Tag Archive: Middle-earth
In the Company of Angels, Episode 10.2 – The Chase (cont.)
“There may possibly be a way we can narrow down which is the more likely of the paintings,” said the Professor. “Some of these might never appeal to a raven, although I’m not sure I’m any judge. At least let’s gather them all together in one place so that we can see how many we have to choose from.”
The suggestion struck them all as sensible, so they carefully looked through the attic. Every painting that was visible and that might easily have allowed the raven to escape through it was brought to the spot where the Orbaratus painting was propped against the wall. When they were done, they had seven total paintings collected.
“Did you store all of these here yourself?” asked Sam.
“Yes, but it has been over quite a few years,” said the Professor. “I’ve lived here since the 1920s, and although I very much enjoy paintings, I do like to shuffle them around once in a while so that I can see them anew.
“This one, for instance, is of a little town in the Cotswolds that I enjoy visiting on occasion. I don’t recall who the artist was; I believe I purchased it at the town market one weekend.
“This next one is a reproduction of a Matisse still life. You may not have seen it before; it was one of his earlier paintings.”
“I don’t think he’d fly there,” said Jill, “I can’t imagine he’d be attracted to a vase with sunflowers in it.”
“You’re probably right, my dear,” said the Professor, “but this next one might be of interest….”
The Professor indicated a small but very colorful painting of what appeared to be a rather friendly-looking dragon coiled around the trunk of a tree. The dragon was reddish gold in color, and the treetrunk around which it had wrapped itself was a deep blue: almost black. The tree had beautiful silver leaves and yellow fruit hanging from it. Beyond the dragon’s tree there were other trees of varying hues. The ground was copper-coloured.
“What a strange painting!” said Jill.
“Yes it is. It was done by one of my students: quite a talented painter. He was trying to depict a scene I had written into one of my stories.”
“Oh! I didn’t know you were a writer as well as a Professor!” said Jill.
“Yes, I am, but only in my spare time. What do you both think about this next one over here?”
And so they looked through each of the seven paintings, ultimately narrowing them down to four that were the most likely to have attracted the bird. But each of these was a portal into an entire world! There were three that were set in the open countrysides of England and Ireland, plus the painting of the world with the dragon. They were at a loss, at that point, as to how to proceed.
It was just as they were each puzzling over the four that Jill heard, very faintly, the sound of a flute. But it wasn’t a flute exactly, and it took her a few moments to realize that she had heard it before.
“Do you both hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?” asked Sam.
“Something like a flute. It’s very faint.”
They all listened.
“I can hear nothing, my dear,” said the Professor, “but my hearing is likely not as keen as yours.”
“I don’t hear anything either,” said Sam. “But where do you think it’s coming from?”
“Let me see,” said Jill. She listened intently and began to walk away from the paintings. The sound diminished. She returned to the paintings and it became louder once more.
“It’s definitely coming from one of these,” she said, pointing to the paintings.
“Which one?” asked the Professor.
Jill held her head close to each painting in turn, finishing with the one of the dragon. “This one,” she said, “it’s definitely coming from there.”
First the Professor, then Sam bent down next to the painting and listened.
“I got nothin’,” said Sam. “But, if you’re sure it’s coming from this one, I’ll be happy to go through and see whether there’s any sign of the raven on the other side.”
Jill listened once more. “It’s definitely coming from there,” she said.
“Alright then. The sound could mean nothing, or it could mean everything. But we’ve got nothing better to go with at this point.
“This is a pretty small painting; I should just be able to squeeze through; but that might end up being a good thing. If I’m able to find the raven, I may be able to scare it into returning. Professor, do you have that blanket still in your office?”
“Yes…Ah! You want us to wait here, and if the bird comes through, toss the blanket over it?”
“Exactly. That may not be necessary, because this may not be the right painting. But….” Sam looked hard at Jill, “Mr. Luke told me to trust you, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
The Professor retrieved the blanket, being careful not to leave the hatchway open for longer than a moment, and then they all clustered around the dragon painting. Because it was so small, Sam had to get on the floor and wriggle through.
“OK, here goes. Keep your crystal touching your skin; that may allow you to see the raven coming if I’m able to scare him back in this direction. Oh, wait, before I go, let’s turn these other paintings against the wall. That way if you aren’t able to catch him with the blanket, he won’t have any other worlds to fly off into.”
They turned the other paintings around, and Sam got down on his stomach and wriggled through the glowing frame. They could still see him briefly whilst they looked through the frame from the attic, but then he was gone.
“By Jove!” said the Professor. “I would so love to try that!”
. . .
When Sam tumbled out of the portal, he landed on a soft, spongy surface. He stood up, brushed the attic dust off of himself, and turned to make sure of the frame’s location. He saw it suspended in space at about the same height as his own eyes above ground level. But as he looked at it, he started to feel slightly disoriented.
