Magic Parcel (14 page)

Jimmy usually knew his brother quite well, and he remembered that he could be awkward and unco-operative, but this wasn't like him at all. Why was he being so off-hand and non-committal? Could it be that he was finding, at his grand old age of thirteen, that it was all a bit too much to take in and that he was feeling a bit overwhelmed by what they had experienced, or was he just a little bit embarrassed by the whole fantasy of it all? Generally, Tommy was not given to fantasy, being a sporty and a practical person, and this current attitude might be his reaction to what he usually called “airy-fairy” stuff. Jimmy realised that there would be no gain from pursuing
his
line of thought, and, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to share their experience, he decided he would have to work through it all by himself.

The following days saw Jimmy spending much more time on his own, and Tommy disappearing off “somewhere” with his mates, all of whom had been to the same school as Jimmy and had known him since he was
able
to be known. However, to them he had become almost persona non grata, probably because of Tommy's attitude, and the fact that
they
were teenagers who did not associate with anyone so young.

Jimmy spent such a long time on his own with no-one to share the experiences with, he began to internalise more of his thoughts and feelings to such an extent that he spent hours each day in sometimes deep reveries. Once here, it became increasingly difficult for his mother to cajole or even threaten him out of them. Of course, he spent much of his time mentally in Omni, where the sights, sounds and smells evoked the more exciting and adventurous periods of his recent young life.

He walked with the Wandering People under the dappling shade of the Shifting Forest, where he was happy to be confused by the ever-changing pathways and undergrowths. He even imagined that headlong fall to oblivion he almost experienced the first time he encountered Great Gaping Ghyll, taking him further and further within himself.

Sometimes he allowed his consciousness to be invaded by the living nightmare, of when Seth interrogated him endlessly in his stronghold; excruciatingly, mind-probingly frightening, but all part of the day dreaming which was in danger of taking over his life. The peril in this was for him to ‘live' in Omni so much that he would find great difficulty separating fantasy from reality, and for one so young, that
could
spell disaster.

For mum, the one redeeming feature of this interminably long summer holiday was its end, an end which promised, she hoped, a solution to Jimmy's day dreaming inattention. That game at the Last Chance saloon would come in the form of a return to school, and the care of his teacher, Mr Bolam. He had always been good for Jimmy, had Mr Bolam, keeping him from wasting his talents which, throughout his school career, might have been squandered had it not been for Mr Bolam. She hoped beyond all hope that it wouldn't be too late, and that school would be the cure for this growing concern she held.

 

“Scoggins! Jimmy Scoggins!” sighed Mr Bolam, his transparent patience allowing a tangible irritation to peek through. “
Now
where have you been? I've seen nothing but the whites of your eyes, and the inside of your eyelids since we came back from the summer holiday. Scoggins!”

The last riposte shot from his lips and struck Jimmy's eardrums like a ricocheting bullet. This time the result was startling. Jimmy Scoggins jerked his head backwards from his supporting hands, and the two chair legs he was balancing on became none, spread-eagling him on the threadbare classroom carpet tiles between his desk and Peter Chambers' in the row behind.

The ensuing uproar from his classmates brought a resigned hands-on-hips stance, and a look of capitulating resignation from his teacher.

This had been the continuation of a deep reverie, which had started mid-way through the holiday, and had interrupted frequently his every waking hour. The only peace he had from it were his hours of unconsciousness in bed, where his mind was entirely blank, or so he thought.

Constantly, the very real images of Omni, and his adventures there, infiltrated his days wherever he was, whatever he was doing. Sometimes they were wondrous, taking him to the highest pinnacles of breathless excitement. Other times, he wished they would go away and leave him alone to become an ordinary boy again. This, unfortunately, was not going to happen any time soon.

“Mr Scoggins, either pay attention to your work, my words, and this lesson, or I will send you to explain yourself to the headmaster,” Mr Bolam interrupted his thoughts again, this time with more than a little real annoyance in his tone.

It was at times such as this, and other confrontational occasions that Jimmy's hand strayed to the Senti circlet he always kept in his pocket. Touching this somehow seemed to settle his confidence, as he felt a slight surge of power course through his body. Whilst he had no desire to show defiance towards his teacher's insistence, he did feel able to weather any storm, which might gather about him.

He bowed his head and pretended to concentrate on the work in front of him, but images of his time in Omni at best flashed past his inner eye, and at worst flooded his consciousness. To his teacher, Jimmy's daydreaming, whilst an irritant and nuisance before the summer holidays, was now becoming a serious problem; a problem which would need attention sooner rather than later.

A sudden sharp pain to the side of his head just behind the ear, dredged Jimmy out of his reverie. It wasn't a Senti barb but a wet, rolled piece of paper, which stuck momentarily to his head and then slithered from his shoulder onto his book, causing a wet stain to ooze into what little writing he had accomplished. A reflex action clapped his hand to his head, drawing sniggers from two boys two rows away. Jimmy swung around to catch that evil smirk on the face of Dwayne Davis, the class bully, who had decided that it was time he paid Jimmy Scoggins some attention.

Dwayne Davis was that perennial classical bully who found delight only in causing discomfiture to those smaller than himself. Large for his age by any standard, his bulbous body was topped by a round, deeply freckled face, which was framed in bright ginger spikes, shaved close to the head above the ears. No one ever challenged him, or complained to the teachers, because they were afraid of size and consequence. Jimmy had always shied away from contact, and had stayed off Dwayne's radar, until now. Because of the constant attention he received through his inattention, Jimmy's blip had suddenly appeared on Dwayne Davis' screen.

The act of unwarranted aggression, along with a covertly shaken fist had a strange effect on Jimmy. That directionless, daydreaming mind, which, like a rudderless Senti, had drifted aimlessly on a sea of inaction, now acquired sharp focus. The fuzziness in his brain, which had plagued his every conscious hour, dissipated as the mist at noon on an early autumn day. This was behaviour no longer to be tolerated.

