Chessboard of Darkness

By Doug Lewars

A soul severed in two. A terrorist plot. Two children – together they comprise a power that might someday destroy the might of Stasis and bring down the Dark Lord. But the power of darkness is subtle and ever seeks to corrupt the two. Drawn together, they find themselves caught up in a kidnapping along with others and become hostages in a terrorist plot aimed at the heart of western society. There are wheels within wheels as people and events are manipulated like pawns on a chessboard – one in which the fate of all things hangs in the balance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Doug Lewars
• Release date: Mar 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463881071

Doug Lewars

Although not quite over-the-hill, Doug is certainly approaching the summit. He lives in Etobicoke which is a polite way of saying West Toronto. When not exercising such creative talents as he may possess, Doug may be found gardening or out somewhere fishing. He comes with a large bald spot, a dark sense of humour, and a fondness for chocolate eclairs – or chocolate anything actually.

Book preview

Chessboard of Darkness

By

Doug Lewars

Published by Doug Lewars at Smashwords

Copyright: 2018 by Doug Lewars – All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, events, incidents and organizations in this book are the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.

This book is dedicated to those individuals with whom I attended high school at good old BCI. You are long gone from my life but I remember you all fondly.

Table of Contents

Recap

Chapter 1 – A New Situation

Chapter 2 – Someone from Away

Chapter 3 – A New Recruit

Chapter 4 – Counterpoint

Chapter 5 – A Drive in the Country

Chapter 6 - Magic For Beginners

Chapter 7 – Getting Serious

Chapter 8 – Big Fish Little Fish

Chapter 9 – Orthodoxy of a Cult

Chapter 10 – Towards the Tenth Day of the Tenth Month

Chapter 11 – Monday October Tenth – Morning and Afternoon

Chapter 12 – Monday October Tenth – Afternoon and Evening

Chapter 13 – Actions and Reactions

Chapter 14 – The First Cut

Chapter 15 – A Gruesome Delivery

Chapter 16 – At The Orphanage

Chapter 17 – Sacrifice

Chapter 18 – Scattering

Chapter 19 – Aftermath

Odds n’Ends

Recap

All living souls and most energy from the multiverse were imprisoned in the Grid until a freak accident released a number of souls and sufficient energy to populate a dimension. Energy coalesced into matter. Stars and planets formed. Life evolved under various conditions and in various locations. Throughout all this the Dark Lord endeavoured to repair the damage and direct life and energy back into the timelessness of Stasis encapsulated within the Grid.

An individual from a far planet sacrificed his chance to move on to save the life of a companion on a distant battlefield and was dragged by the soul stealers into the dark domain; but, unlike those for whom despair eventually directed them into the Grid, this one could not be contained by the whips and flames of illusion. Instead he rose from the dimension leaving behind the one and only thing the Dark Lord feared – hope.

But the Guardians persuaded him to return to the living in order to reduce the untold suffering that would be unleashed upon all life should it be realized that through hope, the destruction of Stasis was inevitable and he chose to comply. Yet the Dark Lord was cunning. Plans were formulated. Traps were laid and the entity, known only as The Wraith was captured – almost. For as the soul flew through the dimensions to reincarnate in a new body, it split. One half went to the child chosen by the Dark Lord. But the other went … somewhere.

A hunt was mounted and the minions of Darkness searched high and low for the child bearing the half-soul that had escaped; and, in the end, a Guardian was killed, a family – mother, father and son – lay dead amidst the smoking ruins of their home.

The parents controlled by the Dark Lord were Deirdre and Sebastian Hollerinth. Sebastian was the owner of an Import and Export business which was sufficiently successful to generate considerable wealth; however, they wanted more so they came up with a second business, which, while not strictly within the bounds of the law, had the potential to make them very wealthy indeed. It involved first setting up a charity to care for children orphaned by either war or natural disaster. It also involved establishing organ-transplant clinics that catered to the very rich. The source of the organs was the orphanage. The actual source of children entering the orphanage was the slave trade.

Part of the planning necessitated a trip to Namibia where an attack on Deirdre was witnessed by Lioni Amadhits a small time shaman who was hugely impressed when Deirdre summoned a creature of magic to save herself.

Deirdre and Sebastian returned to Canada to continue with their business never knowing that they had been observed, but Lioni swore to track down this apparently powerful magician and either beg, or force Deirdre to teach her the magic.

Chapter 1 – A New Situation

Footsteps echoed hollowly through the gloom as Listion crossed the marble floor to the dais in the centre of the hall of the Dark Lord. Reaching it, he bowed his head, lowered himself to one knee and waited. Silence returned. For some time that was outside the bounds of time itself, he waited. Finally there was the faintest stirring from the being before him.

Yes? The voice rang hollowly and seemed to echo from walls that were light years distant.

It is done.

Good. There was a pause. And you are certain?

I am certain. My agents killed the entire family plus the Guardian.

Plus the Guardian?

Yes Dark Majesty.

By what means did you elude the rest of the Guardians?

There was only the one.

Again there was a pause, so long that Listion was beginning to wonder if he’d been dismissed; then the voice came again.

Only the one. The words seemed speculative.

Yes Dark Lord.

Only the one. The words were fainter as if the being at the centre of the dais was trying them out to see if they’d fit like some strange garment.

In the far distance were the muted wails of those chained within the pit of flames like notes of music brushing up against a wall of icy silence. Still Listion waited and would wait for all time if necessary.

You are a fool Listion. The words came abruptly with the full force of the Dark Lords attention behind them.

