The Saga Of Peter The Woodsman

By A. Hansley Jr.

Like so many stories of myth and archetype, The Saga of Peter The Woodsman begins in the ordinary world, where brother and sister Wes and Alex are taking the bus home from school in the new country their father’s military job has brought them to.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483535937

Book preview

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PROLOGUE

There was a jolt as the school bus engine started up. Alex and Wes bolted upright, Alex from the windowpane and Wes from the seat. Confused, they stared around the bus and out the windows. Without saying a word they turned and looked at the driver. Together they sighed in relief. It was the same man who had picked them up every day for the last week or so. Wes looked at Alex and mumbled, Did we just, you know, like. He began to play with his hand, not quite sure of what to think. It all seemed so real.

For Alex the feelings were exactly the same. She sat there a moment questioning herself, afraid to say anything out of fear of seeming foolish. And then they were both astonished to discover that a new kid had joined them on the bus. Once again they looked at each other. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Alex asked.

I don’t know, what are you thinking? Wes retorted.

Suddenly the bus came to a stop. The new kid got up, turned and smiled at both of them. With a familiar, mischievous laugh he bounded from the bus and into an opening in the wall-like thicket. While waiting for him to come out the other side, they noticed two people standing on a high hill. The couple had what looked like a mule standing with them. The two kids were quite startled when, instead of a young boy, a rambunctious colt raced out of the thicket and charged up the hill to join the others. Then came the biggest surprise of all. The couple on the hill waved goodbye, turned and disappeared. Alex and Wes were left speechless and would have eventually forgotten what they could not remember had it not been for the circle aglow on Wes’ chest and Alex’s urge to do the telling. This is the story they told….

THE BEGINNING

It was a new semester in a new school, a new town, and a new country. So for Alex, short for Alexandria and her brother, Wes, who were what one might call ‘army brats’, moving to a new town was not all that unusual, but moving to an entirely different country, now that was something else.

Nevertheless, here they were both in their early teens with none of their favorite television shows to watch, there were no malls to hang out in and the nearest fast food was over fifty miles away.

You would think that going to a new country would be exciting. Not so for Alex and Wes. For the both of them, it was the low point in their lives. Wes coped by making light of the situation. He had long since gotten used to picking up and moving to new surroundings. Wes easily made new friends, whereas Alex was quite a different story. Back home she had just met some boy that she really liked and, a few weeks later, here she was thousands of miles away in a foreign county. It just isn’t fair, she mumbled to herself while the bus driver made his daily stop at the local café.

I wonder what Dad would say if I told him that our bus driver stops every day and goes to a bar? Wes asked Alex.

Alex lifted her head from the glass, looked out over the few remaining kids, hunched her shoulders and said, I don’t know. Probably something like, ‘ya know kids, we’re in a foreign country with different customs. Remember you’re not at home anymore, so adapt’.

Yes sir, Wes saluted.

The few kids that were left on the bus suddenly got up and ran into the pastry shop just a few feet away from the café. Man, that must be some good stuff for them to risk being left behind. C’mon let’s go. Wes nudged Alex with his elbow trying to get her to tag along.

Nah, you go ahead. I’m just going to sit here, Alex said.

A moment passed before she continued, Looks like a storm’s coming in.

Wes slid into the seat in front of hers, looked out the window and commented, Yeah, look how dark it is. Man, that’s one killer storm. That driver better hurry up. Wes went to the other side of the bus and looked out the window. Seeing no driver, he sat back down and watched the storm approaching.

Had he stayed erect just a few seconds longer he would have spotted a strange, shadowy figure approaching the bus from inside the café. It took a second or two before Wes and Alex knew what was going on: The hooded stranger climbed into the driver’s seat, started the bus, and proceeded to drive down the road.

Wes called out, Hey, who are you? Where’s our driver? He turned to Alex, Maybe he doesn’t speak English. I’d better go up. Wes started to move when Alex grabbed him by the arm. She had a serious look of concern on her face.

What? Wes asked.

Something’s not right, Alex answered as she turned and looked out the window. One killer storm is right, she said with her face and palms pressed against the glass pane. In the foreground, dark, ominous clouds filled with bursts of light rolled across the afternoon sky at a pace that was far too swift and unnatural.

