Jake's War, Book Two of Wizards (13 page)

I wasn't really sure what I wanted and went up and down the line of covered dishes lifting the lid on each one in turn but taking nothing.

“Make up your mind, Jake. It's very distracting having you hovering behind me.”

I thought about suggesting that she could sit facing the trays, but thought better of it. Women have their own logic and it can be dangerous to mess with them at the best of times. I settled for hot sliced sausage and a couple of eggs and put them on my plate.

“Wizard Morrissey?”

I almost dropped the plate in surprise. Wenna had crept up behind me while I was making a selection. She'd already put more on her plate than I had on mine.

“There's a rumor that you and Urda have been back home,” she continued.

I took my plate over to Jenny and Wenna followed.

“Yes, we went back yesterday.”

Wenna's hands trembled. Something that was easy to see because the motion was accentuated by her plate, which was shaking so badly I thought she might drop some of the food.

“Was it … the same?”

That seemed a strange question, but I certainly wasn't going to tell Wenna about the wizards who had taken over. She might want to go home and who knew how the news might affect the other refugees? It was better if they didn't know. I made a mental note to ask Urda to keep quiet about it.

“We went to Urda's home in Sparse. I took her there. Her parents were terrified of her, which shows some wisdom on their part. We brought her sister Anna back with us.”

“What did you see?”

“The same horrible world I saw the last time I was there. Give it up, Wenna. No one would want to go back there and there's no going back.”

Wenna flushed and the tremble in her hands became more pronounced.

She mumbled, “Thank you, Wizard Morrissey,” and put her plate down before fleeing the room.

I stared at the dining room door as it swung shut.

“Do you have any idea what that was about?” I asked.

“You have to remember what they did to her on that world, Jake. I expect the thought of you and Urda visiting it brought back memories she's been trying to suppress.”

“It's just that sometimes Wenna seems to be full of fight and then the next minute she's running away like a frightened rabbit. I find it strange.”

Jenny looked at her empty plate with satisfaction and my full one with irritation. “Hurry up, Jake. I want you to take me to Retnor and then to my parent's house. Then you can sort out how you're going to get all our guests to the wedding. The list may expand a bit. I haven't seen Mum and Dad for days and they're bound to have added a few more names.”

“I noticed you missed the Welsh Rugby Squad.”

Jenny pouted and nicked a slice of sausage from my plate. I gave her a look.

“I'm eating for two, don't you see. Got to keep my strength up.”

“I can see you're wasting away,” I replied, stabbing down with my fork on another slice as Jenny attempted to filch it. She giggled and stole a different one.

Jenny ran to put her arms around Fluffy the instant we arrived at the Bat Cave. He leaned into her, twisting his snake-like neck to face me.

“Meep, meep.” [I hope you haven't forgotten my bowtie, Jake. I wouldn't want to be the only one improperly dressed.]

“I've thought of nothing else since we last met. It's my number one priority.”

Jenny giggled. “He doesn't lie worth a damn does he?”

Fluffy turned his head and sent a jet of flame shooting across the cavern. [He'd better not forget.]

Okay. I added one giant black bowtie to the list of impossible things I had to sort out before the wedding. Perhaps Bronwyn could do me a big favor and arrange my death before it happened. At least that way I wouldn't let anyone down.

When my dragon and my girlfriend finished smooching I hopped us to outside her parents' house.

“Not coming in, Jake? I know Dad's really eager to talk to you.”

I could almost feel her suppressed laughter. I could certainly see it in her eyes.

“I've got all those things you want me to sort out.”

“But Dad's said repeatedly how he'd like to get you alone to discuss our relationship. I can't think what he wants to say.”

“Got to be going, love. Will you use Fluffy to get back to Salice?”

“I've got a hospital appointment this afternoon, so I might spend the night in Wales.”

I heard the door being unlocked. Jenny's parents must have heard us talking.

“Okay, see you later.” I gave Jenny a quick peck on the cheek and hopped as the door began to open.

