What
People Are Saying About...
AVENHAL - Return of the Taneen:
“I was instantly transfixed by the… magic trees and those who sought to preserve them. I'd like to see and hear them myself! Wonderful and engaging.”
“…transitions from reality to magic and back again in such a seamless and convincing way. In both the real world and in the magical world, we are exploring themes of family and loss. Young adult readers will be fascinated by this book.”
(2010 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award - Quarter-Finalist Expert Reviews)
Copyright
© 2009 by Bram Floria
Published
by:
Crossways.net
Press
P.O.
Box 235
Kyle, TX 78640
“Quality fiction for families.”
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All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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design:
www.crossways.net/design
ISBN:
978-1-4523-9615-6
Smashwords Edition
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Table
of Contents
Title
Page
What
People are Saying...
Copyright
Foreword:
Dedication:
Maps
Prologue
A
trip to the auction house
More
than they bargained for
Adventures
getting home
Magic
in these seas
How
will they explain this?
A
mystery or two
Another
unexpected find
What
does it mean?
The
letter
Mr.
Estleton
What
they learned in the library
A
garden on the way
At
the steps of Namer'eb
The
Shining Man
Preparations
for a feast
The
invisible trek
The
Feast of Visitation
The
vision
The
return of Toracham
A
lost cause?
Answers
on high
Of
sea and sky
Unexpected
help
On
the move
The
battle draws near
Confusion
and clarity
Speed
and tricks
Dangers
in the night
Northward
Face
to face
An
end to kings
Glossary
About
the Author
Foreword:
AVENHAL – Return of the Taneen was written with the young reader in mind, but it's also a saga of epic scale. If you're a young person, you may need to hide in the closet for a while with this book so your parents don't steal it. If you can't fend them off, consider passing it around and reading aloud. That way everyone can share in the adventure. You'll encounter timeless themes such as heroes and villains; tragedy and triumph; victory and defeat; desperation and hope. A glossary and pronunciation guide are provided in an appendix at the end of this book to make things easier.
Dedication:
AVENHAL – Return of the Taneen is dedicated to my own special team of readers; Dempsey, Lyric and Cadence. Your constant refrain of “Tell me a story!” has brought me to a whole new level of creativity. There is nothing like watching your eyes light up as you fall into a new adventure of imagination. And now Canon has joined the team. I see more adventures and adventurers in our future.
I love you always...
Daddy
Maps:
Prologue
Dânâ dar Kâgar was an old man, but it wasn't his age that slowed his steps. He'd always been strong, and even at these altitudes he could still move as confidently as the young men. His granddaughter, Omid, was another matter. Even at her young age, she was as graceful as a deer, and about as swift. He loved to see her long raven hair bouncing as she raced through these mountain meadows. I have no hope of keeping up with her now, he thought with a sad smile. Soon she would be old enough to attend a school in a larger village, and these blessed days they spent together would draw to a close. But Dânâ was not focused on that thought at present. His feet had stopped a few yards short of the last ridge on their journey. There he bowed his head and sighed.
Omid had been ambling down by the stream and looked up to see her Papa slowing. She knew what was bothering him, so she quickly, and quietly, made her way to his side. She silently slid her hand into his and faced the ridge. It would be difficult for her, too. She looked up and fixed her brilliant hazel eyes on the side of his weathered face.
"It's OK, Papa. I'm here with you. That is magic enough" she said quietly. He nodded slowly, gently squeezed her hand and continued up the slope without saying a word. They walked together, hand-in-hand, till the little valley opened up below them, framed on three sides by the massive peaks still covered in snow. They stood there, remembering.
Though she spent most of the year in the village of Âbjân with her family, Omid considered these mountains her true home. For most of the year, Dânâ was the village woodworker and artist, though he'd been raised a shepherd. There were fewer of those each generation, and the other families in the village had learned to depend upon his experience, entrusting their animals to him. Together, Omid and her Papa had made this trek each Spring, leading the village flocks to a small paradise of lush grass, clean waters and sunshine. And then there were the trees. Mighty oaks, as tall as a cypress, with brilliant blue-green leaves, like polished soapstone. The light would filter to the grass below in a luminescent way - almost as if the trees themselves were creating a soft light. There was a calm under these trees that was peaceful, musical, and almost magical. They were the "Avaz Deraxt-ha" - the Song Trees.
Were the trees. And this is what brought such sorrow to both Dânâ and Omid. As they had learned so dreadfully the year before, there were no longer any trees left in the "Dare ku Aqazidan Pardis" the "Valley where Eden begins," as it was known to them. Since the times of the ancient stories, the trees had stood majestically around the "Cashme Pardis" - Eden's Spring. From here the waters had flowed to the garden where men had first learned who they were, and had first learned to disobey their Maker. Not only was Dânâ dar Kâgar an artist with his hands, he was also a masterful storyteller. As such, he was a "Keeper of the Old Wisdom." As they would lay awake late at night, looking up through those broad branches to brilliant starlit skies, Omid's Papa had beguiled her with stories of Earth's first garden.
"Long ago, my Dear One" would Dânâ begin, "Adam and Eve lived in a splendid garden, in the shadow of great trees. They provided shelter, food and everything needed to live in peace and happiness. The trees were named Knowledge, Wisdom, Life and Song. It wasn't long, however, before Adam and his wife were removed from the garden for their pride. The trees of Knowledge, Wisdom and Life were no longer within reach. Since that time it has taken much toil, sweat, tears and sorrow to gain such things. The garden itself has faded with the mists of time.