“OK everybody,” Mr Bolam said, “time for break. Pack everything away and line up at the door.”

The general excited hubbub of a classroom of ten year olds preparing for freedom, if only for fifteen minutes, in an otherwise busy day, was surprisingly muted. The day was bright and sunny and would allow them to run off some of that pent-up energy most children of that age possess in profusion. In the line at the door, the engine was ticking over ready for that tap on the accelerator which would allow the machine to surge into life. Fifteen minutes at full throttle would be enough to burn off some of that high octane activity, to allow them to sustain another hour and a half's physical inactivity before lunch time's next energy burst.

The bully Dwayne and his buddy Billy were at the head of the line, having shouldered their way in whilst Mr Bolam's back was turned. Billy Jones was a much smaller boy than Dwayne; shifty-looking with close-cropped black hair, who had not been any trouble in school until the middle of the previous year. This had coincided with his association with now-bosom-buddy Dwayne. Billy had suffered at the hands of bullies in his previous school, so his policy had been actively to seek out the bully in his present school, curry favour, and play a supporting if minor role. This would ensure protection both from Dwayne and from any other like-minded thugs. Their being the first out into the playground would allow them to pick off Jimmy as he emerged.

As he set foot over the threshold, a hard thwack to the back of the head from a rolled comic caught him off-balance, and pitched him forward onto his hands and knees, grazing both. Jimmy was up in an instant, to an attempted guffaw from his now childish antagonists. Expecting a follow-up, Jimmy spun on his heels, ducked under the anticipated wild swing, and delivered a sharp kick to Dwayne's knee. The result was startling, if somewhat unexpected. A tearing screech destroyed the surrounding airs, rather reminiscent of the boss Senti when Jimmy relieved it of its circlet, as Dwayne collapsed to the ground clutching his knee. Billy remained rooted, fear swimming in his eyes, expecting the same treatment.

Jimmy stood up, fists clenched, but on seeing Dwayne's demise he relaxed, straightened his back, and held both Dwayne and Billy with his eyes. The fat bully stopped squealing, and rose unsteadily to his feet. The playground noise gradually faded away, and all movement from the other children slowed as if all action had been paused. Even birds stopped in mid-flight, and smoke from nearby chimneys came to a halt. The three boys were the only ones moving in real time, as Jimmy rounded on the other two. Not a word did he utter as he engaged their minds.

“Your bullying ways
will
stop!” he commanded in a way, which left their minds in no doubt about the consequences of disobedience. As the two bullies shrank away from him, Jimmy seemed to grow in stature both mentally and physically. “From now,” Jimmy's mind continued, “you will bully no one else. If you disobey, retribution will be swift and harsh. I call on a higher power to be my witness.” His thoughts boomed in their heads, strengthening their resolve to mend their ways.

Jimmy's power waned in the same way it had waxed moments earlier, and slowly the playground once more became a playground, with youngsters darting around, completely oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded within their midst.

Although the two boys remained huddled together near the entrance to school, which is what they usually did anyway, Jimmy was nowhere to be seen.

 

Reuben sat upright in the great chair of his study, gloom gathering about him. Although still bright and piercing, his eyes were distant, as if gazing at a scene which was almost at the edge of vision. The gloom slowly deepened as storm clouds gathered above him, and a profound chill began to creep outwards from the great globe on his desk. It took only a few minutes for the gloom to envelop everything except for what had become the faintly glowing outline of one of the tapestries of Omni, and Reuben himself.

Almost imperceptibly, the confines of the room gave way to a hilltop covered in grassy heath tussocks, the chair became a fallen tree stump, and the chill had grown steadily to become a knee-deep, icy mist. It was as if Reuben had become part of the tapestry. Was it by his design? Or had he been summoned? The clouds above him gathered ominously, not for the weather they might bring, but for another different onslaught they might unleash.

Ostensibly in a trance, Reuben did not move. The slight breeze disturbed his shock of black curls only slightly, as his half-moon spectacles reflected the warm autumn sunshine. Impassive, almost dispassionate, his intense blue eyes flashed momentarily into life, displaying a depth of activity that belied his physical inactivity. Ordinary, everyday creatures within a huge radius of Reuben's hill, slowly ceased to move. Autumnal leaves stopped mid-fall. Everything became still, except for Reuben's breeze-disturbed hair. The gloom closed in until only his slightly glowing face could be seen.

“So you are here to confront me at last,” the voice grew slowly in Reuben's mind. “Do you feel you can at last challenge the Seth? What you must ask yourself is how will
your
meagre powers, such as they are, stand up to
my
powers which are limitless, and born of the very bones of this land?”

Reuben's eyes flashed, as his mind surged without saying anything.
That
surge revealed a fraction of the strength that was Reuben; a revelation, which made Seth recoil slightly, showing that Reuben's power was to be neither ignored nor dismissed.

“The upstart feels he may be able to challenge me, does he?” mocked Seth. “You, I will deal with in due time. More pressing is the young bearer of the parcel, who shall feel the full onslaught of my wrath for his temerity in meddling in affairs which do not concern him. Bear in mind that I know where I can find Master Scoggins, so that I might pay him a visit at any time, soon.”

“You will not have your way, Master of Despair,” rejoined Reuben sharply.

“You
do
possess a voice, oh leader of your band of ragamuffins and ne'er-do-wells!” Seth taunted.

“...And a voice that will resonate in your mind as it dominates all you hold dear!” snarled Reuben, dismissing Seth's rejoinder with utter contempt.

Seth was silenced and taken aback somewhat by the intensity of the riposte, which was delivered as a rapier opens up an opponent's defences.