Yes your majesty.

There was another pause and then the Dark Lord continued almost conversationally.

Do you know why you are a fool?

No Dark Majesty.

Would you like to know?

If it so pleases you Lord.

The Guardians would never have left the child tended by just one of their number.

Yes Dark Majesty.

So the one you killed was not the child.

Yes Dark Majesty.

There was a slight, possibly contemplative pause.

You believe it was the one.

No Dark Majesty, uh, I mean, it was the one my agents followed.

And you discovered that trail by what means?

Our trackers followed the traces across the dimensions until we found the place of conception and birth; and we followed that trail until we found the human host and killed him.

Killed him.

Yes Dark Majesty.

Once more there was silence. Eventually the voice spoke again.

To balance the one we have, the other should be female.

I didn’t know that your Majesty.

In the entire trail across the dimensions was there no deviation or break?

There was none, um, except …

Except?

Well there was one tiny branch but we surmised it was just a Guardian returning to report.

Ah, I see. You surmised incorrectly.

Yes Lord.

Somewhere the other half of the wraith still lives.

I understand.

And by now, that single branch through the dimensions will have grown cold and dissipated.

Yes your Majesty.

Listion, you have failed. The words were a final dismissal and a sentence. Bowing his head, Listion stood up and left the chamber; and once again the sound of footsteps echoed hollowly until silence returned and all that could be heard was the occasional faint wail of despair.

Balchor, attend me.

From the darkness at the edges of the hall, one piece of darkness, blacker than most, detached itself and moved to kneel before the dais.

Your majesty, said Balchor, head bowed and kneeling upon one knee.

You need to find the child who is the other half of the wraith.

I will Dark Lord.

The trail through the dimensions has grown cold. It will no longer be possible to follow it.

Yes Majesty.

So it will take some time to find the one.

It will.

So before you can find the child, three full time segments they call years will have passed upon their world and in their dimension. This has now become unavoidable.

Yes.

When you find the child you will not harm it in any way. To do so would kill the other and cause them both to re-unite within the dimension of the Guardians. They would try again and they proved to be a resourceful enemy last time. They might do better should they have a second opportunity. We will not kill either child unless faced with utter destruction.

So it will be.

Instead you will arrange for the subject to be observed, and when given the opportunity, to be corrupted. By such means will we defeat the wraith, bring him again into our dimension and this time overwhelm him with despair so that he willingly takes his place in the grid.

It will be as you command.

Go now and do not fail. You have my leave to take whatever steps are necessary to successfully complete your mission.

Thank-you Dark Majesty.

Silence returned. As carefully as possible, Balchor withdrew from before his master. In the hall, the gloom seemed to intensify and reduce the entire chamber to a small space surrounding the dais from which the Lord of Stasis ruled. In that space alone was the comfort of unchanging eternity; and so, the Dark Lord slipped into the peace of nothingness for which he sought to bring to all the dimensions. But even as he let himself slip into such temporary oblivion, a thought crossed his mind. Have I been here before? Was there ever a time when stasis had been achieved only to be disrupted by some unimaginable event? That was something that even the Dark Lord could not remember; but he had the uncomfortable feeling that forever was a long, long time.

Listion did not enter the pit. He passed the writhing torment of souls caught up in the agony of their own hopelessness and continued on until he came to the grid itself, that immense network of lines that trapped in stasis the souls within its confines. Of course the guards saw him, but they had no business with, or interest in such as he. He passed them by without so much as a glance and then he took his place within the grid and passed quietly into the immortality of emptiness.

---------------------------

They numbered twenty-one and all were summoned. These were the elite, the ones chosen by the Dark Lord to operate on Earth from time to time and throughout the centuries. They had been born, lived their lives, and returned to the Kingdom of Stasis. Sometimes they were able to advance their master’s strategies and sometimes not; but they were always loyal and ready to drop everything to heed the summons. Some existed at that time within the dimension of stasis. Ten were on Earth and travelled by means of a trance-like state or within their dreams. The latter was easier in some respects if the agent was asleep when the summons came.

If there was any surprise that Balchor was in command, no-one gave the slightest indication nor were there any questions concerning the whereabouts of Listion. For all purposes, Listion had ceased to exist.

Stasis is Everything, intoned Balchor.

As now and always, came the collective response.

The mission to find and kill the wraith has failed. We have a new mission now.

If Peter, Mike, or Chon-lee were surprised they did not reveal it. They had followed a trail to its end. They had defeated a Guardian. They had killed a child and its parents. Nevertheless, the one who led said that the mission had failed and therefore it had failed.

Our mission is still to find the other half of the wraith but we must not kill it or see it come to harm in any way. We must watch it. We must bring it into proximity with the known half, and we must corrupt them both so that they may be drawn into our domain and taste the fires of despair until they willingly seek the grid. That is our command and we will not fail.

There was absolute silence. No questions were asked. No opinions were presented.

"Who are those that tracked it through the dimensions at the beginning?’

I did, said Nisp.

I also, said Alb.

And I, said Menica. We also had some of the Trackers with us.

The Trackers were quasi-living creatures that lived among the dimensions - never really spending much time in any. Since so many dimensions were void, they received such energy as they required from Stasis; but, using a human analogy, were more like dogs than intelligent beings. They were, however, particularly skilled at following energy traces from dimension to dimension.

So, continued Balchor, Along the way there was a deviation that was thought to be just a Guardian returning to report. In fact, the wraith slipped away at that instant and a substitute continued in its place and was later killed. Too many pulses have passed for even the Trackers to pick up that trail, so we must begin from scratch. I call for ideas.