"The children of that garden were not abandoned, however. The Master Gardener left them the Tree of the Song. Adam was allowed to carry forth its tender shoots, planting and nurturing these trees wherever he traveled. 'These trees shaded the days of my innocence' said Adam, 'so I will bring their shade to wherever the rivers flow and the Garden of Beginnings will not be forgotten.'
"So he journeyed to the end of each river that fed the Garden, planting Song Trees as he went, eventually coming to the highest springs. For seven generations, Adam and his sons tended these trees. For many centuries after they continued to sing a beautiful song, sometimes laughing, sometimes solemn. But always true. They sang of a promise to restore that garden one day - one that would never fade away. You could hear the song each time the wind would stir their branches. It is said that there are even rare and wonderful times when the Master Gardener himself returns to walk the paths between them.
"Where these trees grew became known as the 'Peaceful Woods' and men would settle their disputes under their branches. In this way the Song Trees protected men from the confusion and selfishness of their own hearts. Kings and commoners would cease their striving.
"But over the centuries, the ears of men grew deaf to the song, and they no longer nourished and protected the trees. They began to disappear. Eventually, men forgot about the Song Trees, all except for a few who still read the ancient stories and believed. The water that nourishes this valley comes from the highest spring in the ancient land of Kash, and is the source of one of the four great rivers of Eden. The oaks you sit under now, my dear one, are the last of those trees.
Omid absolutely
believed as she was told, with all her heart. As she grew, she
learned to hear the Song. She also learned to sing that song herself.
And, to her delight, she discovered that the Song Trees would answer
her song. Like a soft echo, or the music of a small waterfall, the
Song Trees would keep harmony with her. Each Spring she would greet
the trees with the song of her heart and run down the valley to
Eden's Spring.
And now, Dânâ and Omid stood at that very spot, taking it all in. It was still a beautiful place, and the grass was lush and green. The sheep and goats were all eagerly moving toward the pasture and its large pool for a drink. The snows higher up the slopes glistened with a dazzling brightness in the afternoon sun. The two of them began their walk down into the valley.
"The new growth of Spring has healed many scars," observed Dânâ. He was speaking of the condition of the valley, where the deep ruts of machinery had been softened by fresh grass. He hoped it was true of his own heart. Omid surveyed the massive stumps where the trees had once framed the pool, now looking like giant tables waiting to be set for a feast. A wide gash of temporary road had been carved into the ridge to their left. It came from the north, a highway for the huge, tree-eating machines. And somewhere down that road the trunks of those beautiful trees had been taken. Knowing what to expect this year, they had brought a tent with them. Perhaps they'd place it where they used to sleep in the shelter of branches.
"If you wish it, Papa, I can help you finish the doors before we both forget what they looked like."
●●●
After much thought on the matter, Dânâ had decided that the best use of the wood from the Song Trees would be a beautiful gateway to their little village. The current one had been in disrepair for as long as any could remember. He had taken great care in sawing the timbers into the needed post beams and planks, saving as much of the wood as possible. As he went about his work, he discovered two remarkable things. One was the beauty of the wood itself. Even without a finish, the grain shimmered in the light, in tones of deep jewel colors. Secondly, was the Song. It was not gone! As he worked the wood, the very music of the Eden's Spring was unmistakable. It was not loud. In fact one had to be very close to the wood to hear it, but his heart knew the song at once. Dânâ determined to make the doors of this new village gate a work of art. Others must have felt the music too, for many of Omid's friends would often fill the doorway of his shop just to watch him work. Shortly before returning to the mountains this Spring, Dânâ had begun the ornate carvings that would cover the doors.
●●●
"Yes, my dear one! You have been such a good help already. I will need your good memory to remind me of the details. Together we will give our village a true gift." The plan made Omid very proud. How could I NOT remember? thought Omid to herself…
For the rest of the afternoon they busied themselves with setting up their shepherd's camp and replacing the fallen stones from the walls of the sheep pen. Not long before the sun fell below the horizon Omid helped her Papa start a fire and put on the pot to reheat some stew. A kettle was filled to brew a fragrant tea. These were ready by the time they had prepared their tent and bed rolls. They sat down with their legs crossed to share their meal and face the fire for a little extra warmth. Shadow had crept across the valley by now, and the sunset's reflection was retreating up the snowy slopes above them.
As Dânâ put away the cooking utensils and sharpened his camp knife, Omid walked to the far side of the spring to whistle in the goats and sheep. They knew her voice and followed obediently into the pen. She fixed the bar across the low gate and looked in the distance to see her Papa entering the tent to light the lantern. Instead of heading right back, she walked over to one of the stumps. It had been sawn through almost perfectly level, and was at least six feet across. It was just high enough for her to rest her elbows and chin upon as she sat down in the grass.
And there, all of her emotions finally poured forth, tears welling up in her eyes. She did not realize till now how much she would miss the trees, but more importantly the Song. Would she ever hear it again? She didn't know if she could bear the silence.
A tear dropped from her nose onto the wood and made a soft sound, which Omid was too full of sorrow to hear. Another tear dropped, and another soft sound returned to her ears. This time she heard it. She rubbed her eyes and three more large clear tears dropped to the wood below. This time there were not just sounds, but notes that she heard. She sat up and away from the stump.
"My mind is playing tricks on me now - how cruel!" she thought out loud. Her eyes cleared a bit and she looked at the wood. She did not see what she expected. In front of her, and covering a circle of about two feet was what appeared to be a pool, or a mirror.