Within seconds a deluge of rain began to pound away at the roof of the school bus and then, to her dismay, Alex noticed that they were no longer on the main road but rather on a dirt road that was leading them deeper and deeper into the dark forest.

Forget this, Wes exclaimed as he charged up out of his seat and started for the front of the bus. Meanwhile, the ride had become so rocky in the rear that Alex was forced to hold on for dear life. A severe dip in the road caused Wes to fall backwards. Undaunted, he pulled himself to his feet and started forward once again. But then another dip, and down he went a second time. Again, he got to his feet and then, to his horror, the hooded driver suddenly got up from behind the wheel of the moving bus and started walking towards the rear. All they could see of his face was two flaming red eyes aglow under the hood.

Oh my god, Alex screamed.

Wes was equally as shocked. He did not know what scared him the most: the fact that the bus seemed to be driving itself or that this blazing-eyed stranger was headed right for them. He screamed back to his sister, Alex, get out of here. Alex immediately clamored to her feet and fumbled for the emergency door but the bumpy ride prevented her from getting a firm grip.

Hurry, Wes screamed over the peal of the thunder and the pounding of the rain.

Alex was finally able to get a grip and flung the door open. The stranger was almost upon Wes when the wind, mixed with the rain and the leaves, rushed down the aisle and knocked the stranger backwards. Wes seized the opportunity, turned and started for the exit. Alex, mesmerized by the stranger, stood there pinned to the back of the bus.

After several tumultuous seconds, Wes safely reached the rear and looked out the open door. Outside, the wind howled and the rain poured down in sheets. The storm had become ferocious. Wes turned and saw that the stranger was getting way too close for comfort. He reached over and grabbed Alex, who had a fixed stare. Wes spun her around to face him.

Alex, he shouted. Get a grip.

Alex snapped out of her trance and responded, I’m okay, I’m okay.

Wes took her by the hand and shouted, Remember, tuck and roll.

Got it, Alex answered.

On three, they jumped from the moving bus. Remembering all of the tips from their military backgrounds, they both landed safely, a little ruffled and covered in mud, but nonetheless unharmed.

The bus continued at a quickened pace for a short distance and then came to a sliding halt. Wes could not believe his eyes when the evil-looking stranger leapt from the bus and headed straight for them.

Wes grabbed Alex by the arm and ran as fast as he could into the woods. The deeper they went the branches of the trees and bushes seemed to take on a life of their own, lashing out at them while they ran. While climbing to his feet after a terrible fall, Wes looked back over his shoulder for the stranger. To his chagrin, no longer was the stranger running in pursuit: Now he was flying. Wes grabbed Alex by the hand and turned into a thicket, hoping that it would slow the stranger down.

A few minutes later, exhausted, they stopped to rest. In between gasps of air Wes said, I think we lost him.

I hope you’re right, Alex answered also breathing heavily. Suddenly, there was a loud noise that startled them both.

What was that? Alex asked.

I don’t know, but I’m sure not going to stick around to find out. Come on, let’s go. Wes turned to go one way but Alex had an irresistible urge to go in another direction. What are you doing? Wes asked.

I don’t know, but I think we’re supposed to go this way, Alex answered as she turned and pointed in the opposite direction. Wes looked around, thought to himself, ‘one way’s as good as the other’, and then took off behind her.

What little light they had faded quickly, leaving the forest even darker than before. By the time they arrived at what seemed like a clearing, it was almost pitch black.

Alex was the first to notice it. Look! she said, pointing into the valley below.

I see it, Wes said, his voice full of hope.

It was a light and, because of the dark, it stood out like a star in the sky. They immediately started down the winding trail holding fast to each other lest they slip and fall. The rain had eased a bit but was still falling at a steady rate. The closer they got to the light, the more secure they began to feel. Soon they were able to see that the light was coming from a small cottage.

By the time they made it to the front door, they were both exhausted. Wes did not hesitate to knock and knock loud. Just when he was about to knock a second time, the door slowly opened. The warmth of the fire inside reached out and caressed their frigid bones. Alex and Wes, shivering from the cold, looked up and stared straight into the eyes of a large old man, who smiled at them both and immediately helped them in out of the rain.

