Rainbow's End - Wizard (22 page)

*****

They were in Thomas’ room and both sitting on his bed. It was Izzy’s turn to page through the album, and Thomas read Grammy’s obituary while he did. The boy finished first and sat watching the lanky Traveller’s face as he turned the pages. He saw recognition, joy, and also sadness, and when Izzy had finished he took the album from him and reopened it to the back page, then carefully inserted the neatly cut-out article into the space previously occupied by Orson’s envelope.

‘Thank you, Izzy,’
he said softly, and the older man’s hand was soft on his arm.

‘You are welcome, Thomas,’ he replied. When he left, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. ‘
Oh yes,’ he said, ‘Ariana asked me to remind you of your appointment tonight.’

*****

Orson saw him coming and got out of the hammock when Izzy crossed the bridge. He stood waiting as Izzy came up the steps; calling him an “Old Goat” and slapping him so hard between the shoulder blades, he staggered. His face turned crimson, and his wart a deep purple, but he looked inordinately pleased with himself.

They both made themselves creakily at home on the
time-worn top step, and after some companionable silence, while they stared across the stream and into the woods, Orson and Izzy began sharing memories.

Of earlier days: days with Deb
orah and Rose. They laughed together, and hid their tears and sadness from each other.

And then went inside for a drink
...

*****

She was waiting when Thomas arrived at her pool. The sun was just setting: slowly sinking below the far-off tree tops of the Petrified Forest. It gave Ariana, barefoot and in a white dress, a soft golden aura, and together they stood watching the Rainbow - just a few hundred metres away and on the other side of a line of trees - say goodnight. Its coloured pillars seemed to take on a softer, hazier shade - the orange and red becoming a thick orangey-pink; yellow got thinner; green and blue combined and became a broad light green; violet faded but stayed visible until the whole suddenly - in the blink of an eye it seemed - was gone. She smiled with pleasure and then Ariana turned to Thomas and said, ‘Let’s walk.’

They
crossed the upper bridge and followed the main stream down from the Rainbow Pool towards the Gem - and other pools; their path lit by the moon - a huge white cheese - and a million stars. Frogs were croaking, crickets tuning their instruments, a fish splashed in the Fishing pool - the music of the night.

They talked of Maggie, Ga
ry, and the other children; of Big John and Annie, of Frieda and Arnold; of Izzy and of Thomas’ two visits to Orson. Of Travelling.

They sat down on the bench next to Big John’s pool, and Ariana said, ‘So you know
… Orson told you what Travelling is and what being a Traveller is all about? What they do, and how?’

Thomas hesitated before answering. ‘Not
all of it,’ he said. ‘He just gave me an idea… About how it’s done… The crystals, the dangers.’ He was quiet for a few seconds, reflecting, then smiled. ‘I think he tried to scare me.’

Ariana nodded. ‘He did. And you should be.
’ She looked at Thomas, the dark hid her eyes. ‘Being scared is sometimes a good thing, Thomas. It makes you stop to think. It makes you careful. If you remember that, it will save your life. And those of your charges. Many times. Sometimes without you realizing it. She paused, ‘I am not saying be a coward, but a man who does not scare, is a fool. And fools die young.’

The goddess
got up. ‘Now come. We are going to a party.’

They crossed the lower bridge and could hear the singing long before they
got to Orson’s cottage. They didn’t go in, but sat on the bridge outside, swirling their feet in the water and listening to the two old Travellers sing one of Lionel Ritchie’s songs.

‘All night long,’
Orson’s croak shattered the night.

‘We’re gonna have a party, yeah,’
Izzy shrilled loudly.

‘All night long, all night, all night…’
The mix of bombastic bass and shivering soprano was frightening; followed by a lot of giggling and cackling and the clinking of glass.

18

They stood at the side of the Rainbow Pool and when Orson twirled his staff, the green beam reached out and plucked Thomas and him into the air. Gone. To North America. To Alaska...

The day before, a poor family’s cabin had blown up in an explosion caused by a gas leak. The father, a single parent, was killed instantly; his two young sons, aged seven and nine, had been out on a nearby lake, ice fishing, and only returned after being alerted by the “boom” of the explosion. Apart from their father, all of their possessions - meagre as they were - had been destroyed. Worst of all, their store of food. They were almost two hundred kilometres north and east of Fairbanks, which was a moot point really, as their only link with
it
and the rest of civilisation, a VHF radio, had also been destroyed.

They only saw other people four times a year
; just once in winter, due to the unpredictable weather - the bush pilots who delivered their groceries and other essentials, and brought them mail. They would be around in a week or two from then, not because of a scheduled delivery, but because of the father’s failure to call in his weekly report to the weather authorities, for whom he worked.

Until then, the boys would be alone, with no food or shelter. In the middle of winter, and with only a few hours
of sunlight a day. They would probably - even dressed as warmly as they were - be dead of exposure within forty-eight hours. If the wolves didn’t find them first...

Before they left, Thomas had asked Orson if they wouldn’t be too late in anyway; after all - the explosion happened the day before, and the two boys would already have been alone for more than a day.

‘No
,’ Orson’s bushy eyebrows knit together. ‘We will get there only an hour or two after the actual explosion. More important - we will still have an hour or two’s sunlight left; enough time to come back.’ He saw more questions in Thomas’ eyes and said, ‘I don’t know how it works, Thomas, but it has to do with Space-time and curves and time dilation; also the fact that we are six months ahead of the Earth in time. You’ll have to ask Big John for a proper explanation.
He’s
the physicist.’ 