Loth, known on Earth as Peter in his current incarnation spoke. The population of the planet is skewed towards south-east Asia, most notably India and China. Based on probability that is the place to look.

This is correct, said Bosk, also known as Chin-lee, But it is also likely that the wraith would have attempted to be born in a location that was either close to its other half, or where it projected its other half would eventually reside.

So, said Loth, That would suggest Greece or Canada.

That is correct, replied Bosk.

At this time, Nimue resides in Canada. We have no-one in Greece.

In my human existence I am but four years old. I have no means for independent action, said Nimue.

Understood, we shall need others. Who is physically closest to Greece?

Physicality is not much of an issue, noted Femil. There is almost nowhere on the planet that is more than forty-eight hours transit time for any of us. Logistics are more to the point. The inhabitants have created structures to curtail freedom of movement. They require special documentation called passports and arrivals must pass through a screening process that they refer to as ‘Customs and Immigration’. With our magic it is possible to circumvent that process to some extent, but doing so frequently creates logistical problems.

She continued There are also norms that can be violated only with some degree of risk. As a human female living in Saudi Arabia I am probably the closest to Greece, but I am forced to participate in strict religious practices that preclude my having independence of movement.

Can you not circumvent such practices? asked Balchor.

I can but not easily. With magic I can cloud the minds of others so that they see what I want them to see; but controlling more than two or three individuals becomes difficult; and, should I leave the country, there would almost certainly be a pursuit of some sort.

To a lesser extent that is true in my case as well, said Bosk, I hold a position that is quite high in the political hierarchy within China; but precisely because it is so high, the demands upon me tend to be greater and any unusual action will become a concern for others concerned with protecting or advancing their own positions.

And I, said Alb, also reside in China but my human form is that of a peasant. While I have few responsibilities, there are many rules that prohibit me freedom of movement.

And your magic?

My magic offers me the possibility of moving as I desire; but it requires caution and I am not able to execute plans quickly.

Perhaps, said Bosk, It is time to install more agents upon Earth.

We can do that, said Balchor, But the human growth and maturation process is time consuming.

Perhaps we should circumvent that process.

To transfer an agent from our dimension to Earth is possible; and has, in times of great urgency been done, but the energy transference is immense and recovering that energy once the dimension is subdued will take trillions of pulses. It is not something to take lightly.

Is there not a middle ground asked Bosk, that would allow an agent to be transferred to an existing human body?

Yes that is a possibility; even so, it still requires a great deal of energy – not as much as direct transfer of course, but still considerable. In addition, the transfer is not always completely successfully and, on occasion, the host organism is able to maintain enough control to fight against the possessor thereby limiting or even negating the presence of the agent.

There are some humans regarded as being less stable. Would they not be more vulnerable and require less energy to take over and control?

That is correct, they would succumb more easily; but generally their brains contain hormonal imbalances of such severity that they are largely useless for our purposes.

Balchor paused in thought and then said, Still, the population of the human world is sufficiently large that we should be able to find a middle ground. It will be considered and some additional agents dispatched when and if it becomes feasible. Until that time those agents currently on Earth will have to continue as is.

That being the case, said Bosk, Does anyone have any idea as to how we might begin?

Cene spoke. Through the news.

Can you elaborate?

The child will have considerable magical power lying dormant. From time to time it is likely that something will awaken that power with some tangible result. Therefore we need to keep an eye on the news for unusual events that may indicate a magical influence.

Yes, I think that is a good idea. Each of us with access to the internet can search for unusual news stories; but I think that unless we get lucky we’ll probably not be successful.

Remember, the child will not have learned to shield its magic so we may find traces that way.

Also a good idea.

Eventually, said Balchor, The soul will seek out its other half and then it will reveal itself to us; but if we have to wait that long it may acquire a level of goodness that will be difficult to corrupt.

Would it not be possible to take steps to corrupt the one we already have?

Yes, and that assuredly will be done; nevertheless, it may be that the purity of one may prevail over the corruption in the other. Remember, the wraith started as a pure entity capable of throwing off despair and rising from the dimension of stasis without aid. Such a soul is bound to have considerable power and resistance to our influence. It won’t be easy, and if the half-soul is allowed to mature by itself, it may dominate. It would be best if we can find it soon so as to bring such influence to bear that we might eventually come to control it.

All our efforts will be so directed.

There was general agreement and then the meeting was adjourned. For an instant there was a blurring of energy and then the respective souls returned to their earthly bodies and individuals either woke or at least stirred in their sleep.

----------------------------------

There was a large veranda attached to the back of the house. Near the back door was a lilac bush large enough to obscure the vision of anyone looking out the window. In front of the bush were three tall trees evenly spaced in the lawn that ran down to the brook. Of course it went without saying that four-year-old Willow was not allowed to go near the running water - an injunction that made it all the more alluring; however, on that particular day, even if she had disobeyed, it would have been perfectly safe because a February cold snap had frozen the little stream solid.

Of far more interest to her was the crisp clean snow on the yard that sloped enough to make a toboggan run; but not so steeply as to pose a risk. About two-hundred yards north of where she was playing was a steeper slope that was popular with the big kids and Willow could hear yells and laughter coming from that direction. Part of her was tempted to join them but she knew it was against the rules, and in addition, that the big kids probably wanted no part of her and her little pink snow-rider toboggan; so she contented herself with her own little hill. It was fun but she would have liked some other little kid to play with. Living where she did, there were few opportunities for meeting children her own age.