"Goodness, It haven't cried that much now, have I?" She stood up to look at it. It reflected the mountains beyond with the sunset colors of rose and violet. "Oh, I am such a fool! It's just rainwater, I'm sure." And she burst into tears again, more tears dripping down her cheeks and from her chin to the wood below. Now there were chimes or notes like bells coming back to her. Omid caught her breath and looked intently at the stump. The mirror was now as wide as the whole top and reflecting back all of the scenery in front of her. There was a humming, like the sound of string players trilling their instruments lightly. Though she did not understand it, she was looking at the Song, which had lived inside these trees for centuries.
There was something more. Under this reflection she could see the form of the missing trees, as if they were still there. She looked up and away from the stump - no trees. But when she looked down again, there was no mistaking the image. They looked as real and solid as they ever had. While the reflection of the mountains looked flat like the image in a mirror, somehow the trees looked just as real and dimensional as the other sights around her. The trees had depth and form and seemed to grow away from her, as if she was in the root. Transfixed by the sight, she reached forward with her hand to see if they were for real. As her finger touched the surface something happened which she was not expecting - she saw a flash of light and heard a rush of music. If there had been anyone around to observe it, they would have seen the light flash all around her and return to the wooden table. Omid had vanished.
A
trip to the auction house
It was a beautiful morning in the country, but you wouldn't know it from looking at the three Bridger children. For six days their grumpiness had resisted the smell of fresh mown grass, the sound of barn owls at night, a fluttering parade of monarch butterflies and three fabulous sunsets. Nothing their Aunt Esther or Uncle Edward had brought to their attention seemed to have much effect on their mood, or could rally them to shake it off. Banished this day to the front porch so their aunt could "get some things done," Minda, Evie and Dallas suspected that she had simply grown tired of them, and at the moment they would be right. It was drizzling the day they had arrived at the farm and the weather hadn't yet left their faces. So there they sat on the porch swing, three sets of pale legs idly rocking back and forth, their general displeasure focused more-or-less on the hill beyond their uncle's workshop.
"It's not fair," said Minda, the oldest, meaning she was not happy at being stuck with the two younger children for a whole week, but not saying it.
Evie, thinking more generally, as she usually did, said with a sigh "Oh, it's not so bad Sissy. It is pretty here and Aunt Esther has been really nice to us. We even got ice cream last night, and we didn't really deserve it."
"I just want to do something," said Dallas, the youngest, but not by much. He was the only boy and usually the most cheerful of the bunch. Evie was not to be out-cheered always, however, and was often times the first to giggle. She was also usually the last to settle down. Dallas just thought she tended to be silly. Not today, though. Realizing the general attitude had been getting the best of him too he said, "You guys have been really cranky and I'm tired of it. I'm going on an adventure. Either of you want to stop grumping and go with me?" Dallas had started turning the corner with his attitude the day before. While the girls had moped around like usual, Dallas had snuck down to his uncle's workshop. He rummaged through barrels of old electronics, scavenging photocells from old calculators. With a soldering iron, he had rigged them up to a small computer fan. He intended to attach them to a Mylar balloon and try a test flight. He figured it would be warm enough by the afternoon.
"C'mon, girls, it's a great big place out here and there's bound to be something interesting to find," Dallas encouraged. Minda just crossed her arms a little tighter and frowned a little deeper at her brother's suggestion.
Evie looked back and forth between them for a moment and decided she'd have a better time of it away from the porch, at least for a while. "Sure Dal, I'll go with you." And off they went.
"How 'bout we're explorers out to catch a tiger in Africa and you can be the scout - I'll be the tiger wrangler" heard Minda as they ambled down the gentle slope of lush grass. Dallas picked up a straight stick about half his height and practiced a few moves bound to impress any sensible tiger.
"Tigers don't live in Africa, silly!" said Evie. Dallas knew this, of course, but it really wasn't important to the game he was inventing. And he didn't much appreciate the way she stopped to place her hands on her hips just so, like their mom would do when trying to make an important point.
Minda saw Evie's pose and thought the same thing. It brought on an unwelcome rush of feelings. This was the longest the three of them had ever been away from their parents and there was no telling how long they might be separated. She hadn't been told much, but she'd heard enough to know things were serious.
"They need to be away from here - at least for a while" she'd overheard her mother say to her father on one occasion. Minda had noticed her parents growing more edgy over the past month, and trying not to show it. She was a bright girl, however, and quick to read between the lines. She had a knack for reading body language, and her mother's fidgeting and busy-ness in the kitchen hadn't escaped her notice. The TV news seemed to get turned off any time the children entered the family room. Finally one day not long after school was out, her parents had set them all down to explain that Summer would be unusual, and how. Minda's expectations of sleepovers with her friends, holidays at the beach and special trips to the ballet and symphony with her mother were now unceremoniously canceled. It was an abrupt and thoughtless change of plans in Minda's opinion.
Three days later they'd left their home by the sea and been "dumped" with relatives they hardly knew. Good-byes had been awkward and hurried as her father was late for an airplane flight. Now he was "deployed" somewhere she'd never heard of and her mother had missed last night's call home. They'd had to leave their kisses and hugs on the answering machine. The truth was Minda missed her parents deeply, even as she groused. She was old enough to be worried about them, but not really sure why. She was afraid if she thought about it too hard, she'd burst into tears, so it was easier to just stay grumpy.
Her mood now thoroughly fouled, Minda looked up to see Evie and Dallas walking a narrow strip between the tree line and the pond, a few yards beyond the shop. An argument seemed to have erupted over how far a tiger could jump. Minda could see Dallas measuring how far he could jump with the clip-on tape measure he carried everywhere. He was trying to convince Evie that a tiger with twice as many legs and eight times his weight should be able to leap sixteen times as far. He paced it off to show his sister. Evie thought it was too big a leap for even the biggest tiger. They agreed to disagree then busied themselves with finding the perfect location for a tiger trap. After a few minutes of crashing through the brush they found a deep depression and began covering it with willow branches and loose leaves.