Come, the old man said in perfect English. Come, stand by the fire. He gently guided them to the front of the fireplace. Here, let me take your coats and boots. Shivering, Alex and Wes gladly complied. I was just about to make my wife some tea. What do you say I make some for all of us and then you can tell me what brings you out on a night like this?

Wes, rubbing his hands together over the fire, answered, You wouldn’t believe it if we told you.

I don’t know, try me, the old man said while he poured the tea into four mugs. He handed one to Alex and one to Wes. They both took long sniffs of the steam rising from the cups.

Thank you, Alex said softly.

Yeah, Wes said looking up and smiling. The old man was very apologetic when he said, Will you excuse me for a minute? I must take this to my wife. Unfortunately, she is confined to the bed these days, but I’ll tell her you’re here. The old man turned and left the room.

Nice man, huh? It was Wes talking.

Yeah, real nice. Lucky for us this place is here. I don’t know what we would have done out there in the cold with that thing chasing us, Alex added.

I wonder if he has a phone? Wes queried.

No, I’m afraid I don’t. No use for them, really, the old man interjected, startling them.

Outside the storm’s intensity was increasing. Where once there was a constant patter, now it was wind-driven, causing the rain to crash into the windows.

Alex looked up from her tea and spoke to the old man. By the way, I’m Alex and this is my brother, Wes. We’d like to thank you for helping us out.

Yeah, thanks, Wes added.

You’re welcome, the old man said with a smile.

We got just one problem. It was Wes again.

Yes, and what’s that? the old man asked.

Well, its getting way past our check-in time and, like, my dad’s probably going nuts right now wondering where we are. By the way, where are we? Wes asked.

You’re in my cottage, of course, safe and out of the storm. But you were going to tell me what brings you to this valley on such a stormy night.

Wes sat down and together he and Alex began to tell of the day’s events. Once they had finished the old man just sort of stared at the fire for a moment. Then he arched his eyebrows, turned, looked at them and said, Get comfortable, there’s something I think you should hear.

The old man went over to a cabinet, opened it, and pulled a book from the top shelf. It had obviously been undisturbed for quite some time because a cloud of dust blew off of it when the man attempted to clean it.

He returned to the fire, sat down in the big chair and said to them, This is a true story from a long time ago.

True? Wes asked. How do you know it’s true if it happened a long time ago?

The old man smiled and began….

PENDRAGON

You ask me how it is that I know, and I tell you I know.

One day while walking with his trusted mule through the dense forest, Peter the woodsman came upon a spirit sitting atop a large mushroom. The spirit was engrossed in the first song of a nightingale. Ever so carefully, so as not to disturb the spirit, Peter tethered his mule to a tree, laid down his sturdy axe and crept closer to get a better look.

Peter the woodsman was a rather big, young man. He was strong and hard working and had always been known to be very level headed. Not given to believing in spirits and creatures of the air, Peter doubted if his eyes were actually seeing this lovely vision before him. Suddenly, another one appeared. They were more air than substance, a shimmering vibration whose faces, almost human, and butterfly wings quivered and sparkled in the deep blue twilight.

The young woodsman was transfixed. He stared at the tiny creatures and, mesmerized by the bird's song, began to sway in time to the music. Suddenly, he swayed just a little too far forward, lost his balance and stumbled right into the midst of the two beautiful wisps of air. Yet, instead of hitting his head on the hard ground as he had expected, he found himself falling into what seemed like a tunnel of swirling clouds. During his fall, the two spirits stayed very close to him. They, too, being pulled into the tunnel.

When the floating feeling stopped, he looked around and found, to his amazement, that he was no longer in the forest he had known all his life but in the middle of the strangest landscape he could ever have imagined. What is more, he was on all fours, his axe was gone and so was his mule. Then, two voices greeted him.

Welcome to Helicon. Excuse me, but why are you on all fours like your mule?

Although he saw no faces, he nevertheless heard the voices. Yes, he was sure of it. There were two voices lighter than air.

Peter shook his head in disbelief, but he could not shake the truth: Two voices had welcomed him to Helicon, the mount of light. Now, everyone knows that the ‘mount of light’ is sheer fantasy, stories served to children nestling around a crackling fire on some cold, full moon night.

So, instead of standing up, Peter quickly rolled over to try and catch a glimpse of whomever it was speaking to him. Alas, no one was there, only the rolling green hills and mystical skies.