Orson gave Thomas some instructions when they were getting ready to leave; Thomas was pulling on a heavy windbreaker over his already thickly layered clothes and underclothes.

‘One,’ he said. ‘Try to stay in just one colour at a time. When the colours change
, flow with them - don’t fight them. Two - spread your arms when you fly. It helps stabilize your body; stops you from twirling and getting nauseous. Spreading your legs as well is even more effective.’ He paused, possessed of a vision. ‘It can be awkward though, even painful, if you land on a slippery surface...’ Cackled.

It was only the second time that Thomas rode the rainbow, and he stared entranced at the changing colours as they literally flew through them. Orson was keeping a careful eye on him - ascertaining that the boy stayed awake and that the first time was not just a fluke. He was wearing his black fur coat again, and its tail flapped and flopped in the rushing wind.

They landed
not twenty metres from the two boys - Thomas hard, jarring his ankles and teeth. The whole surrounding landscape was covered in snow; the burnt-out smoking ruin of the cabin, an open black sore.

The boys were standing at its edge
, their arms around each other. The youngest was quietly crying; his brother simply looked stunned. Their clothes, although they seemed warm, were baggy and old, obvious hand-me-downs. Both had taken off their woollen caps, and had the same curly brown hair. Their eyes were old, and they stared at the two Travellers with surprise, but not amazement. They were too weary and miserable for that. The bigger boy gripped a rifle almost as big as himself.

Orson walked towards them with slow careful steps,
and Thomas followed a step behind. Their fur-lined boots went “krish-krish” in the snow, and their steaming breaths hung in the air for a long time. The older Traveller halted next to the brothers, and his small stature and kind eyes must have helped ease their concerns, for Thomas saw the older boy relax his grip on the rifle. Just having an adult present must have been a tremendous relief to the suddenly destitute pair. Orson stood looking at the blackened ruin for a long minute, making sure there could not possibly be any life left in it.

Then he
asked, softly, kindly: ‘Marcus, Andrew?’ Both boys looked surprised, but again, not overly so. They remained silent and Orson repeated, ‘Are you Marcus and Andrew Tanner?’

The youngest turned his tear-streaked face into his older brothers patched jacket; but the eldest
’ eyes searched Orson’s ugly face. What he saw there made him nod. ‘Yes, sir.’ he said. He leaned the rifle against his body and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes, repeated ‘Yes, sir. We are Mark and Andy. Mark and Andy Tanner.’

Orson nodded.
Then looked at the cabins burnt-out remains once more; lifted his chin and asked, kindly, ‘Your father…he’s in there?’

‘Yes. Yes, sir,’ the older boy answered, nodding towards a corner of the destroyed cabin.

Orson lowered his chin and his gaze became a glare. And suddenly logs and parts of logs, and half a smouldering wall that was left standing; and bits and pieces of blackened furniture, and black and dented pots and pans, lifted off from where they were, and began flying about and then whirling in a circle, like a mini-tornado. It scattered ash to the four winds and over the two Travellers and their charges, and then came to rest in the corner Marcus had indicated, in an eight-foot high pile. The brothers seemed to wake from their stupor at last, and stood staring at Orson and the pile of rubble in turn, open-mouthed, stupefied. The rifle left the older boy’s hands as well; snapping in two before landing on top of the pile, and he simply stared, saying nothing at all.

‘Say good bye, Mark
; Andy.’ Something in Orson’s soft voice said he understood and shared their hurt, and the two boys stood silently looking at the pile of rubble for another minute. Andy began crying again, with muted sobs.

Orson put an
arm around his shoulders, and the boy kept looking back as the Traveller led him to a relatively smooth patch of snow. Thomas took the other boy’s arm and they followed. And then - as quick and easy as that - they stood in a tight cluster and Orson slammed the tip of his staff into the ground, twirled it. The crystal flashed and sparked, and the air cracked and crackled; and they - together with a six metre circle of snow and small rocks and wood chips, were sucked into the air.

They Travelled and the Tanner
brothers slept.

*****

The Talking Rock was still warm from the sun’s heat although it had gone down more than an hour ago. The Traveller and the goddess sat swinging their feet, but only hers touched the water.

‘And?’ Ariana asked.

Orson nodded. ‘He’s a Traveller all right,’ he said.

‘Yes, but is he suitable?’

‘Of course he is,’ replied Orson. ‘He has the right blood in him, doesn’t he?’ His tone was haughty.

Ariana grinned at
his presumptuousness. ‘Does Thomas know you’re his grandfather, Orson?’ she asked.

‘
Rosie told him.’ In a gruff voice.

They sat in silence for a minute, and then Ariana reached over and squeezed the old man’s hand. ‘Is it all right then?’ she asked softly.

He nodded in the dark. ‘You can call a Gathering, Ariana,’ he said.

Part II

1
9

The night air
was balmy and smelled of peat and plants and wood smoke.
The clearing was round and thirty metres across. It lay between seven massively huge trees, some of their exposed roots two or three times as large around as a grown man’s trunk; between twenty and thirty metres high, their branches twined and twisted around and between each other’s - forming a huge, dense green and brown canopy. A large stone: circular and flat, and as shining-smooth as if machined, lay in its centre. It was a foot above ground and its circumference exactly seven point seven metres - very nearly two and a half in diameter. Close to its edge were seven small niches, the same size and half an inch deep - exactly a metre apart; in its middle a pedestal - part of the rock and just as smooth as the rest, but two feet high and wide.