Behind her the voices of her Aunt and Uncle came wafting out of the kitchen on the first real breeze of the morning. "Any better, today?" Minda heard her Uncle say.
"Well, it is for me, at least." Her Aunt said. "I've managed to get them out of the house and onto the porch, and I'm finally tackling this pile of laundry. I haven't done loads like this since you were building the shop when your brother came to visit, and these kids haven't even started to get really dirty yet!"
"One of the hidden blessings in not having children, I suppose" said Edward Bridger, lightly touching on a subject that had once been painful, but one with which they'd both found their own peace. "Four hundred acres and they've stayed in the house for a week. They're never going to shake this funk if they don't get out and discover what a beautiful place it is."
"I know, but let's not push them too hard. The sudden change in plans has been a real shock to them. Maybe you can talk them into going to the auction with you this afternoon." Aunt Esther encouraged.
"That would be fine if they'll perk up a bit. At any rate, we need to get them further than the porch, or you and I'll be spending more quality time down at the shop."
"Well, you got your wish" said Minda, walking through the kitchen on the way to her room.
"Oh?" said her Aunt.
"They're down past the shop right now" and Minda flopped herself down on her bed to stare at the wall for a while.
"Well, that's a start!" said Uncle Edward, setting out to keep track of them, unaware that he was soon to be one trapped tiger. Aunt Esther walked over and tapped lightly on Minda's door. "What," came the flat reply.
After a moment debating how to approach it, Aunt Esther said, "I know you're not happy today young lady, but I will insist that you address your Uncle and me respectfully."
It was a firmer voice than Minda had yet heard from her Aunt. It startled her a bit, and reminded her of her better manners.
"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry." Minda said, putting aside her petulant tone. "I'm just so…"
"I know dear," said Aunt Esther. "Why don't we talk a little together this afternoon - just you and me? The younger ones will go with your Uncle on some errands, and you can help me with the snap beans I brought in this morning."
It was kitchen work, but Minda was none-the-less thrilled at the chance to do something without the other kids. She kept a lid on her new found enthusiasm and simply said, "That would be fine."
"OK then! You rest for an hour or so and then we'll get some lunch together. The door softly closed and Minda was left with her thoughts. She rolled over on her side to look at the filtered light sifting through the old wooden shutters painted many times over the years. Beyond them she heard a soft rush she'd come to know as the early summer breeze working its way through the stands of willow, elm, maple and cottonwoods that seemed to stretch forever beyond the green lawn of the farm. Even further out she could hear the faint chattering and squeals of laughter from her brother and sister and what sounded like the roars of a hoarse tiger. "A horse-tiger, now that's a silly thought" said Minda to herself. Unaware of how tiring a bad attitude can be, she unexpectedly drifted off to sleep.
●●●
Minda woke from a strange conversation with the horse-tiger, who had addressed her quite formally as "Princess Minda, the Knowing" which seemed perfectly suited to her within the dream. In that short moment between waking and sleep, where one is aware of both worlds, it didn't make any sense at all. Soon, as we all know, the waking world washes away most of a dream's details and Minda was left simply with a strange image to add to her collection of unexpected things she'd experienced this summer. "Just how strange will this summer become?" she mumbled to herself as she headed to the kitchen for a drink.
The sound of her brother explaining something excitedly - meaning loudly - brought her blinkingly back to the present as she reached the sink. "… and we got a whole bucket of them, Aunt Esther!" Dallas was saying with a young boy's volume of enthusiasm, and enthusiastic volume.
"From the looks of it, you might have brought back two buckets if the first hadn't ended up in your tummies! Do you still have any appetite left? There are sandwiches waiting," said Aunt Esther as she helped Dallas out of his raspberry-stained T-shirt. Both children nodded rapidly.
"Well, if raspberry juice is a good sun block, that belly won't be getting tan for a while… Both of you, off to the bathroom and scrub up as best you can, then straight back to the table."
Minda had to step quickly aside to avoid the minor stampede.
Not paying attention to Minda's presence in the room, Aunt Esther addressed her husband, and not a little firmly. "Edward, you know better than that!"
"Don't worry Essie. I made sure they didn't eat too much and it really lit the kids up to discover the patch. I couldn't rightly tell them "no" now, could I?"
"Are they any good?" asked Minda, picking through the dripping colander of raspberries and reminding them that she was in the room.
"Sure they are!" said her Uncle, moving over to the sink to inspect them with her. "The lighter ones may be a bit tart, but they're ripening up early this year; it's been so warm."
With that, Minda picked out a big reddish-black berry and popped it in her mouth. The burst of flavor really surprised her. She'd never had such ripe, fresh fruit. And they were never this big in the supermarket back home. "Wow!" she said.
"That's because they're magic!" said Dallas, scrambling up to the table with hands, fore-arms and elbows all still half wet.
"Excuse me?" said Aunt Esther.
"Yeah! We made them appear right in the middle of the forest!" said Evie making her way to her place at the table.
"And how, exactly, did you do that?" asked the now mildly perplexed, and suspicious, Aunt.
Evie said "Well, we were getting hungry after chasing the tiger - I mean Uncle Edward - and he said we were so far from the house we'd have to find our own food."
"With magic!" interrupted Dallas.
Aunt Esther was now looking a little cross at her husband again.
Hoping to derail any further misgivings in his wife, Mr. Bridger tried to explain, saying, "Oh, I just asked what they might like"
"And I said 'grilled cheese'," added Dallas, unaware that he was beginning to interrupt a bit much.