Of course, she had the opportunity to play with others when she went to junior kindergarten; but it wasn’t quite as good as having them nearby. From the bottom of the hill she began to drag the toboggan back to the top. There was a cold wind blowing but she took no notice of that. In her pink and white snowsuit she was perfectly warm. Soon she was flying down her hill again with added assistance from the wind at her back. She wondered it if was possible for her toboggan to take off and fly; just like how, in some of the stories her grandmother told, people rode flying carpets to great adventure.

The sky was grey partly from the clouds that were allowing a few small flakes to drift to earth and partly because it was beginning to grow dark. She was on her way to the top when her grandmother called her to supper. She considered asking for one more run but she knew her grandmother had been baking something that afternoon and she wanted to find out what it was.

Soon she was sitting at the kitchen table while her grandmother ladled out a fine helping of stew.

Did you wash your hands? asked Gran.

Sure did, she said with a grin. It was true too - at least this time because when she was getting out of her snowsuit it occurred to her that she needed to take a trip to the bathroom and she automatically washed her hands when she finished.

So how was school today?

Fine, she replied concentrating of a plump piece of beef.

And did you learn anything?

No.

You didn’t? Then why are we sending you to school?

To play, she replied looking surprised. After all, wasn’t that what school was for?

To play? I thought we sent you there to learn.

Willow nodded, To learn to play.

Ah, I see. Would you like some bread to mop up your gravy?

Yes please.

Supper time was just Willow and her grandmother except on the weekends. During the week, she was usually in bed by the time her parents got home. She might be still awake in which case she received a kiss from her mother; but frequently she went days without seeing them. She wasn’t really bothered by this so long as she had her grandmother.

She knew her father worked as something called a financial analyst for a company called AEF, but she had no idea what a financial analyst did or why he did it. Likewise she knew her mother worked as a computer analyst in a digital photo lab, but those were just words. All she knew was that her parents were gone when she got up in the morning and didn’t come home until she was in bed at night. It was her grandmother who provided breakfast, lunch and dinner and who took her to the school bus and met her when she came home. And it was her grandmother she went to if she had a skinned knee or a bruise that needed to be kissed better.

Had enough? asked her grandmother.

Yes thanks. Grandmother gathered up the dishes and took them out to the kitchen for washing.

What’s for dessert?

Dessert? Well I thought we’d skip dessert tonight. We really don’t have anything that might make a good dessert.

Grandma! You baked this afternoon! I could smell it when I came home.

Oh that, that was just a little something to put in the freezer in case company comes.

Grandma!

Oh well, if you insist, are you really sure you want some?

Yes! Willow was almost quivering on her chair with anticipation.

Well in that case maybe I can find a little something.

Grandma returned from the kitchen carrying a cherry cheesecake but she had used whipped cream to decorate the top so that it looked like a giant red and white snow flake. She’d also put some aquamarine cake glitter onto the whipped cream so the dessert had a sparkly effect. As Willow looked at it her eyes grew wide.

Wow! she said.

Well shall I put it into the freezer now that you’ve had a chance to look at it?

Grandma! Willow’s eyes, always large in her heart shaped face grew even larger.

Oh, you think you’d maybe like to try a piece. Well I guess we can arrange that.

Grandma cut a piece of the cheesecake and put it on Willow’s plate and then cut one for herself. For several seconds Willow gazed in awe at the dessert and then took a small bite. If it was possible her eyes grew even wider.

Wow! she said.

Grandmother smiled. That ‘wow’ was all the reward she needed for an afternoon’s work. Soon both grandmother and granddaughter were concentrating on the sweet and when they finished, grandma winked and cut a second little sliver for Willow who made short work of that as well. It has to be admitted that Willow did have a bit of a sweet tooth but it wasn’t often she had a chance to indulge it. Grandmother was pretty careful about making sure that the whole family ate healthy food and treats like this were rare and possibly enjoyed all the more for being so.

Come on, said Grandma, Let’s you and me go out to the kitchen and do the dishes.

Okay, said Willow. Grandma washed and Willow dried. Of course she had to stand on a stool to reach but she enjoyed doing stuff with her grandmother.

Did you have fun on your toboggan after you came home?

Yeah.

Did it go real fast for you?

Yeah.

Was it cold outside?

We had finger painting in kindergarten today.

Oh that’s nice, was it fun?

Yeah.

You looked pretty clean when you came home so Miss Cathers must have cleaned you up afterwards.

We wore special socks. They were sort of like dresses.

Oh you mean smocks.

Right and even the boys had to wear them.

Yes, Miss Cathers wouldn’t want the boys getting all covered with paint.

The boys had to wear dresses! Willow giggled. She was delighted with the novelty of it all.

Well it’s okay for a boy to wear a dress if it’s actually a smock.

Yeah.

So what did you paint?

I painted a big flower that was blue and I painted the moon shining on it.

Grandmother hesitated. Most children would have drawn the sun and she wondered if this was the first sign of the magic she was sure her granddaughter possessed. She considered probing more deeply but just then the phone rang. The washing was complete and they were both drying so Grandmother put down her towel and Willow kept on drying the last of the silverware.

Hello?

Hi Mom, it’s Catherine. The snow’s already started to come down pretty hard and they say it’s going to get a lot worse so Brian and I have decided to stay in town and take a motel room for the night.

Good, I was starting to get worried about the thought of you driving through this; but do you think you can find a motel that isn’t fully booked? I imagine quite a few people will have the same idea.