Griffiths Wood Yard has been like a second home to me. It's the only place I've worked since leaving school, that is, if you discount being the Royal Wizard of Salice. It's owned by an Englishman called Daniel Griffith, who for a long time was my only friend. I think I've become a surrogate son to him as he and his wife can't have children. I do casual labor jobs in the yard when he needs an extra pair of hands. He knows he can trust me to get the job done properly.

I climbed the outside metal stairs to the Yard's office and opened the door. Inside I found the familiar pimply face of Malcolm Jones. He does Mr. Griffith's paperwork and the two of us do not get along.

“Return of the prodigal,” Malcolm said, in a gloating voice. “I hear you got your girlfriend up the duff and have to marry her.”

“Not something that's likely to happen to you, Malcolm. Not unless you can get a hand pregnant.”

Malcolm went red in the face and stood up with his fists clenched. That was a little surprising, as I'd never credited him with that much get up and go.

The inner office door opened and Mr. Griffith walked in.

“Sit down, Malcolm. You're making the office look untidy.” Malcolm sat with poor grace and Mr. Griffith turned to me.

“Well then, look who it is. You're looking better than the last time I saw you, Jake. I visited you in the hospital many times, but I don't expect you remember.”

I did and I didn't was the honest truth. I put out my hand rather than answering him in words and he shook it firmly.

“I could have done with your help these last few months, look you. We've had a rush of orders as a result of a new housing development up on Swansea Road. Less than a week to your wedding. How are you feeling, boyo?”

Now don't get me wrong. I love and respect Mr. Griffith like he was a father, but I do wish he'd stop trying to imitate Welsh accents and expressions. It's
really
annoying.

“I'm worried, to tell you the truth. Can we go and talk somewhere private?”

Mr. Griffith led me into his office and shut the door. He sat at his desk and immediately asked me a question.

“Did you find Bronwyn? It's a bad business with that girl and no mistake. How she could do that to you, let alone her own parents, is beyond me.”

“She's still out there somewhere.” I waved my hand indicating the multiverse. Mr. Griffith knows about my powers. He knew for years without telling me or anyone else he knew so I have good reason to trust him.

“Do you think she'll come back?”

“She told me she was going to take over Salice and make us her slaves. I think she'll probably try to do it during the wedding.”

Mr. Griffith looked at me. I couldn't quite place his expression except that it seemed to be accepting, not in any way worried.

“You'll sort her out, boyo. I know it.”

“I need your help with a different problem.”

Mr. Griffith smiled. “If you need any wood for the wedding, I've got plenty in stock.”

“I was thinking of that coach you use for charity outings. And I'll need you as a chauffeur as I can't drive.”

Chapter Twenty: Road Trip

When I finished my explanation Mr. Griffith slapped his hands on his desk and grinned at me.

“Well, there's only one way to find out if you can do it or not. Come on, boyo. Let's go and give it a whirl.”

I followed in Mr. Griffith's wake as he charged though the outer office, instructing Malcolm to “mind the shop” before rushing out onto the stairs down to the yard. He kept the coach in a massive shed at the far end of his premises. The shed was filled with old machines Mr. Griffith salvaged from closing local factories over the years. “You should be ashamed of destroying your heritage,” he told me when I asked him why he bothered to store all this rubbish.

He'd bought the coach from a bus company that went bust about five years ago. I used to visit the yard after school in those days, hoping to get the odd bit of paid work out of him. I remember how proud he was of it and how it had struck me as a piece of old junk at the time. Looking at it again, I concluded I had been over generous.

The tires looked reasonable; the rest of it looked shabby and very dirty. The coach was decorated with the colors and logo of the Dragon Bus Company. The company hadn't lasted long and with a slogan like
'You'll catch fire travelling with Dragon'
it was hardly surprising.

Mr. Griffith must have sensed my hesitation because he clapped me hard on the shoulder and enthused about his vehicle.

“Never let me down since the day I bought it. I've taken old age pensioners and orphans the length and breadth of the British Isles in that bus. Well, as far as up to Edinburgh and down to Brighton, which is pretty close. She'll need a good clean before we take your guests, but I'll get Malcolm on to it.”