"Anyway," went on Uncle Edward "I simply said you might find magic fruit popping up in the forest if you really believed it."
"Next thing you know, we found these!" said Evie, pointing to the colander and bringing the explanation to a close.
Aunt Esther's expression hadn't changed much, and her husband quickly moved on to questioning the kids about their adventures in Tigerland. Minda ended up more interested in their overlapping stories than she expected. They all paused briefly to return thanks for the meal, and the next hour slipped quickly by as the younger children recalled their discovery of "all the things you wouldn't know were in the forest if you weren't snooping through it."
"There's even ferns in there, Sissy! Just like we saw at the zoo." Evie informed her sister. Dallas listed the more interesting bugs by color and size, and speculated on what a hungry tiger might find for lunch, boys and girls excluded. Minda found herself wishing she had gone with them after all, and decided to say "yes" next time.
Cleaning out the leaves from the remaining berries after lunch, Aunt Esther said to her eldest niece, "Looks like you and I have at least one Jell-O and a pie to make this afternoon."
"Do you think there's enough berries for both?" Minda asked.
"I reckon there will be, and if there's not, we'll just make a green bean Jell-O instead." That sounded exceedingly odd to a city girl, but Minda knew better than to speak the thought.
Seeing their sister getting to do something new, Dallas and Evie asked what they could do.
"You can help me in town this afternoon" Uncle Edward told them coming into the kitchen wearing his clean jeans and a fresh shirt. "We're going to an auction."
"What's a noction?" asked Dallas. He wasn't listening too closely.
"You'll see - there'll be lots of interesting old things."
"And magic?" asked Evie, inviting herself into the conversation with a twirl and a giggle. Apparently there was much twirling involved with magic.
"Well, it's not the circus, but you can never tell where magic will pop up, now, can you? Off to the truck, you two!" The children's shadows had left the doorstep before the screen door slammed shut.
Aunt Esther's eyes were burrowing into her husband again. "Edward, now is not the time to get the children all excited about magical things that don't exist." she whispered with some urgency, and waving her fingers about as she said it. "Lord knows there's enough craziness in the world right now. I don't want to see them hoping for things that just won't happen."
"They're children, Essie. Magic follows them wherever they go. They just need to learn to see it." With a peck on her forehead and a wistful smile, Edward was out the door, explaining to Dallas that he would have to ride inside the truck that they might all stay on the good side of the local constable.
Still brooding a bit, Aunt Esther made her way back to the kitchen table where Minda was having some difficulty with her bowl of beans. "Here hon, put your thumbs facing together like this and pop 'em on the spine, see?" Together they worked their way through two pounds of beans; Aunt Esther blurting out a high-pitched "Oh!" each time a seed would fly, and Minda giggling in surprise and amusement at her Aunt. Minda began to unburden herself to Aunt Esther's gentle questioning and she was soon thinking less of her own feelings, and becoming more aware of her surroundings. This was a happy place after all, she decided.
●●●
At about the same time, Mr. Bridger's truck pulled up to a large old stock barn at the edge of town. Through the giant open sliding doors, the children could see a number of people slowly making their own paths through large collections of furniture - some stacked three high - tools, implements and machinery. Moving from the bright sunlight to the dim light of the barn, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. As they did, the children were amazed at the volume and variety of odd and curious things all around them. It was like stepping into one of those big "I Spy" books. Dallas thought they could play that game in here to their complete satisfaction. But being able to explore the stuff seemed even better.
"Kids, this is Mr. Nickels. He runs the auction. Jim, these are my niece and nephew, Evie and Dallas," said their uncle, tapping each on the top of the head gently. "They've come up from the coast and they'll be staying with us for a time."
Mr. Nickels nodded soberly at that bit of explanation, then turned a big smile to the kids. "Hi guys - what kinds of things do you like?"
"Cars!" said Dallas without a second thought. "Fast ones!"
"Cars, of course," said Evie, rolling her eyes a bit, "but he likes planes too. After all, Daddy flies one. I like hair bows."
Mr. Nickels nodded thoughtfully for a moment. "You know, there's some old toys out back and a whole batch of things from a Five and Dime that just closed shop. I'll bet we can find some things in there that might interest Evie."
As they walked to the storage room behind a dusty platform, Mr. Nickels and Uncle Edward chatted. "Ed, I've got something back here you might want to look at. I don't think it's sellable, since it's pretty broken up. Pity really; you can tell some serious workmanship went into it. Looks like it was assembled without a single nail."
"What is it?" said Edward with growing curiosity.
"It looks like an old double cathedral door, or small city gate of some sort. It has a high center peak where the doors meet. Beautiful carvings too. I can't read the lettering - old Persian perhaps - but it would be interesting to learn what it says. The really funny thing is I can't tell what kind of wood it is. Closest I can make out it's some kind of oak, by the shape of the grain. But the color is really unusual."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Looks like the frame was dropped hard, or got shaken apart. Must have been a pretty heavy shake. Those timbers are not flimsy. From how dusty it was I imagine it was more recently stored in an old shed that fell in on itself. The right side bottom is all separated, and there are some broken boards on the left side. I thought you might be able to salvage the wood for another project."
"Where'd you find it?"
"Mr. Estleton brought it in from that place out past yours."
Of course , thought Edward. That crazy old botanist has collections of antique furniture and strange cultural objects from all over the world. It'll be interesting to hear the story behind this one…
The children wandered about the room as their uncle inspected each of the doors with Mr. Nickels. They were surprisingly large - big enough to make it awkward for any but the largest entries, but Edward could think of a couple custom projects that might be able to use it. Under the dust and water stains lay a dark mahogany finish that almost completely obscured the grain of the wood. The carvings were stunning. An exquisitely detailed relief of a grove of majestic trees occupied most of the foreground. On the lower panels was a pool of some sort and what looked like animals resting. Behind the trees were sharp mountain peaks.