I know but if we call around I’m sure we can find something or we can each stay in our offices and curl up under the desk.

Agnes laughed. You’d look like something else in the morning.

Catherine chuckled, Yeah I know but I’m sure we’ll find something.

Okay now you take care.

Mom, will you be okay staying all alone tonight?

Okay? Me okay? Why, child, you forget that I lived for five years all alone in the mountains hundreds of miles away from another person immediately before you were born.

Catherine laughed, Mom you know that’s biologically impossible. How could you have had me?

Your real father was a yeti. I just married Ben because he had big brown eyes and a cute butt.

Yetis only live in the Himalayas.

That’s where it was. I was living in the Himalayas at the time. He was a nice yeti but didn’t say much – couldn’t talk you know. But there’s something to be said for sharing your bed with someone who has eight inch long fur on a cold winter night; especially when the only supplies I had for survival were a pink negligee and a parasol.

Catherine couldn’t help laughing at the image. Honestly Mom, but why did you have the parasol?

Really dear, a girl has to look like a lady in any circumstances.

So what are you and Willow up to?

We had supper and just finished washing the dishes. Willow, would you like to say hi to your mom?

Willow came over and took the phone. Hi Mom.

Hey you.

We had finger painting in class today.

So what colour did you paint your fingers?

Willow giggled. We painted stuff with our fingers.

What sort of stuff?

I painted a blue flower and the moon.

What colour was the flower before you started?

Mom! It was a picture of a flower.

Oh I see.

And the boys had to wear dresses.

Really?

You know, like over their clothes so they didn’t get all painty.

Oh an apron.

Gramma said it was a smock.

Ah, I see now. Yes a smock does look a bit like a dress doesn’t it.

Yeah, we had sparkly dessert tonight.

Really, what kind of sparkly dessert?

You know when gramma makes a sort of a pie thing with cherries on top and whip cream on the cherries?

Ah, a cheesecake.

Right, but it sparkled.

Really? Was it good?

Yeah.

Drat, Mommy has to stay in town tonight because there’s too much snow to drive through and you’ll probably eat it all up before I can get home tomorrow.

Willow giggled.

Will you save Mommy a piece?

Yeah, said Willow.

And Daddy too?

Yeah.

And Miss Cathers at school, and the mailman, and Mr. and Mrs. Fielding our neighbors, and their two dogs, and the entire fire department and …

Mom! It’s not that big!

Oh okay, well as long as you save a piece for Mommy and Daddy I guess that will be enough.

Okay.

Well I’d better get going now ‘cause Daddy and I need to find a place to stay tonight.

You don’t have a place?

Not yet but we’ll find one.

Where?

At a motel.

What’s a motel?

It’s like a really big house with a lot of rooms and you pay them some money and they let you use one of their rooms for the night.

Oh, okay.

So I’d better be going now.

Okay.

I love you sweetheart.

I love you too Mommy.

Bye now.

Bye.

Willow hung up and turned to her grandmother. Mommy and Daddy are going to stay at a motel tonight.

Oh that’s nice.

A motel is like a big house with lots of rooms and you pay money and they let you use one of the rooms.

Well in that case let’s hope your mom chooses one of the rooms that has a bed in it.

Yeah, agreed Willow.

How about you and me go and have a game of snakes and ladders.

Okay, said Willow happily. Sometimes they played snakes and ladders. Sometimes they played Crocono. Sometimes they played checkers and sometimes they played with Willow’s dolls and made up stories about them. Grandmother liked to mix up her pitches. The Westover home was something of an anomaly because they didn’t have cable television. In fact, they didn’t even own a television because Grandmother felt strongly that children brought up under its influence were limited in their ability to imagine and she knew that someday Willow would need all the imagination and creativity she could muster. Plus, Agnes liked to play with her little granddaughter. When Catherine had been young Agnes hadn’t had as much time as she would have liked with her daughter so she was making up for lost time. It was an easy game to set up and soon they were hard at it.

Here comes the white knight riding through the forest, said Gramma as she moved her counter. Aha, he’s found a magic jewel that lets him move on, she continued, landing on a ladder and advancing to square thirty-eight.

And here comes the beautiful princess, said Willow. Oh dear she missed the jewel and has to keep riding. She moved her counter to square twenty.

Oh the white knight only gets to advance two, said Gramma rolling the dice. His horse is tired and he needs to slow down and take it easy.

The princess is tired too, said Willow rolling a one, But oh, look, she’s so pretty the sun has smiled and moved her way up here! The ladder moved Willow to square forty-two. Now she’s ahead of the white knight.

Yes but his horse is refreshed and he’s going much faster now. Gramma had just rolled a six and moved to forty-six on which there was a big blue circle. Look, he’s come across an enchanted tree and gets to move to the next blue square. She advanced to forty-seven.

The princess’s horse is hurrying now. Willow rolled a five and found herself sharing forty-seven with her grandmother. Look they’re together.

So they can talk. Come fair princess, rest a while and I’ll go on ahead and scale the tower and find the gold.

No, you wait here. The princess is going to climb the tower and get the gold.

Well we’ll see about that. Gramma rolled a four. Here goes the knight on his white horse with his shining sword. Oh my, he’s found a magical doorway deep in the forest and it has carried him a long way forward. The ladder that grandmother landed on moved her counter to square sixty-nine on which there was a round orange circle. And look, when he came through the door he found a table holding magical food and with that he has advanced even further. She moved her counter to the next orange square that happened to be sixty-eight.

Willow rolled a three and moved to fifty. The princess is behind but she’ll never give up.