Where in all the heavens am I? uttered a bemused Peter.

You are on Helicon and we haven't a moment to lose. Calliope's army of spirit guards will soon be here to investigate the comings and goings in her tunnel. If they catch us here it will not bode well at all. Come, Peter, we must go. It may already be too late.

Why should I believe anything I can't see? asked Peter. You may be just some dream I am having as a result of my fall. For all I know, I could be lying stretched out on the forest floor.

If you don't believe me, perhaps seeing your mule and axe will convince you of the truth I speak. Both are waiting for you just up ahead.

I don't know whether I believe you or not, but, if what you say is true, I guess we'd better be off.

And so, they went. What was said in the conversation that followed distressed Peter to no end. It seemed that he had stumbled into the passage that allows access to the mount of light from earthside and that his trusted mule, seeing him in peril, had freed himself and, with axe in mouth, rushed to his aid. They, too, had been pulled into the passage with him and were waiting for him up ahead.

So, here he was, Peter, the finest woodsman in all the land, following two unseen voices to heaven knows where in search of his mule and axe and, to top that off, an army of spirit guards were fast after them for something he had no control over.

How strange the fates of simple men when touched by the flames of adventure, he thought. That thought brought on a roar of laughter from him. The laughter grew and echoed thunderously, shaking the land all about them. The very loudness of the echo caused Peter to fall forward just as the two voices were about to speak. In so doing, he must have stumbled upon them, triggering the sudden appearance of one, then the other, while they vibrated back and forth, in and out of one another, sometimes making only one image.

The land about them stopped trembling almost immediately. Nothing of the sort could be said for Peter.

That's it, he whispered. I've lost my mind, for whatever reason, I have no idea, but it is obvious. Perhaps, if I just lay down right here by this painted rock, I'll fall fast asleep and, in due time, wake up refreshed and ready to do a hard day's work in the forest.

I'm afraid that is not to be, Peter. This is real, and you aren't the slightest bit crazy or hurt or dreaming on the forest floor. And, I'm sorely afraid, you've alerted the guards of Calliope, which gives us very little time. We must hurry if you are to ever see your mule and axe again, or anything for that matter.

The sound of trumpets came from far in the distance.

Come on Peter, no time for doubt, hurry, hurry.

The massive muscles of Peter's arms tensed as he pushed himself up from the rock. With a shrug of his broad shoulders, he was off in a fast trot following the two voices in one body times two. After running along for a short while, he saw his mule up ahead, grazing on the carpet of grass and beside the mule, sturdy as ever, was his axe, perched against the strangest tree he had ever seen.

Ignoring the pleas of the spirit in front of him, Peter sprinted towards his two companions waiting in a circle of brilliant yellow light. The closer his long stride took him, the more he noticed the changes in his mule and axe. Maybe it was just the run, but his heart raced more wildly with every step. Now, almost close enough to touch the light, he stopped to gaze upon the changes that had taken place. They were his two friends, for sure, only the mule was no longer a typical mule, but a magnificent steed. The brave dark eyes and the distinct star on its forehead remained the same. The saddle upon its back was such a wonderful creation that Peter was sure only the king's own craftsman could have designed it.

Next to the strange tree, and radiant as though filled to capacity with pure energy, rested his axe. Its long handle appeared to be made of gold for it shone as such. The blade was made of the most shining metal he had ever seen and was honed to a terrifyingly sharp edge. Peter reached into the light. Then came an amazing discovery! He had only to look at his axe for a second when it rose blindingly and flew into his outstretched hand. It was possessed. Peter's first thought was to cast it to the ground, but the fit and feel of the axe in his hand gave him such an exciting sense of power, he chose not to.

It was then that Mule reared and in a great show of happiness, kicked his front legs several times high into the air. Peter, with axe in hand, stepped into the golden circle to join his companion.

All at once, a great show of lights began within the circle. There was a booming sound of thunder and sharp jolts of lightning flashed about, yet stayed within the confines of the circle. Peter, himself unawares, was being transformed. When the show was over, the golden circle disappeared, leaving Peter and his companions behind. This was not Peter the woodsman, however. Gone were the woolen tunic and woven pants, and in their place fitted perfectly to his body were the finest pants and shirt, both made of leather. Shiny, black boots had taken the place of his old work shoes. A voice somewhere in his head cried out for rejection of these things, but a stronger, more forceful voice applauded and readily accepted the wonderful changes.