"Looks like a real paradise," he said to no one in particular. It reminded him of things he'd seen in picture books as a child, but somehow much more alive and intense. "How'd you figure out what kind of wood it is?"
"Over here," said Mr. Nickels, "One of the long tenons or pins from the frame had fallen out, and I cleaned it up."
Mr. Nickels handed Uncle Edward a piece about a foot long, rectangular in cross section, about and inch and a half thick in one direction, a half inch in the other. It had no cracks and was without varnish or stain. Even without a finish, it shown smooth, almost shiny, was fairly hefty, and was comfortably warm to the touch. Stepping into a shaft of sunlight coming down from a crack in the barn's roof, Mr. Bridger spun the piece in his hands. An almost iridescent spray of colors seemed to shine off each line of the grain as it moved.
"Can I see it?" asked Dallas, dusting himself off from an exploration under a nearby table where he'd moved aside some boxes to make himself a secret fort. Uncle Edward handed it to him, amused at the serious face put on by his nephew as he studied it. "This is Rainbow Tree wood," he decided.
"Can't argue with that!" his uncle agreed. "Jim, is it all like this? I'd like to see more of the grain."
"It looks like the varnish is thinnest around the carvings in front. I've got some stripper here if you want to clean it up a bit." Mr. Nickels Replied.
"Would you mind?"
"Not a bit."
Mr. Nickels showed Uncle Edward to some rags, gloves, a bucket, a brush and "something to take the old finish off" as he explained it to the kids.
"It's going to get a bit smelly, so you'd best stay back a ways as I work on this. I can see some toys over there for you, Dallas. You can explore them and I think that's the stack Mr. Nickels was talking about for you, Evie. See if you can find a couple of things for you and your sister."
Dallas took the "rainbow stick" with him as he explored old wagons, tin toys and a set of marbles in an old leather pouch. Once he waved the stick at the scattered marbles, like he was taming the tiger earlier, and it looked like they all moved when he did, but he couldn't be sure. One thing he was sure of, however, was that the stick was making noise - music, really. He wasn't sure how, but it seemed to make a tone when he waved it about, and it rang a little like a bell when he tapped it on the floor. The tone was clear, but soft and perfectly in tune, like the last time the piano tuner taps a key before moving on to the next. More than a piano, however, the rainbow stick had a watery, singsong type of sound. You could imagine a tiny little orchestra finishing its warm up before a performance.
About this time, Uncle Edward had stepped away from the doors and asked them "Are you playing some music out here? Bells or something? It was getting pretty loud in here." Dallas looked down at his rainbow stick.
"Kids, I need to go talk with Mr. Nickels. If you find something you like just bring it up to me at the desk back in the main room."
Evie had found a few hair clips in her sister's favorite color, and some floofy hair bows that matched her favorite dress. She made her way to Mr. Nickels' desk a couple of minutes later. Dallas lay on the floor wondering about his rainbow stick, tapping it gently on the floor. He started to tap a rhythm, but not too fast. The sound, quiet as it was, was mysterious but soothing. He also became aware of another sound like rain, which seemed odd. It was a hot sunny day after all. He looked up at those arched and mysterious doors as he tapped his rainbow stick. A sound like small hail hitting the roof echoed back to him from that direction, but it was more musical than that.
He tapped again. Again, the echo, along with a bell sound. He also noticed a steady rainbow spray of light coming from, where? Behind the doors? Uncle Edward must have left a light on while he was working, He thought. From his angle off to the side, the light seemed to be shining out through the archway, so he reasonably assumed it must be a flashlight on the table behind it.
Dallas made his way to the doors to get the flashlight, for he'd always been told 'never to leave a flashlight burning, or you won't have light when you need it.' The sound of musical rain was stronger as he approached, but now it was more like a brook. No, Dallas finally decided, it was more waterfall or fountain that anything else. There was no flashlight behind the doors. Confused, Dallas stepped around to face the doors. He saw the light again, and it wasn't coming from a flashlight or lamp. What he saw was… himself! In the oval of the area his uncle had just cleaned was a mirror of sorts, but lighted from within and shining back at him. Every few moments the picture would quiver a bit.
As fixed as he was on what he was seeing and hearing, Dallas did not notice as he tapped his rainbow stick on the table beside him. A low bell chimed quite clearly and deeply, and Dallas imagined this is what it must be like standing inside a giant church bell when it was being softly rung. At the same time, the mirror quivered again and grew larger, encompassing more of the doorway. He tapped again, a little harder. The watery mirror grew again to fill the whole space, and as it grew, a moment passed when the mirror was replaced by a different scene. For the time it took the low bell sound to ring, Dallas could see a forest of strange, tall trees surrounding curious pools of water; some bubbling, some shooting like angled fountains into other pools, some calm and smooth as glass. The waters were tinted many different colors. The picture was at an odd angle like looking up and sideways at the same time, and made it uncomfortable to maintain one's balance. No sooner had the amazing image burned itself onto Dallas' mind, it disappeared, replaced by the watery mirror.
"Whoa!" was the boy's immediate response, followed by "This beats raspberry magic any day!" Then Dallas made a mistake, slowly reaching for the mirror, but doing so with the rainbow stick. As it touched the mirror, a flash like lightning threw him out of the doorway, and over the large table across the aisle. Landing hard in a bucket he crashed backwards into a display case and got a nasty bonk on the top of his head, knocking him out cold. In the moment his eyes were fading to purple, he could see the mirror in the doorway shrinking down to a pinpoint, blinking out along with him.