The thought of Malcolm doing anything approaching physical work brought a smile to my face, but some things are best done by magic. I concentrated and imagined a super carwash, and moving my hand across my line of vision I stripped all the dirt and grime from the surface of the coach. This created a bit of a dust cloud and we retreated to the door before it enveloped us.

“Or we could do that I suppose,” Mr. Griffith said when he finished coughing. Now I had the time to think about it I waved my hand and settled the dust on everything except the bus.

“There, I told you she's a beauty. She can carry up to seventy passengers at a time and there's plenty of room for luggage under the floor.”

It's amazing what a good clean can do. The coach looked pretty good, even though it still seemed like an antique.

“I'm not even sure I can do this,” I admitted. “It depends on how much iron and steel there is in the frame.”

“None at all, boyo. It's made of aluminum and plastic to save weight. Even the engine's aluminum. Makes a lot of differences to a bus company how many miles to the gallon you get.”

I looked at Mr. Griffith dubiously and he looked back at me with sincerity. I stared at the coach again and uncertainty washed over me. It was a massive vehicle.

“Even so, I've never tried to hop anything that big.”

“It wouldn't have stopped a Welsh wizard in the past.”

I've never understood the connection of Wales to wizards though you often see it in the newspapers. I'd put it down to the fact the words sounded good together.

“You mean like Merlin?”

“Merlin, shmerlin. The Welsh had the greatest wizards the world has ever known, Math, Gwydion and Arianrhod. The Children of Don, boyo. Don't you know anything about your people's history? Haven't you read the Mabinogi?”

I shook my head, not having a clue what he was going on about.

“Those stories must be true, Jake. Or you wouldn't be able to do what you can do. They were great heroes and moving a bus to another world would all be in a day's work for someone like Gwydion. He made his son a wife out of flowers, for God's sake. But you have to believe you can do it or you won't be able to.”

I shook my head again, but I felt my self-belief rising. If Mr. Griffith believed I could do it, then so could I.

“There's a coast road on the way to Salice. It's a bit rough so you'll need to keep the speed down to thirty, but I'll try to hop the bus to it.”

“I always wanted to take the coach abroad. Let's be about it then.”

We boarded the bus and I took the seat immediately behind Mr. Griffith as he eased the coach out of the shed. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“If this all goes wrong I want to be sure I can get you back, so I need to be touching you. And put your seat belt on. I'm wearing mine.”

“Nothing's going to go wrong, Jake. My wife still doesn't believe we're going to a wedding on another world. She thinks it's all some kind of joke and we'll end up in a hotel in Llandudno. Think how surprised she'll be when she finds I'm doing the driving.”

“Drive up the yard. There's nobody around and I'll hop us from here.”

Mr. Griffith put the coach noisily into gear and we began to roll forward and quickly picked up speed. When I hopped Jenny and Fluffy I imagined a bubble covering us and that's what I did now. I created a field of magic covering the bus and then I hopped.

We were spinning out of control. Without the seat belts holding us down, we would both have been splattered across the inside of the bus. As it was, I was close to losing my breakfast.

“Steering wheel does nothing!” Mr. Griffith shouted. There was no need to shout as there weren't any sounds except for the creaking of our seats as they took the strain.

In front of the coach was grey mist. We were in hop-space and travelling at incredible speed. I could sense universes sliding by us, but they shot by so fast it was impossible to pick one to land in. I extended my magic and the coach stopped spinning, though it rocked from side to side as we went through the thicker mist clouds.

Mr. Griffith wiped his face with a handkerchief and stared out into the darkness.

“I take it this isn't Salice, boyo?”

“This is hop-space. Those clouds are filled with universes. The specs of light inside them are galaxies.”

“We're a long way from Kansas then?”

“I don't know what happened. I have to stop us on a world before we get too far from home and they're all going by so fast I don't have time to pick one.”

I was feeling panicked to tell you the truth and my heart raced. I wanted to scream.

Mr. Griffith undid his seat belt and sat on the chair beside mine. He put an arm across my shoulder.