Still shaken, Peter did not hear the rumbling, nor see the dark cloud that traveled swiftly across the plain in his direction. It was the giggle of the two voices in one body times two that snapped him out of his bewilderment.

Peter, all is not over with yet. Look, here comes Calliope and her famed spirit guards.

Peter turned just in time to see a massive dark cloud rise up before his amazed eyes. A strong gust of wind blew and almost toppled him. The two voices whispered into his ear, The breath of the giant, it's at Calliope's command.

Like a dark and ominous tornado rising up from the plain, a spirit guard lurched forward, his stallion rearing up in front of Peter, with smoke pouring from its nostrils.

Calliope, muse of inspiration, welcomes you, Pendragon. She comes now to talk. Prepare thyself, he bellowed.

With a mighty roar of trumpets, Peter saw Calliope the golden seated before him on a glorious mount and wreathed in a shimmering glow. With a broad smile and a great show of gleaming white teeth, Calliope spoke to Peter in the most sumptuous tone he had ever heard.

You have come just in time, Pendragon.

Still in a daze, Peter replied to the mystical apparition, I'm sorry but my name is Peter and I'm just a hard-working woodsman, not this ‘pendragon’. I'm afraid you have the wrong person.

Be sure you are the pendragon. We have our friend, Dualla, to thank for bringing you here to the edge of my domain.

Surely, you must have the wrong person. I insist, I am not this ‘pendragon’, nor do I know of any Dualla.

Indeed you do. It was the two voices in one body times two. I'm Dualla.

You mean to tell me that all this time you were leading me here?

At my command, of course, said Calliope. Although the plan was entirely Dualla's, she added with a laugh. A slight smile began to show on Peter's face.

Will someone please explain to me what is going on? I am just a woodsman who has spent all his life in the forest, and now I fear that I am losing what little bit of sanity I have left.

All will be explained in due time, Pendragon, but for now, let us see how fast that steed of yours can take you. I'll wager he is speed-gifted. We will ride to my castle where you will be an honored guest, and there, I promise to tell you all there is to know.

Gesturing towards Mule, Calliope smiled warmly. Calliope's horse reared as she turned toward the plain, followed in close pursuit by her spirit guards. Mule came charging alongside Peter, anxious to join in the run.

So, you want to go charging off, do you? Well, my changeling, I guess there's nothing to keep us and I have no wish to spend the coming night out here in no man's land.

With a surprisingly easy leap he was astride Mule, axe in one hand, bridle in the other, racing to join Calliope and her spirit guards in their haste to her grand castle on Helicon.

Had they ridden for a long or short time it did not matter: The ride took them through a true wonderland. It was hard for Peter to take it all in. He saw giant dragonflies up in the colored skies, their wings spread across the wind and with what seemed to be other Duallas riding astride their backs. Peter noticed many trees of every color and shape, some so strange as to defy description.

The singing flowers were spectacular, with their one tone song ringing out when the breeze brushed by their petals. And the colors were truly marvelous: Every color of the rainbow was displayed in magnificent array.

Up ahead, the grand castle could be seen in the distance, growing larger and larger the nearer they came. Soon they were walking their mounts across the great moat bridge and into the main castle courtyard. There, a young attendant ran out to greet them. Having taken Calliope's mount, the young lad reached for the mule, who seemed not to object, although Peter was reluctant to part with him again.

Eques will take good care of your horse you name Mule, Pendragon. After all, he was a horse once himself, and still is on some mischievous nights, or so I'm told. Calliope scowled at the young attendant, then turned back to Peter wearing the warm smile he was growing to appreciate.

Though but still a boy with all a boy's mischievousness, Eques is nonetheless the finest horseman in the land. Mule will be taken good care of, I can assure you. Come, let us go and freshen ourselves. That was a long, dusty ride and there is a banquet planned in your honor. Also, for you I'm sure, a lot of questions need to be answered. A friend of yours is here to take you to your chambers.

