Amaranth: A Tale of Magical Lands, Wizards and Adventure

By John Kellett

At thirteen years old Tom and Emily Man had long since given up believing their Grandfathers stories of the magical land of Amaranth. If you were to ask them if they believed in witches, wizards and friendly trolls they'd both say "no”. They definitely wouldn’t believe in the most terrible and horrifying of all demons, even if he was mentioned in ancient manuscripts in their own world. And if you were to then throw kidnapping, stolen paintings, bloody battles and even a spot of big green romance into the mix and tell them they’d be involved in it all, they’d begin to think you an idiot, and Emily might even tell you as much.

Ironically, as thirteen was the age of magical maturity, it was when they’d finally get to visit Amaranth - but they didn't believe. Luckily, getting to Amaranth involves being flung over the edge of a very high and very steep waterfall and believing has absolutely nothing to do with it. You can’t help but believe when you’re there. When you see it for yourself you believe everything.

Amaranth is a 75,000 word story of adventure, mystery and friendship. It describes how events in this world have reverberations in another, and addresses the emotions and feelings that children experience wherever they may be. Primarily a young adult novel it is aimed at anyone else who doesn’t believe...

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Kellett
• Release date: Aug 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476160122

John Kellett

John Kellett was born in 1972 in Wiltshire, England where he has lived ever since. His debut novel Amaranth is a tale of Magical Lands, Witches and Wizards and written on request from his daughter, Shannon.A Project Manager by day, John wrote the book over several years as well as working full time and drinking heavily in the pubs of Melksham. He describes the writing of his debut novel as a labour of love.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The lanterns flickered in the large turret room of Spellbound Hall and the air crackled and sparked as the magic coursed through it. Two men stood opposite each other, across a large bubbling pit in the centre of the stone room. Tall men; oozing power, with long, flowing, white beards and dressed in full sorcerer’s robes. They were obviously wizards - and very powerful ones at that. Their status was reflected in their names; The Great Zopia, and The Great Mirton. Anyone whose name starts with ‘The’ was pretty special, but to have ‘Great’ as well meant real importance in this magical land.

They stared at each other with disdain; wide, clear eyes not reflecting their considerable age at all. It was the first time they had been in the same room for many a month and it wasn’t a place either wanted to be, but it was a necessity on this day. They had things to agree and they had to be agreed that night. The next day was the day when they were to perform the biggest spell of their lives. A spell that would test and probably take all of their powers but, if successful, they wouldn’t need to see each other again - not for 50 years at least.

Did you speak to the Terra? Zopia asked his brother.

Yes.

And did he provide the names of the four he most trusted?

Yes. Mirton reached into his robes and produced a

yellowing piece of parchment. Zopia snatched it from him and read, nodding his approval. Each of the names listed was one he trusted implicitly, his judgement is good. We are agreed, these four and the Terra himself shall be passed the Whistler powers to help protect our land. It was the first time the wizards had agreed for considerable time.

And if a Whistler was to die then his eldest son will inherit the powers. Mirton continued.

And if they have no son?

Then the eldest male heir of the other Whistlers will receive the powers before their time.

Zopia continued the questions, I see. Does this Terra know the importance of keeping the names secret?

He knows. He doesn’t know of what we plan tomorrow but he knows how important it is their identities remain a secret and it’s a huge privilege to be asked to select them.

And how do we ensure he remains quiet?

He has not been to Amaranth for several weeks. He knows that our trust will also require sacrifice. He has agreed that he will not visit our land or contact anyone within it for fifty years at which time he is free to tell whomever he wishes. He respected my wishes and did not ask any further questions.

And who else knows these names?

No one.

Zopia dropped the parchment into the simmering pit and watched it disintegrate before his eyes. It riled his brother as he knew it would. It wasn’t Zopia’s parchment to burn he thought but he couldn’t argue, it had to be done. Mirton appeared outwardly incognizant as Zopia continued, Then tomorrow we will split the land of Amaranth as agreed. The people are ready and I am ready. Every blade of grass, every river, valley and mountain shall be equally distributed between the two lands. It will be split or duplicated to give us equal resources. And this will be the greatest spell of my life.

A spell you do not have the power to perform without me. Mirton replied, And you are forgetting that not everything will be duplicated. The gate and the dark desert is something we do not want two of. I will take the gate on my land.

