare thee well.”