Peter turned to see a young lady dressed in a flowing white gown. She was the most beautiful being he had seen in all his life. Walking up the long flight of stairs Calliope continued. Dualla, please show the pendragon to his room, she said, and help him get ready for the feast tonight. And please try to calm him; his mind must be on fire. If I were in his position, I know mine would be. With that, and a great peal of laughter, off went Calliope, leaving a trail of golden light in her path.

When Calliope ordered a feast, that's exactly what she meant. The large marble table was trimmed in gold leaf. Peter had never seen food so fine as that laid out before him now. The exotic fruits and sweetmeats not only tasted fit for a king, but looked the part as well. One chair, the one in which Calliope sat, resembled a throne. Three chairs on each side of her were slightly less grand but still magnificent. Peter, Dualla and several other noble guests sat on those.

The castle dwellers sat at two long tables along each side of the hall. Peter noticed the stable lad, Eques, stuffing himself with cakes and flavored creams. In the space between the two long tables, magicians performed feats of trickery beyond your wildest imaginations. But, when a young girl under a magic spell rose into the air from her place amongst the others and turned into a dove, and there before Peter’s very eyes flew out into the courtyard at the far end of the room, dropping a single white feather that floated down and landed in his lap, Peter was more than flabbergasted: He was in shock. They all could see by his sudden outburst of laughter that Peter the pendragon had at last started to feel comfortable in his new surroundings.

All of Peter's questions were being answered one by one. Yes, he had been tricked into the tunnel, but the part about Mule freeing himself and trying to save him was heart-warmingly true. He also discovered why there had been such a rush to get him to see Mule, as though making him run from danger.

Dualla, more beautiful than Helen of Troy, had been afraid that if Peter noticed he was becoming invisible after leaving the tunnel, it might have been just a bit too much for him to handle. This was why he was led so quickly to the circle of light. It was the circle that made his body visible to him whilst on the mount of light. Outside the circle he was invisible. The opposite was true for those that live on the mount of light, which also explains why spirits are hard to see earthside.

Peter had yet to discover why he had been brought to this place, but he was assured that all would be revealed by a certain Mystagog after the feast.

In the short time that he was there, Peter had grown to appreciate the graciousness of his host. During the course of the meal, several elaborately clad spirits had come before him, hailing him by his new name, Pendragon and casting goods spells upon him. Peter nodded nervously and smiled at each in turn, all the while Calliope laughed.

After they had eaten their fill and the bustle of servants had subsided, Calliope, dripping streaks of gold, got up from her throne and raised a toast to Peter the pendragon who had come in their hour of greatest need. Cheers rang through the castle, echoing throughout the land, well, most of the land anyway.

Calliope turned to Peter and spoke. I see you are enjoying yourself, Pendragon. I must say that makes me feel much better. I understand you are a woodsman earthside. So, you must be very good with an axe.

Yes, answered Peter, feeling much more relaxed after the feast and the wine. I've won a few tournaments in my time. The woodsman's trade has been in my family for generations. Why do you ask?

I'll wager I've never seen a finer axe in all my time as the one that rests beside you. Why don't you show us your skill? she replied.

Oh, no. I couldn't. The fact is I've never thrown her in the condition she's in just now. She seems possessed of a magic that I have yet to discover.

By this time the conversation had drawn the attention of everyone in the room. Peter went on, still looking at Calliope.

No, no, really I couldn't.

Dualla leaned over to his ear, You are the pendragon. They look upon you with wonder, or haven't you noticed? If they can believe in you, and each is powerful in his own right, then why can't you believe? Throw for them, Peter.

Calliope interrupted the two, Besides, what better time to learn, my friend?

Peter, looking from Dualla to Calliope, then to his trusted axe, shrugged his huge shoulders as he so often did. Taking this as a sign of agreement, the guests spontaneously rose up in a great cheer. The middle of the huge hall was immediately cleared of the last of those amazing entertainers and the remaining platters of food to make ready for the contest.

Calliope signaled her servants and a huge round target, made of solid oak, was hauled in by at least ten strong men. A white line magically appeared on the floor as if actually being painted, although Peter saw no painter. The grand target was set up about twenty feet away.

The target itself was painted in concentric circles of different colors. The outermost ring was white, inside this was a yellow ring, followed by a green one and then red nearer the center. The center itself was a black rectangle, which seemed just big enough for an axe blade to fit into.

It was not long before Peter realized who his competitors were. Peter was a big man, but something else could be said for the