Rainbow's End - Wizard (24 page)

*

‘Who sponsors this boy?’ Joshi’s voice sang and Thomas jumped.

‘I do.’ This from
Orson, who unconsciously pulled in his little paunch, squared his shoulders, and pushed out his chest. He rested both of his hands on Thomas’ head.

A ball of fire
: the size of a large orange, and crackling with white-hot heat, appeared five or six metres above the circle.

‘
And I,’ Izzy spoke up. The crowd whispered excitedly amongst themselves. It would be the first time ever a novice-Traveller would be sponsored by two adepts. The lanky Traveller stepped onto the platform and moved in behind Thomas. He put his hands on top of Orson’s and another ball of fire appeared, floating above, next to the first.

‘
And who protects this boy?’ Joshi sang out.

‘I do.’
Ariana said, and her hands joined those of her two Travellers. A third fireball joined the others.

Joshi lifted his eyes to the three floating balls and stretched his arms wide
, palms facing up.

‘Then let it be!’ he shouted
; his normally soft and beautiful voice, like a clap of thunder.

One of the fire
balls fell out of the air and scattered sparks as it hit the first unlit pile of stacked wood - its white-hot heat instantly igniting it and sending huge flames licking skyward. An orange beam pulsed through the first dormant crystal; it turned the light at the centre of the rock, a deep, murky colour.

‘Let it be!’
he shouted again, and the second ball fell from the sky, igniting the waiting wood in a ball of sparks and flame. The crystal in front of the fire projected a triangle of deep-green colour towards the platform centre, bathing Ariana, Orson, Izzy and Thomas in an unworldly, luminous, olive-green beige.

‘Let it be!’ Joshi shouted the third time. The last ball plunged out of the air and with a crackle
of white sparks and a “whoosh!” that sucked the air from around it, ignited the last pile of wood. The final beam of light was violet. It took a few long, drawn out seconds, but the brownish-green haze that surrounded the goddess and the two Travellers, and the Traveller-to-be, swirled in a pattern not unlike dust motes; seeming to get lighter in colour by stages - fading to lime-green and then a very light-brown; then yellow - fading to creamy-white; and then, finally, just white.

Thomas felt as if he w
as sitting in a bottle of milk - without the wet and the cold, and then the three pairs of hands moved on his head - covering its fore and its sides, and its back and its top. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ariana close hers, and he heard, but couldn’t see Joshi bring his hands together in a resounding clap. He shouted - “Now!” into the night sky.

The rock beneath him shook and Thomas’
body went limp, but six hands supported him tenderly between them - stopped him from falling.

A brilliantly
white, seven-sided pillar of light shot skywards, physically bursting through the thick foliage high overhead, and causing a mass of falling leaves. It climbed many kilometres into the star-strewn skies, and carried the image of a sitting Thomas, and the three adults surrounding him, like a photograph at its front.

And two Travellers and a goddess
, remembered and re-experienced a million things: acts, experiences, people, places, pictures, phrases, books, words, songs, languages; adventures, dangers, bits and pieces of wisdom; of do’s and don’ts, and what was and is and will be… Their hands moved on his head and they shared and gave it to the mind of young Thomas Ross.

*****

The hulking figure lounging in the chair of ice stirred, and then his black eyes flew open. He stood in a flurry of snow-white robes, his face a grotesque mask of fury. He screamed his anger and his hate at the cold dark walls of his castle, and the image he had perceived.

In another passage in the same castle - in a room of his own and in a bed of his own, under clean blankets and fed, as close to content as he had ever been, lay Bryan Stone. He burrowed deeper into the warmth of his covers, lay listening
in awe to his new master’s frenzied screams of ancient anger, and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

20

It was cold. Very cold.
And Thomas had trouble breathing the thin air. But the view was worth it. The Tibetans called it Chomo Lungma. It meant “goddess mother”. Its common name was Mount Everest, and he and Orson sat on its highest tip. Before and around them stretched the Himalaya’s, the highest mountain range on the Earth. More than thirty of its peaks rose more than seven and a half kilometres into the sky, and many were visible to the two Travellers.

Orson unwrapped the scarf from around his face. ‘We slept here once,’ he said. ‘It was the coldest night of my life
... but Rose wanted to see the sun rise from the tip of Everest. And what Rose wanted - well... We brought a tent and little foldup beds, and sleeping bags and piles of blankets; thermos flasks of coffee and soup. It didn’t help much, but,’ and Orson smiled wryly, ‘she saw her sunrise.’ He said - softer: ‘The gods alone know what would have happened if there was cloud the next day and the sun invisible - if we couldn’t leave. We would certainly have died.’

They sat looking at the view for a minute
, and Thomas was struck by the total silence. The wind was slight, but high enough and cold enough to freeze in; the sun very sharp - unnaturally bright on the brilliant white of the surrounding peaks.

‘Did you love her very much, Orson
?’ Thomas looked away - embarrassed by his own question.

‘She was my life
,’ the old man answered, simply and with a small shrug.

They stood
and he punched the tip of his staff into the snow. They Travelled.

*

They were standing in the prow of a massive oil tanker. It was three or four football fields in length, and below them, its bow curved a huge wave out of the ocean.