Gramma rolled a five. The white knight has dodged the goblins that were trying to catch him. She moved to seventy-three.

Willow rolled a one. Aha, the princess has sung a magical song and moved on. She had landed on the same ladder that had helped her grandmother. And look, the fairies have left a magic circle for her. She moved to sixty-eight.

The knight lowers his lance and charges through all danger. Gramma advanced six to seventy-nine.

The princess tore her dress so she’s a little slower. Willow had rolled a four to seventy-two.

If the knight can convince the Guardian of the tower to let him in he can get the gold right now. A one would be a win for gramma but instead she got a six. It was still a good roll and moved her to eighty-five. The Guardian has closed the door and won’t listen so the white knight is riding hard across the meadow.

Willow also rolled a six. The princess has fixed her dress and is riding just as hard as the knight. She was at seventy-eight and her eyes gleamed as she realized that with a roll of two she could climb the tower past the Guardian and get the gold.

Grandmother rolled a four. The knight managed to evade the deadly curse of the ancient kings that was waiting for him. She moved to eighty-nine.

Willow was concentrating hard on the next throw. A two would open gates to the tower and let her in. Sure enough she rolled a two.

The Guardian has allowed the princess into the tower and she got all the gold! sang out Willow triumphantly.

Grandmother smiled, Yes the beautiful princess won the day and got the gold. Shall we have another game?

Yes please!

Grandmother was happy because, not only was she playing with Willow, but she caught the faintest trace of magic in the air. She knew that Willow wasn’t aware of it nor had she deliberately cheated, but she had the talent and had influenced the last role of the dice. That was what gramma wanted. By the tiniest of steps Willow would be introduced to that talent that lay dormant inside her.

In whatever game they played, gramma added a story and changed it a bit with each match. In the next game a duck and a beautiful swan were racing to a hidden nest to get the golden egg, and not surprisingly, when all was said and done, the beautiful swan got there first.

Okay time for bed now.

Okay. Sometimes Willow wasn’t all that enthusiastic about bed, but she’d had a busy day and figured that her luck was probably about to change in Snakes and Ladders so she might as well go to bed.

Cookie first? asked Gramma.

Yes please!

Willow had polished off a couple of oatmeal cookies and half a glass of warmed milk and was ready for the teeth-brushing and washing ceremony. When that was complete she got into her mermaid pajamas and climbed into bed. Gramma tucked her in.

Story please, said Willow.

Okay, replied Gramma, Do you know the story of Sleeping Beauty?

Yes.

Do you remember what happened to the bad fairy that put her to sleep?

Willow thought. I think she was killed.

By who?

By the prince.

"That’s right in some versions of the story, but in some she wasn’t killed. She used her magic to transform into a dragon when she fought the prince and his lance stabbed her between the scales. Although she was badly hurt and had to let the prince save Sleeping Beauty, she wasn’t killed. She flew down the mountain to escape; but about half way she found herself growing weaker so she had to land and transform back into a woman. So there she was, wounded and bleeding and she had lost a lot of blood so she fell to the ground in a faint.

She would probably had died then, but as she was laying there, a peasant girl who was out gathering blue-berries found her and put a large piece of cloth all folded up on her wound to make it stop bleeding. Then she picked her up and carried her back to her cottage in the woods where she put healing ointment on the wound and wrapped it up carefully.

Several days went by before the bad fairy woke up and when she did she found herself in the cottage of the peasant girl. She was too weak to move or even to eat, but the girl gave her nourishing broth that she could sip and fed it to her spoonful by spoonful. Soon she was able to eat again and the girl shared her small amount of food.

Almost a full month went by before the bad fairy could get up and walk by herself and in all that time the peasant girl helped her.

One night as the two sipped their tea following supper, Morita, the bad fairy, asked, ‘Why did you help me when you found me on the mountain side?’

‘You were hurt,’ replied Clarette.

‘You could have left me there. I know you are poor and have little food. While I’ve been recovering you must have been hungry many times.’

Clarette thought before she spoke. ‘Yes, there were times I was hungry, and, yes, I could have left you there; but you see, I think it’s best to help others who need help even if sometimes maybe you’d rather not.’

‘Then you are very kind.’

Again Clarette hesitated. ‘I don’t think it’s kindness so much as a good idea. We all have to live and I’m sure your life is as important to you as mine is to me. Somehow, if I chose to ignore you or anyone who is in trouble, there’d be less of me. So, if I can, I help.’

‘Less of you. I don’t think I understand.’

‘Well, I don’t know if I can explain; but while you’ve been sick, you’ve been here and in my care; so, I know that I can do something like care for someone who’s really ill, even though I wasn’t sure if I could save you when I first found you. So I learned something from that; and while you’ve been here, well, there’s been someone else around, someone to look after and feed, and even worry about, but here, nonetheless. And even though it was sometimes hard work and even though you’re right, I did miss a few meals, I’ve done something and experienced something and I wouldn’t have if I’d just left you. Yes I could have gone on living here and nothing would have changed; but I don’t think that’s a good idea. It may be okay for some, or even for me now and then, but mostly it doesn’t work. That’s what I meant by there being less of me.’

‘Yes I think I see. So what will you do now that I’m better? You know I’ll be leaving soon.’

‘Oh I’ll go back to minding the sheep for the villagers in the valley during the summer and I’ll earn a little money from them. And I’ll have my garden and I’ll collect food from the forest. There’s plenty to do and it all needs to be done before winter.’

‘And during the winter?’