More
than they bargained for
"Is he bleeding?"…
"I don't think so."
"Careful now! Roll him over slowly. Is Doc Ennis out there?"
"Move back a little, give him some room!"
Dallas blinked open an eye and saw about six very serious faces staring down at his. The sight startled him so that he tried to sit up quickly. He thought better of it in a moment as the back of his head began to throb. He tried to lie down a little more slowly. Someone caught his shoulder and placed a jacket under his neck before he reached the floor again.
"What was he doing?"
"Climbing on the table is looks like… must've fallen off into that bucket."
"Dallas! Can you hear me?" It was Uncle Edward.
"Sure…" came the gravelly reply.
"Oh thank heavens…" Even with his eyes closed, Dallas sensed the people around him shifting. Next he felt two large, calloused hands holding the sides of his head.
"Son, I'm Dr. Ennis. Don't move anything. Can you look at me?" Dallas blinked both eyes open slowly and looked up at a weathered man in his fifties, with a thick gray mustache. From that first moment, Dr. Ennis would always be "the Walrus" in Dallas' mind.
"Oh, I'm fine sir. Just knocked my head I guess. I just need to get up."
Dr. Ennis' hands remained where they were and he said "First things first, young man. Follow my finger while I move it." Dallas had seen something like this on a police show once, and he began to fear he had done something wrong. So he obeyed this big man.
"His eyes are tracking fine," said Dr. Ennis. "Can someone fetch an ice pack? Now, Dallas, did you fall hard on anything else? Is your neck sore?"
"No sir, I'm fine… really." The embarrassment was beginning to set in. Here were ten or more people fretting over him for something he had apparently done, and done badly. Someone arrived with a plastic bag full of ice. Dr. Ennis wrapped it in one of the clean shop towels he found near the old doors and placed it gently on Dallas' head. With his other arm he slowly raised him up to a sitting position. Dallas could see Mr. Nickels standing behind the doctor looking concerned.
"Sorry to be a problem Mr. Nickels" said Dallas a little sheepishly.
Mr. Nickels smiled in his own sheepish way and shook his head slowly. "My fault, boy. I hadn't given you the standard 'don't climb on the furniture' speech I usually give. Every kid's a mountaineer in here."
"Oh, I wasn't climbing. I was looking at the doors," said Dallas, pointing to where his uncle had been working shortly before. A few concerned looks were exchanged between adults.
"Dallas, you apparently fell off the table. Do you remember how you got up there?" asked the doctor.
"No, I wasn't on the table. I was standing over there, right in front of the doorway when…" and Dallas caught himself in one of those awful moments an honest child faces - one where it seems completely foolish and useless to tell the truth, yet not wanting to tell a lie. "Yes, sir, I guess I do" was the best Dallas could come up with in his condition.
The other adults who had gathered seemed to understand that the commotion was over and began to head back to whatever had previously held their attention. Mr. Bridger and Evie moved closer in next to Dr. Ennis.
"I'll take that, Doc," said Uncle Edward, shifting the ice further back a bit and sitting down. Dr. Ennis stood back up and followed Mr. Nickels a few paces off to have a conversation.
Evie was looking most worried of all, and finally said "Dal, do you know how big the crash was? We thought the whole archway had fallen over on you!"
"It felt like it" he said, but didn't feel like he could even begin to explain. Not now, anyway.
"What am I going to tell his Aunt?" Dallas heard his Uncle muttering in the other direction.
"Oh, will I be punished for this? I really am sorry."
"No, no, son. Women can be just a bit stern when their men damage the children."
Dallas and Evie decided he was speaking about something that big people are supposed to understand, and didn't press for an explanation.
"Can we agree that there won't be any more climbing on things, at least?" said Edward, in a more pleading than scolding way.
"Yes, sir," said both children in unison. Their uncle stood up, placing one of Dallas' hands under the ice pack, and shaking off some of the fine dust from his knees.
"Very well then. I've got to finish up with Mr. Nickels and I reckon we should be heading home right away."
"We're not staying for the noction?" asked Dallas.
"I think we've had enough excitement for the day already, don't you?" Dallas didn't want to leave, but he had to admit that it would be good to lie down on a soft couch for a while.
"I guess…" said Dallas. Uncle Edward nodded once and walked off to Mr. Nickels' desk around the corner.
Evie, having already finished her treasure hunt before the commotion began, turned the corner in the conversation asking Dallas "Did you decide what you wanted to get? I got some really neat hair bows." Dallas thought for a minute, and then realized he hadn't even gotten around to really looking at any cars or other toys he might want. There was only one thing that came to mind, and he began to look around. "Well?" asked his sister.
"Just a sec…" said Dallas as he set aside the ice pack and began to crawl around under the table again. It didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. Turning back around toward the display case, he saw the end of the rainbow stick visible at the shadow line under the base. At least he thought it was the stick. When he pulled it out, it didn't look quite the same. It was the same shape and weight, but it was burnished a darker shade, almost pewter or gunmetal gray, slightly metallic. It seemed harder. He moved it to one of the shafts of light coming down from the high windows. A splash of rainbow color jumped off the grain, but it was more subtle or refined than before. He tapped it ever so slightly on the floor. Hello! This time it rang with an even clearer tone, somehow more serious and deeper. "Wow…" Dallas whispered to himself.
"What was that?" Evie asked. "Oh, nothing," Dallas quickly said and scrambled out from under the table with his find.
"You want a stick?" Dallas held it up to the light for her. "Oh! That's pretty!" she said, but still not understanding why he'd want it. Boys like sticks, I guess, she thought.