‘Remember,’ said Orson. ‘I
f you miss and land in the sea - or a dam, or a river - you drown. And even if you manage to use your crystal, the water around you will be sucked up as well; you will be surrounded by millions of litres of it, and you will drown while you travel... Worse still - by the time it gets dark and the rainbow disappears, Rainbow’s End will have been flooded and will be no more. You will have destroyed it. As well as everyone living there.’ He gestured at the lumps of snow scattered around them; it had come with them from Everest, and now lay melting on the steel underfoot. ‘Water,’ he continued, stooping to pick up a small stone, which he tossed far out into the sea, ‘unlike rocks and snow, is liquid, and the void created by the millions of litres sucked into the atmosphere, will simply be replaced by more, which in turn will be sucked up, continuously, until the sun goes down. Until the rainbow fades away...’

There
came a distant shout and they turned around. A small figure stood on the ships bridge, pointing to them and waving like mad. The staff slammed down. They Travelled.

*

They were in Giza - sitting on the very top of the Great Pyramid of Khufu. The Great Sphinx and the Pyramid of Khafre lay to the south. It was the biggest single structure ever erected on the Earth, said Orson. Almost a hundred and fifty metres high and built with two and a half million blocks of stone; each weighing two and a half tonnes.

‘Orson?’

‘Mm mmh?’

‘Why do we honour the dark?’

The old Traveller’s look was serious. ‘It’s one of the Universal Elements, innit? Part of life.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Everything needs rest, Thomas. Plants, animals, humans, the soil. Dark is when they do it. Without it, there would
be
no life - everything would be scorched to a cinder.’ He sighed. ‘And isn’t it beautiful too?’ he asked. ‘Think of the moon and the stars; of Ariana’s symphony.’

Several shouts and the sharp sound of a whistle blowing came from
a crowd of tourists far below - pointing at them. They got to their feet and the staff slammed a small hole into the ancient stone. They Travelled.

*

It was a Sunday and the logging-operation closed for the day. Most of the workers had gone to bars and taverns in the nearby town; others to see their families. ‘Ten thousand hectares a day,’ said Orson. ‘That’s the rate at which man is destroying the Earth’s rainforests. Because of greed; his insatiable need for luxuries.’

He glared, and a
huge log - twenty metres long and four in diameter, one of a pile of six, rose slowly into the air, and like the blades on a helicopter, began rotating. It must have weighed many, many tonnes, and Thomas stood gaping as it picked up speed; whirling faster and faster, and creating wind that approached hurricane proportions. And then flew off… Spinning and slamming and wrecking and reducing to matchsticks, a dozen prefabricated buildings: offices and sleeping quarters… Speed undiminished, continued on its way, and smashed and crashed and tore into a bulldozer and three huge lorries parked in a fenced enclosure, causing Thomas to put his hands over his ears.

‘One of the pleasures of this job,’ said Orson, and there was a mad light in his grey eyes.

Thomas goggled. ‘Can I also…?’

The old man smiled. ‘Eventually, yes
. Patience, Thomas.’

They Travelled.

*****

‘The
Seven Crystals,’ said Joshi, ‘are the seven colours of the rainbow. As you have seen. They represent the Universal Symbols - as you have heard at your initiation.’

Thomas, Ariana and the
Magari were sitting on the Talking Rock - Joshi on the boy’s left, Ariana on his right. The frogs and the crickets were doing their thing, and the moon looked like a huge silver wheel, full of the grey-blue shadows of craters and holes. On the other side of the pool, strings of fireflies clung to dangling fern fronds, making wonder-wands of light that swayed slowly in the breeze and current.

‘Each colour also represents a level of strength… of expertise, I suppose you could call it.’ The ancient “Keeper of the Keys” melodious voice
turned stern. ‘They are
all
to be handled with; all to be
treated
with, the utmost care. The utmost respect. They can save your life, and those of others, and probably will.’ He paused. ‘They can also help you destroy…’ Joshi’s voice took on a disapproving tone, ‘as you’ve seen Orson do.’

Thomas nodded and Ariana spoke up.

‘Orson is very headstrong, Thomas. He has a mind of his own, and once it has been made up, nothing and nobody will change it. He takes his time, but once he’s come to a decision, it is final.’ She reached across Thomas’ front, and put her hand over Joshi’s small ones, which lay in his lap. ‘So does Joshi… He also has a mind of his own, I mean. He does not agree with some of the things Orson does - some of the methods he uses.’ She smiled, and then continued, ‘Keep in mind that the Magari - the race from which Joshi comes - had…
has
a very different way of life, Thomas. A very different
view
of life. Joshi is against any sort of violence, any violent act: be it against man or machine. He is very idealistic.’ She squeezed the hairy little man’s hand and gave a soft laugh. ‘Orson on the other hand, is more realistic. At least that is what
he
will tell you. No matter. After a hundred Earth years of Travelling he’s entitled to his views. He has enough experience to justify them.’ She was silent for a long minute, then said, ‘I will take no sides. No two beings are the same. Joshi is my Ghandi; Orson my Napoleon. And I love them both.’ She looked at Joshi again and the old Magari turned his face away.

A minute later he said
, softly, ‘You humble me, my queen.’

‘I do not mean to, Joshi,’ Ariana replied, and reaching
past Thomas again, squeezed his hands a second time.

The last of the
Magari nodded, and then looked up at Thomas, who was two heads taller than him. He almost imagined that he could see the green of the boy’s eyes in the moonlit dark. He took a pouch from one of his white robe’s wide sleeves. ‘This is for you, Thomas.’

The pouch was of leather
, and when Thomas opened it, its contents wrapped in velvet. A small ball of fire, the size of an orange, appeared above Joshi’s turned-up hand. He blew softly on it, and it moved to Thomas and hovered in front of him, casting a small spotlight on his lap. He rolled open the velvet, and inside, a crystal sparkled, its core an elusive red in the flickering light.