‘Well, the people in the village give me some of the wool they gather in the spring and I set it aside and then spin it for them during the winter. I get a little money from that too.’

‘It seems like a hard life.’

Clarette shrugged, ‘It’s my life.’

The next day when Clarette returned from tending the sheep, she found the cottage empty and Morita gone; but there, on the table was a small bag. When she opened it she found five gold coins. This was not much compared to the wealth held by the king or the nobles; but for her, it was a fortune and would supplement her other income for a long time. She had no idea where Morita could have got the money for she had nothing when Clarette found her but it was still good fortune.

Morita, for her part, returned to her castle in the southern part of the kingdom. When she got to it she stopped short. It was a tall, seven story tower of black stone that had been beaten over the years by wind and rain until it was aged and weathered. It was still sturdy; but while before, it had seemed a tower of strength and power, it suddenly seemed old and unpleasant. Inside, Morita found the same dank cellar she had left many months before. She found the larder now with food that had rotted and cheese that was nothing but mold. Of course she discarded those, but it still seemed unpleasant. Upstairs was her sleeping quarters, one can hardly say bedroom, because the bed was little more than a ratty mattress under four tall posts over which was a ragged canvas canopy. Above that in the top of the tower was her workroom containing potions dark and dangerous, spell books that were cloaked in darkness, all surrounding a cluttered and dirty work table.

‘Enough!’ she said and set to work. On her hands and knees she scoured the kitchen. It was hard work and she chose not to make use of magic; but when she was finished, it was so clean that it could have served as the kitchen for a palace. Then she set to work cleaning up the lower level until it was no longer a dungeon but could be used as a root cellar. Next she set to work on her workroom. She tossed out many of the more poisonous ingredients and took the bad spell books outside, built a bonfire and burnt the lot of them. Lastly she cleaned all the old worm-eaten furniture from her bedroom and replaced it with a nice new bed and some chests of drawers - but not before she painted the entire room a pretty pale green so that it would cheer her when she woke in the morning. Her magic did not extend to replacing the tower itself but she did hang red and yellow banners from some of the windows to give it a more cheerful air.

Morita was not perfect. She didn’t completely turn a new leaf and set about helping everyone she came across, but at least she refrained from harming them; and over time, those living in the village nearby ceased to live in fear and they even came to greet her with a cheerful ‘good morning’ when she periodically came to market to get food. Eventually some of the villagers found their way to her tower when they needed medical assistance and she exercised such magic and good sense as she could; and when she couldn’t cure someone, she could usually make their passing easier. So in the end she was quite liked by the villagers, and when her own time had passed and she returned to the magic from which she was born, there were many who were sad to see her go. And that’s the end of the story."

Good story, said Willow in a sleepy voice.

Grandmother drew up the covers around her chin, kissed her granddaughter on the cheek and slipped quietly from the room.

Outside the snow had stopped for the moment, but looking from the window, she saw a ring of ice around the moon and that meant there would be more before morning. Opening the door she looked outside. Moonlight on the snow made the night almost seem bright; but it was a different sort of brightness. The shadows were deeper and the snow had a bluish tinge. There was no wind nor the slightest sound. Grandmother studied the stillness for the better part of a minute and then said, I can tell you’re there so you might as well show yourself and come inside.

Abruptly there was a small gust of air that stirred a pocket of snow into a cloud and from its depths walked a young man with sandy brown hair and a wide smile.

It’s hard to hide from one who has the sight like you do, he said.

Of course it is but you weren’t trying too hard. You just wanted to make a dramatic entrance. Honestly, a puff of snow? What do you take me for?

I take you for one who holds considerable magic and is well respected among the Guardians, Grandmother.

I’m not your grandmother and you’d best come in before the cold runs through the house.

Soon they were seated in the kitchen over a steaming mug of tea.

So what is it you want? said Grandmother. And who are you by the way?

Well my name is Brin, he replied answering the second question first, and it’s seldom that I’m too far away from this place or wherever the child happens to be at the time.

I know that; but why did you step into this dimension?

I like your tea and cookies.

Grandmother had to laugh. This is the first time you’ve eaten my cookies or drank my tea so you couldn’t possibly know you liked them.

I surmised, that based upon your reputation with the child, they had to be excellent.

But however much you may like them you’re not here for that reason.

No, I’m here to advise you that it will soon be necessary to move into the city.

Grandmother’s face darkened. The city’s no place for one such as she.

Then she’ll have to make it such a place, for the move is necessary.

Why do we have to move?

You realize I’m sure that she’s only half of the One?

Of course.

Then you must realize that even as she lives here and learns from you and Catherine, the other half is under the control of the Dark Lord.

Yes, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

Perhaps not, but you can place the child where she will come into contact with her other half and influence him as he’s growing up.

That’s too much to ask! She’s too young to be influencing anybody. It’s likely she who’d be influenced.

I don’t think so. As long as you and Catherine are in her life she’ll continue to grow strong. Her roots run deep and there’s quite a bit more to her than you realize. She can influence the other and she can make the difference.

And you don’t think the other side will notice what we’re doing?

Oh they’ll notice, but their ability to act is somewhat constrained. To start with they don’t dare harm her and I think that anything they might try to corrupt her will backfire. There is not the slightest taint of darkness on Willow’s soul; and with your influence and Catherine’s, she’ll not only come into her true power but she’ll influence the boy when all the dark forces are trying to corrupt him.

And what happens if it occurs to the opposition that it might be best to remove her from Catherine’s and my influence by removing the two of us.