Dallas was determined to leave with his rainbow stick and was working on a way to convince his Uncle to get the archway with its doors too. He stepped back into the main room where Mr. Nickels' desk sat at the end of an antique counter.
"I guess we should settle up Jim. I need to get these kids home."
"What about the archway? Can you make use of it?"
"I don't know, I'll have my hands full with these guys this summer, so I'm not sure I want to jump headfirst into a big project."
"Oh wouldn't you?" said Dallas coming up behind him, thinking his uncle didn't know the half of it. Dallas had just gotten himself shot off like a cannon by jumping head first - or stick first - into that doorway. But he was determined to figure out the mystery of it. "Those doors are really neat, and I'd love to help you with it."
Uncle Edward could imagine what kind of "help" he'd get in his shop with this tornado at his heels. "I don't know…" he said, trying to think his way out of the situation without disappointing the boy.
"All I want is the rainbow stick we found earlier and Mr. Nickels may not let me have it if we don't get them together." It was the best case Dallas was going to make.
Mr. Nickels said "Wouldn't want to break up a set now, would we?" helping as best he could.
"How much?" Mr. Bridger said, reluctantly.
"Tell you what: There's a lot of wood from the support beam you probably won't use. If you have some scraps left over, just make the wife a little cabinet or something - How's that?"
"Jim, I can't rightly take it for nothing."
Mr. Nickels screwed his face up in mock disgust and waved him down. "Please, what are old friends for? And I'm sure these guys will be great helpers. Besides, I could use the floor space."
Mr. Nickels winked at Dallas. Dallas gave him a private thumbs-up.
●●●
Fifteen minutes and six people later, the doors and the arch pieces were lashed to the Bridgers' truck, overflowing the tailgate. It was going to be a careful, slow ride home. Uncle Edward was already trying to figure out how he was going to get them out once they arrived. That oak had proved a lot heavier than expected. The whole way home, you would have thought Dallas was a proud seaman towing home a world-record prize fish. Edward was beginning to think his nephew was a bit stranger than average, or that the bump on the head had been more serious than originally thought.
He finally asked, "Dallas, why did you want those doors so much?"
"Because they're magic!" was the reply, full of wonder and without any silliness.
NOW I'm in trouble, thought his Uncle with a sigh…
Looking out the kitchen window, Aunt Esther saw the truck lumbering slowly up the drive, past the house on its way down to the shop. The children were waving as they went past. The truck was back much sooner - and much heavier - than she'd expected. What is that monstrosity he's found? she thought. She saw her husband alight from the truck, remove his hat and look things over for a moment. From the size of it, it looked like this unloading was going to be a production. Aunt Esther called to Minda who was sorting radishes on the porch, and together they carried down a picnic basket with sections of still-warm raspberry pie, a jug of sun tea, and a thermos of cold creamy milk from the neighbor's dairy. Minda had never seen milk with foam on it before, and it took a couple of minutes to fill up the thermos.
By the time they reached the shop, Mr. Bridger was maneuvering a gambrel and hoist over the top of the heaviest pieces. He had built the shop tall enough to park large machinery inside, and had installed the hoist on sliding rails to move larger heavy items. It came in handy now. The children and Aunt Esther watched as her husband threw a large strap around the first door and snugged it up. He made sure the children were clear before he attempted to lift with the cable. Slowly and creakingly, the back springs of the truck un-flattened themselves, and the first door was suspended a couple of inches off the bed. Next he backed the load away from the bed and moved a large piano dolly under the load, then slowly lowered the hoist, trying not to rock it too much. The door settled on the dolly with a slight groan, and Uncle Edward carefully rolled it to the corner along the back wall before he disconnected the cable. Using a hand truck, he pried one side of the door, Dallas rolling out the dolly. He repeated the process with the other pieces, then parked the pickup. With a face and back beginning to show the effort, he sat down on a stool to wipe his brow and take a large gulp of the ice tea Minda offered him.
They all dug into the pie while standing around the central worktable.
"What's this I hear about a fall?" Aunt Esther was asking Dallas, but looking at her husband.
Dallas just shrugged and said, "Oh, it was nothing" and took another big bite.
Uncle Edward said, "Mr. Adventure, here, discovered that superpowers don't stop display cases from being hard." He was still trying his best to keep things light, but it seemed to be getting more difficult. "At any rate, Doc Ennis happened to be there, looked him over and decided he just had a mild case of 'boy-itis.' He'll be tender on the noggin' for a day or two, nothing more."
Aunt Esther decided not to pursue it further, to her husband's relief.
"What do you plan to do with this… thing?" asked Aunt Esther. It surely won't fit anywhere in our house."
"I don't plan to restore all of it, Ess. I thought I'd use the wood from the arch and casing and make a bookshelf or something. The doors are too pretty to break up. Maybe I'll find a custom builder who could use them. The wood is beautiful, and really unusual."
Don't I know it! thought Dallas.
●●●
It was still two hours till supper time, and the children were itching to do some more exploring. Having finished the crumbs of their pie, and thanking Aunt Esther for it, all three of them started off for the dock at the pond. Evie and Dallas wanted to show Minda some of the fish they'd seen on the way back from their earlier tiger hunting adventure.
"Not so fast, mister!" called Aunt Esther after her nephew. "You had a nasty knock on the head today, and you're going to rest a bit before supper." The horror and dejection on his face were almost complete. "And that face isn't going to help anything either. Let's get some rest now, and we'll see how the evening goes." With his head hung low, Dallas slowly marched out of the shop, grabbing his rainbow stick on the way. He made his way to the house not saying anything until he reached the porch.