Chapter 3. The Journey Begins
It was going to be an adventure, a real adventure.
‘I want you three to go out and search for whatever is harming the flowers. Three is a powerful magic number,’ said Aylwin solemnly. ‘I cannot go with you or the flowers here will die, but I will be able to watch your journey through my crystal ball. I will send Caleb with you as your guide and protector,’ he added and Caleb gave a modest cough.
‘But what do you think we will find?’ asked Sharon anxiously. ‘Will it be dangerous?’
‘There will be danger for all of you,’ answered Aylwin. ‘You must each face the danger when it arises and use your own talent to overcome it.’
‘Are you going to give us magic things to help us?’ asked Mark hopefully. ‘You know, enchanted food that never runs out and invisible rings so we can escape from danger. And swords that seek out and kill enemies.'
Sharon shuddered.
‘I certainly don’t want a sword’, she stated firmly, ‘and Paul is far too young for one.’
Paul looked mutinous at this.
‘Dear me, no. I will give you nothing but a warm cloak each to wear. You may only take with you the things you brought into Amaranthi,’ answered the wizard. ‘Show me what you have.’
The children emptied their pockets. Mark had a broken pencil, an empty bubblegum packet and the torch he had won at the fair. Sharon had a clean handkerchief and her bottle of perfume. Paul had a bag of chocolates.
‘Hope we won’t be long on this adventure,’ muttered Mark. ‘Those chocolates are not going to last long as food.’
Aylwin looked pleased at what he saw. He told the children he was going to give them directions for their journey that they must not forget or disobey.
‘Remember this always,’ he said sternly, ‘if you don’t follow the directions, your journey will be longer. Now here is what you will do. Travel until you reach the river, then cross it.’
‘How?’ interrupted Mark.
‘Sh,’ said Aylwin crossly. ‘When you have crossed it,’ he continued, looking hard at Mark, ‘make for the two tall trees. Pass between them and continue to the black rock. From there head for the forest and follow your nose.’
Paul was rather bewildered by the instructions but he repeated them with the others until they all knew them by heart. Aylwin clapped his hands and three neatly folded cloaks appeared on the table in front of him. Sharon was very disappointed with her cloak. She hoped for something in a soft, richly coloured velvet, with gold or silver embroidery. Instead, all the cloaks were a peculiar shade of grey brown. They were made of thick serviceable fabric and smelt faintly of sheep.
‘Baa,’ whispered Mark to Sharon as he put his on. Sharon promptly started giggling and tried to look suitably grown-up and responsible as they joined Caleb by the gateway.
‘Now you must be off,’ said Aylwin. ‘Remember what I said and above all do not separate, always keep together. Good luck.’ He waved and the children left the garden and started on their journey.
Caleb led the way across a large barren plain. The ground was dry and sandy beneath their feet and made a crunchy sound as they walked across it. The cloaks were heavy and prickly and flapped annoyingly round their ankles. At first they all felt hot and uncomfortable, but soon a cold wind swirled around them. The children pulled their cloaks tightly around them and trudged with bowed heads after the bounding dog.
Ahead in the distance was a long line of cliffs, standing tall and dark against the sky.
‘How far do we have to go?’ asked Paul.
When Caleb replied, ‘Over the cliffs’, Paul immediately put on a piteous look.
‘I’m tired,’ he said with a sniff.
‘Paul, you can’t be,’ said Sharon accusingly. ‘We’ve only just started.’
‘Ignore him,’ said Mark. ‘He’ll stop complaining if we don’t pay any attention to him.’
‘I’m tired,’ Paul repeated stubbornly and looked as if he was about to burst into tears.
Mark and Sharon looked at each other despairingly.
‘I guess I’ll have to carry him,’ sighed Mark in disgust.
Caleb stepped in front of Paul.
‘You may ride on my back,’ he offered.
Paul climbed up smugly and felt very proud of himself.
They set off once more, with Paul calling, ‘Gee up, horsie,’ to Caleb.
That annoyed the dog considerably, but he kept a dignified silence. The wind dropped but it was still cold. The only things to be seen apart from the cliffs were occasional outcrops of rock.
After they passed the twentieth patch of rocks, which looked like all the others, Mark became bored. All he could see was rock and the line of cliffs in the distance did not seem to be getting any closer. He was feeling hungry again and his feet seemed to be marching in time to his thoughts.
‘Crunch, crunch, I want some lunch,’ Mark muttered to himself. He tried counting steps but after two thousand eight hundred and two he lost interest. ‘This is a poor sort of magic land if you ask me,’ he said to Sharon. ‘Why couldn’t Aylwin have given us a magic carpet so we didn’t have to walk all this way? Even one of those chairs would have done.’
‘The chairs cannot leave Aylwin’s house,’ said Caleb somberly. ‘He has only enough magic to reach a short distance.’
Sharon thought about the wizard’s house and wished she was still there. She wished they were still riding around on the soft clouds. She wished she was riding on the pink chair, even though it moved in a series of stiff hops. She wished she was riding something, anything, instead of walking over this dull plain. She could feel a blister starting on her left heel and the continual wind was making her face cold and dry. She was worrying about how long the journey would take and wondering if they had agreed to it too hastily.
Paul was bored as well. He had amused himself for a while by trying to waggle his ears as Aylwin had done. To his frustration he could not do it. All he could manage was to pull his ears with his hands to make them move and now they were rather sore.
‘Are we nearly there,’ he whined.
‘No we are not. Be quiet,’ said Mark savagely, glad of any excuse to break the monotony.
‘This isn’t very interesting. There’s nothing to see. Someone tell me a story,’ Paul demanded.
‘I’ll tell you a story if you sit quietly,’ said Sharon. ‘Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess.’
‘Not that sort of story,’ said Paul promptly.
‘He’s right,’ agreed Mark. ‘We all know the ending already. A handsome prince is going to fight a monster or climb a wall of thorns and rescue the princess. And he’ll probably kiss her,’ he added with loathing.
Sharon looked hurt.
‘I was only trying to help,’ she protested. ‘I like that sort of story. What’s wrong with the prince rescuing her anyway?’
‘Those princesses are all half-witted,’ Mark replied scornfully. ‘They sit in their towers wittering about how helpless they are. Any girl with a bit of sense would not get herself into that situation in the first place.’
‘You tell a story then if you’re so full of bright ideas,’ said Sharon, and with her nose in the air she strode on ahead ignoring her brothers.
‘Tell me a story Mark,’ nagged Paul.
‘I can’t think of any stories,’ admitted Mark. ‘Anyway, you wouldn’t like my stories. They are full of murders and blood and guns,’ he improvised wildly.
‘Yes I would. I like blood. As long as it’s not mine,’ replied Paul indignantly. He gave Caleb a kick as he spoke and the dog winced.
‘I will tell you a story if you walk by yourself,’ he said.
‘What sort of story?’ asked Paul as he clambered to the ground.
‘Please, tell us about your life,’ suggested Mark, who thought anything would be better than this dull walking.
Caleb coughed modestly.
‘I hardly think my life would be interesting fo
r you,’ he said gruffly.
‘Please,’ begged Paul.
‘Oh, very well then, if you insist,’ said Caleb hastily. ‘Let me see, where shall I start. Ah yes, listen carefully now.’