Zopia eyed his brother suspiciously. Why he would propose to take the dark desert he didn’t know. With it he would inherit the beings that lived there known as the Externals. He shuddered as he thought of them but it wasn’t an offer he was going to refuse, You can take the gate with my blessing. You should go now Mirton, you will need sleep if you are able to perform your half of the spell as you are the weaker sibling.

Mirtons eyes flashed with anger at the remark, Both my strength and my powers have always been far superior to yours brother. That will be proved in fifty years when the lands re-join and you will see how my land has prospered in comparison to yours. I have no need for sleep to rejuvenate my powers, they are always strong. Come, let us perform the spell now if you think yourself capable without a nap.

Zopia threw back his head and laughed, holding his wand aloft as he began to chant. Mirton too, not wanting to be outdone by his brother, pointed his wand and began the same mutterings. The lanterns flickered more fiercely as the spells began to take hold, the ground shook and through the slits of windows in the tower, across the darkness and into the twinkling lights of the city beneath them they could hear the cries of thousands of Amaranthian folk, not expecting or knowing what was happening. As the winds whipped around the room they became more powerful, the chantings louder and the noise outside deafening as the rivers and mountains split and valleys reformed creating two identical lands. The sounds of an invisible and impenetrable barrier being raised between the two lands deafened not just the wizards but the families throughout Amaranth clinging tightly to each other as they wondered if the wizards had finally come to blows. They knew that if they had then this was the end of their world and its people. It was why they had agreed to the splitting of the lands for 50 years. Anything was better than the two most powerful beings at war which would cause devastation throughout, if the land survived at all. Most agreed two lands without powerful magic would be a much better place to live.

The wizards grew weaker as the spell neared completion and as they neared exhaustion Mirton finally slumped. It was only then that Zopia, ready to collapse himself, realised something. The Whistlers were all in his land and the gate in his brothers. How could they get to it if it called for their help? It took all his remaining strength to add just a few more words, something that wasn’t in their agreement but something he realised was necessary before he slumped too.

Zopia awoke several hours later. The old man now appeared frail as he held onto a chair to get to his feet. Well that was all a bit earlier than planned he announced rather cheerfully looking around him. But he was alone and although he’d made that statement he wasn’t really sure what was earlier than planned. He did feel quite hungry though.

In an identical castle in an identical land Mirton too awoke alone and in the reflection of a nearby cauldron he saw an old man, with white fluffy hair and a rather bemused expression. He too felt hungry.

Chapter 2

Elsewhere in the city of Amaranth, in a dark, tiny house sat a small man. The type of man that many ignored - insignificant you might say. He didn’t know why the lands had split a day earlier than planned but it made no difference to him. It would take many years for his plan to come together but he was young enough. And when it did he would be a very powerful being, not only in the land of Amaranth but in another world where people lived and went to work and school and were ruled by money. A place they called Terralte. A place where you are reading this book.

Chapter 3

Nearly fifty years later…

It was hard for most to believe that Tom and Emily Man were twins. On their thirteenth birthday, just a few days prior, one of Tom’s friends described them as the most unidentical twins in the world which was an accurate definition. From looks to personality they differed on every level; Tom short and stocky, almost bulldog shaped with a constant cheeky grin, average school grades, superb sporting abilities despite his weight and unusually large feet and an outgoing, carefree attitude. In contrast Emily; studious, quiet, tall and rake like,with an innate love of books and art, an analytical mind, a lack of any real friends or sporting ability, thick round glasses, flame red hair and a temper to match.

Apart from their lack of similarities as twins they were what people called ‘normal’ children. Sure, they both got into trouble every now and again but it wasn’t for drugs or stealing cars, it was for talking in class or not getting homework in on time in the case of Tom or for Emily’s inability to control her explosive temper.

Oh, and they also had magic blood running through their veins. But they didn’t know that...yet.

The day started fairly normally for the Man siblings but gradually got stranger.

It was at the village shop that the first strange thing happened. Nothing outrageously weird, just a feeling more than anything. Emily waited outside while Tom went in smiling away. Everyone liked Tom - even Samson Sparks the school bully didn't waste much time on him, and he bullied everyone.. You would have thought a short, fat boy with oversized feet would have been an ideal candidate for him. He grabbed what he wanted and waited for the man in front to complete his purchase of a chocolate bar and tub of talcum powder. The man was short and he hunched over his hand as he counted out payment. Tom thought it unusual for someone to be wearing a top hat these days even if it was squashed flat. The man collected up his items and left without a word leaving Tom to pay for his own and have a quick chat with the shopkeeper Ellen about his forthcoming cricket match.