Brin frowned. We must see that doesn’t happen.

Even the best plans sometimes fail. You’re taking a terrible risk.

The risk will be even higher if we leave the boy to grow up alone.

Grandmother paused. She knew he was correct but she hated the thought of doing anything that might put her little granddaughter at risk.

The city is no place for one who has magic.

It can be. The city is just a place of bricks and mortar with a large number of people living in a confined area. Yes, it is not the most peaceful of places, but a great many people take satisfaction in precisely the energy that is generated by such a vibrant mass of humanity.

Take satisfaction? I suppose you could call it that. I call it abandoning their identity for that of the mob - or for ‘popular culture’ if you want to use the more polite term.

Don’t be too quick to judge. Remember you’re no longer young and the world you grew up in has long since passed. Many would argue that’s for the better.

Since when is ‘shallow’, ‘pretentious’ and ‘insipid’ for the better? There aren’t any values any more, just a mindless dash for meaningless hedonism.

And some would suggest that such is living on the edge.

On the brink is more like it. Even the terminology supports this insanity. How often does the adjective ‘extreme’ precede an activity that might conceivably benefit the body or the mind, but has been corrupted so that all that is left for the participants is a bunch of lactic acid and some overworked adrenal glands?

Brin laughed. You make a good point and it’s hard to argue with you. There is much wrong with the urban lifestyle, but it resonates strongly with the young; and even though they may seem to be nothing more than raging vessels of unchecked hormones I think that underneath they’re maturing in ways you might not recognize for a while.

Well the point is, I don’t want her exposed to that.

Nor do I, but he is being influenced by it day by day and we need something to counterbalance that. Willow has you, her father and Catherine and you’re all good people. She’s far better grounded than other children her age – in fact she’s far better grounded than most adults, and she won’t be easily diminished by the shallowness of urban life. And remember, just because you’ll be living in the city is no reason to think you’ll be completely cut off from your roots. There are plenty of parks and green spaces where a person can grow.

If their minds are not reduced to mush by the constant sounds of planes flying overhead, car horns honking, engines running and someone’s stereo playing something they call music; and is in fact, nothing more than obscenities shouted over percussion.

Admittedly stillness is easier to find in a rural setting, but you haven’t always lived in the country yet you always succeeded in keeping yourself from drowning in the fast pace of the city.

I didn’t enjoy it though.

Well Willow is younger and perhaps can tread more easily the fine line between urban and pastoral.

When do you expect us to make the move?

Not for a while. I want Willow to attend the same school as Alex so it will have to be by next September; so sometime during August might be best.

Agnes looked surprised. I doubt that will be possible. Didn’t Oisse say that the boy’s mother is wealthy and moves among the social elite? I imagine they’ll choose an exclusive private school for their son and one that our family could never afford.

I’m sure you’re correct about the first part, but generally such schools have a scholarship program so that they can add some talent to the roster of mediocrity sent to them by over indulgent parents.

And you think Willow can win a scholarship.

I can practically guarantee it.

Agnes looked at him suspiciously. What are you planning to do?

Now, now, some things are not to be overly scrutinized. Your job is to protect your granddaughter and introduce her to magic, and mine is to keep minor bureaucratic details from becoming inconvenient.

You’re planning to cheat aren’t you?

Never! Well hardly ever, and in this case I doubt it will be necessary. You see, Willow really is an exceptional little girl; and they don’t test so much as interview the children, and if there’s one thing Willow can do and do well, it’s talk.

Agnes laughed. Yes I suppose you’re right. Well, be careful that the school isn’t too far away. I don’t want her to have to travel all over the city.

I’ll do my best.

-------------------------

Alex shouldered his little backpack and stepped out of the red Ford Focus and into the underground parking lot of the condominium. Nanny Rosa closed her door and locked it. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence but Alex wasn’t paying attention.

Do you think that Cook made cookies today? he asked hopefully.

Maybe, said Rosa, He was busy baking something when I left; but I know he had to put together a flan for your mother’s dinner party so he might have been working on that.

What’s a flan?

It’s sort of like custard only lighter and more difficult to make.

Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the largely empty space. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and most of the tenants were at work so there weren’t many cars. They came to the exit and Rosa stepped aside to let Alex push the button. Soon they were riding up to his apartment. As soon as they got inside, Alex’s nose told him that cookies were somewhere in residence.

I smell cookies! Yeah!

Okay, but you can only have two now because I don’t want to spoil your supper.

Okay.

Surprisingly Alex didn’t raise any fuss over the limit placed on his cookie consumption. In most respects he was a very well behaved little boy – despite always being the center of attention and with all the toys anyone could ever hope for. The problem, if it could be called that, was that with four nannies looking after him, along with an occasional baby sitter, there was never a moment when he had to amuse himself. Technically he should have been spoiled rotten; and while he was certainly spoiled, he had never had the opportunity to become rotten. The nannies worked forty hour weeks. They worked in shifts. Deirdre paid quite well and with the job consisting of nothing more than minding one little boy, they set about minding him just as well as they could.

Alex understood that he had four nannies and one mother; but for him, the distinction was that the character known as Mother was seldom present - but there was always a nanny nearby. Each of the four had a slightly different personality but he bonded with all of them. It was not that he disliked his mother. In fact he thought she was rather exotic although that was not a term he used; but she was seldom around and it was the nannies he relied on for nurturing and companionship.

How was JK today?

Good, he said, Mrs. Veld told us the story of Little Red Riding Hood.

You already know that story.

"Yes, but she pretended to be all the