Emily was leant against the wall opposite the shop when she saw the same man leaving. She too noticed his squashed black hat, but she also noted he was sporting a long black coat and hobnail boots. None of this gave Emily the strange feeling. He glanced at her for just a second and there was a flicker of something as their eyes met. Was it surprise, recognition or something else? Emily knew not what, and not knowing things frustrated her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck start to rise and goose bumps appear on her arms despite the warm sun, from just one glance. That was the strange feeling.

The door opened again and there grinning and munching was Tom, not frustrated at all and seemingly without a care in the world. She shook her head in wonder at the fact that he was eating once again and they continued their way to their Grandfathers.

Then things got stranger…and worse. Emily was thoughtful as they made their way over the babbling stream and past the ford. She was determined that on this day she was going to get answers from her Grandfather. At thirteen she was far too old to believe the stories he told them of the magical land of Amaranth but it was her Grandfathers insistence that they were true that wound her up. They had to admit his stories were good and imaginative and he could always answer any questions. That was all but two. And these were the most important questions of all; Where is it and how do you get there? Emily felt the anger begin to bubble and simmer inside her as she thought of his vague answers. She was not going to accept the Everywhere and nowhere nonsense he normally came out with and she definitely wasn’t going to accept that he couldn’t take them as he had once made a promise to a wizard!

Tom had run on ahead of his sister but instead of thundering straight through the door of the cottage as was the norm he stopped dead. The door was ajar and he could quite clearly see that things weren’t right. The table was on its side and the vase that normally sat upon it smashed on the floor. He gently pushed the door to open it further, his heart beating loudly and he could hear the tremor in his voice as he called out for his Grandfather. There was no response and slowly he edged his way into the kitchen, not sure what he’d do if an intruder was still lurking. He jumped as he heard a gasp behind him when Emily reached the door.

Call the police Em he said, trying and failing to appear authoritative and confident. Emily kicked herself as she thought of her iPhone, normally an extension of her arm sitting at home in her jacket pocket. She had chosen to wear the white dress that day of all days, not a pocket in sight - fashion over practicality was not something she normally practiced. She eased herself into the kitchen behind her brother, her height enabling her to see over his head and look round for herself. They kept close as they nervously checked out the remaining two rooms together. There was some relief as it was evident that if it was a burglary then any intruder had long since gone, but more worryingly there was no sign of their Grandfather.

Emily spotted them first, blood stains near the back door as if something, or more frighteningly someone had been dragged to it. She went to the house phone and called the police. The operator was concerned, calm and efficient. After confirming that they were alone in the house where the incident had occurred, she advised they should get home as soon as possible and that the police were on their way. Tom had already made his way into the garden and Emily looked round the cottage one more time, scanning for anything that might give her a clue as to what had happened to their Grandfather. Her keen eye and mind picked up several things straight away; there was money in a bowl on the dresser, obvious to anyone - notes too, not just coins. And Granddad’s wallet was on the shelf where he always left it when at home. Neither had been touched which meant one of two things in her mind. The burglars were either disturbed and had to run or they were looking for something specific - or someone. The wallet concerned her as well. Her Granddad never left home without it which suggested he wasn’t out with friends as she’d hoped. She looked again at the blood marks on the floor and spotted a small piece of material caught on the door. It was a material that you or I wouldn’t have recognised but Emily did. Like nothing of this world, her Granddad had pulled out a similar, different coloured version before and called it ‘Amaranthian wool.’ It practically glowed and if touched you couldn’t feel a thing. She knew better than to touch it, she would leave that for the police but she would certainly point it out to them. She knew better than to believe it was from a mystical land too. She looked around the kitchen one more time. There were photographs with Granddad as a lad along with his brother. Like Emily and Tom the two seemed to be very different in their looks. Granddad tall and strong beside his brother, short and rather weak looking, with a face that even in a black and white photo looked pale and sickly. The children had never seen the mysterious brother of their Granddad and not got much of an answer when they had asked about him except to be told he was a wrong ‘un. Their parents hadn’t offered any more information about Edward Man when they had asked either but they had heard rumours. At family occasions, where the alcohol flowed, the conversation often turned to the black sheep of the Man family when they thought the children weren’t listening. Jolly, fat Auntie Joan always loved a gossip and after several large G and T’s, when her head began to look like a beetroot with a blue rinse, she always used to bring the subject up of Edward and what had happened to him the night he disappeared many years previously. Some people had said he was living abroad, others said he had died that night in 1957 and Mrs Harkins, the old school mistress, was convinced she had seen him in the village many a time over recent years, always in the dead of night just walking through on his own. She also told of rumours of a stolen painting from Swansea and how Edward was the prime suspect and wanted by the police. Unfortunately, little of what Mrs Harkins said generally had much foundation, particularly as she sometimes thought she was a goat and eventually ended up in a mental asylum. She seemed to know Edward quite well though; they had been friends at school. When Emily asked about him she had told a story of him being a sickly child with a massive allergy to flowers like she had never seen before; she once found him writhing about on the floor in immense pain and looking decidedly off colour as she put it; she went to call an ambulance she was that worried but when she returned he had disappeared and wasn’t seen for two days. On his return he seemed to have no recollection of what had happened or where he’d been.

Emily had checked on the internet some time back and there was a painting stolen in Swansea in that year by an artist called Courbet but there was nothing to say Edward was a suspect or even in the area at that time that she could find.

Beneath the photos was that picture. The one from which all of Granddad’s stories initiated - the picture of Amaranth. Emily walked over and studied it now; a beautiful place with a large open lake, wooden jetties poking out at irregular intervals around its border, a waterfall cascading down a cliff and a forest meandering its way up a hillside in the distance. It could have been anywhere in Emily’s world if it wasn’t for the multiple suns in the clear blue sky. Nothing else seemed evident to her so she went to find her brother.

She found him in the corner of the garden and knew something was wrong straight away. His face was ashen and he looked decidedly sick.

Chapter 4

What’s wrong? Emily asked.

Tom pointed at the corner of the garden Over there he said, but don’t look.

Saying Don’t look to Emily was of course ensuring that she did look but she immediately wished she hadn’t. Again it was something that you or I wouldn’t recognise but Emily did as Tom had.

She had only heard descriptions of them before. A bird - Dodo like in looks but with four large wings. A Bobal was Amaranths answer to the carrier pigeon. Her first glimpse of a Bobal was not how she’d liked it to have been. The beautiful bird was led on its side where it had been discarded; two of its four wings were snapped and the blood was congealing round its throat where it had obviously been deliberately cut. As she felt herself turning the colour of her brother and feeling sick she realised that not only was this extremely serious, it was totally ridiculous and unbelievable. Surely her Grandfather’s stories couldn’t have been true? As she turned away once again her keen eye caught sight of something. Strapped to the bird’s leg was a container and from within she could see a piece of parchment poking out - the message the creature was trying to deliver was still intact. Being of weak stomach she pointed it out to Tom who nervously pulled it from its container, unrolled it and read aloud:

"Henry

Your book is not safe. It needs to be magically secured. Please send to me urgently

M.Potts"

Tom and his Sister looked at each other in utter disbelief. M.Potts - Madame Potts, the friendly old Amaranthian witch they had heard so much of, could this day get any more surreal?

The police are on their way said Emily.

They won’t believe a word of this.

There’s the Bobal

And a note from someone we’re going to say is a witch from a different world?

They stood in silence for a while.

They must have been looking for the book Tom. Granddad said it would be completed today and ready for our birthday present didn’t he?

Tom nodded. The book was something their Grandfather had been working on for years. ‘The Complete History of Amaranth’ was the accumulation of all the facts he had told them since they were young children. Something he said he couldn’t give them until their birthday as it contained information he’d promised not to divulge until that day. A pure work of fiction they had previously thought but something they were still looking forward to receiving.

Well we know where he kept it Tom said Let’s check if it’s there.

They made their way back to the kitchen and Tom went to the fireplace where a large black kettle hung over some still smouldering embers. He reached up the chimney where his fingers searched around for a while before settling on the iron handle he was looking for. He pulled and there was a grating sound from the other side of the room. Emily, already at the cupboard where the sound emitted saw the bottom slide open at Tom’s pull of the lever and that the contents were intact. She first pulled out two wooden boxes with named envelopes attached which she handed to her brother. And beneath them was the book.

They righted the upturned table, not thinking now that this might cause the police some problems if they ever arrived and examined what was in front of them. The boxes were obviously old but neither really noticed this, nor the unusual carvings on the side which differed slightly on each box. They were more intrigued about the slight pink haze emitting from beneath each of the lids. Tom opened his first, shortly followed by his