“That’s not right,” he said aloud, “I don’t ever get frame fatigue!” Then he realized that it wasn’t the framerunning itself that was troubling him. The ground itself appeared to be gently rising and falling, as if he was standing upon some huge raft that was being lifted on great ocean swells. He looked around him. Just past the portal he could see what looked like a distant golden sea. The sky was golden as well.
Sam turned back to look again at the dragon. “I forgot to ask the Professor if you were friendly or not,” he said aloud. “I’m hoping that if you’re not, he would have thought to mention it.”
Sam looked up at the branches of the tree around which the dragon was wrapped. It wasn’t very large, and the other trees around him weren’t either. That was good, he thought, because it likely meant that the raven, if it had come this way, wouldn’t be able to perch so far up that he couldn’t reach it.
Sam looked more closely at the fruit hanging from the tree, and it occurred to him that he might be able to pick some of these and throw them at the raven if he found him; that was just as well, since there didn’t appear to be any stones on the ground that he could use for such a thing. Instead, there was some sort of coppery-looking weedy stuff that almost looked woven together. He couldn’t see anything like sand, or soil, or rocks anywhere.
He put his hands on his hips. “Didja happen to see a big black bird flying through here recently?” he asked the dragon. After all, he thought, he couldn’t be sure whether the creature could speak or not. If it was Middle-earth or some other Iconic Realm he was familiar with, he’d know, but this world was new to him.
The dragon seemed uninterested in his words at first, but then it uncoiled itself and started waddling away from him on the forest floor, moving ever deeper into the woods. The creature was only about the size of a largish dog, so it was soon lost to sight.
Sam shrugged and followed. He occasionally had to grab hold of one of the tree trunks as he walked, since the land would occasionally rise up and then fall back down again. He could tell that these were almost certainly ocean swells, because at times, when he looked back, he thought the distant sea appeared to be down a fairly steep slope, but at other times he lost sight of it completely. He assumed that meant that the land had dropped below sea level, as crazy as that might seem..
“Weirdest thing I’ve ever heard of,” he muttered, looking back. When he turned back around to continue following the dragon, he nearly tripped over the creature, which had ceased its waddling.
The dragon had come to rest at the base of one of the many fruit trees and was slowly winding itself up the indigo-coloured tree trunk. Sam peered into the branches and saw something black.
It was the raven.
The raven was eyeing the dragon nervously. Sam walked past the tree and then reached up and picked several of the yellow gourd-like fruits that dangled from an adjacent tree. The smaller ones he stuffed into his pants pocket, but the larger ones he held in readiness. He turned then and watched the raven. The dragon had now gripped the tree tightly and was, serpent-like, gliding ever closer to the bird’s perch.
The raven flapped its wings nervously. Sam thought he could still saw the crystal in its talons. He took aim with one of the gourds and threw it. It landed with a splat on the branch next to the raven, and that was just enough to startle it into taking flight. Sam saw the crystal it was holding in its talons drop to the ground, and he started shouting loudly and waving his arms as he stooped to retrieve it.
The raven circled the tree once, but didn’t dare get near Sam, and as soon as Sam had the crystal stuffed into his pocket, he began throwing more of the yellow fruit at the bird, trying to frighten it back toward the portal.
His plan worked.
The raven, unnerved by the dragon and then by Sam’s unforgivably rude behavior, decided it had had enough of this place. It circled the tree one last time, and then wheeled back toward the edge of the forest. Sam followed after it as fast as he was able, only occasionally losing his balance as the ground continued to dip and heave beneath him. Soon both he and the raven had returned to the dragon’s tree, and Sam saw his quarry tuck in its wings and glide right into the dark portal.
“Gotcha now!” he cried triumphantly. He then ran headlong after the bird and dove through the frame and into the darkness of the Professor’s attic.
In the Company of Angels, Episode 4.2 – The Empath (cont.)
“Take it off! Take the ring off!” she heard Mr. Luke say to her, as if from a great distance, but Jill could not move. Then strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders, and she realized that Polydora was holding her up. Immediately she felt calmed, and she heard the most beautiful singing, high and sweet, that seemed to be coming from the rafters above them. Polly had turned Jill around, had kneeled before her, and was holding her up and peering into her eyes.
Jill looked into the Ferrumari’s face and heard a voice in her head say “Those are the ones that were lost, but they are not sad voices. They are voices of joy; echoes from the times long before I was born. Do you understand?”
Jill shook her head. “Not really. But…I’ll be OK. I just need a moment….”
“Sorry,” she said, looking up at Mr. Luke and Sam. “It was just getting used to the ring, I think.”
“No, it was a lot more than that. Polly, do you think she’ll be alright in Orbaratus?”
“Yes, if I am with her. As I said, she sees very far, and she may soon come to sense the presence and emotions of those around her as well as can I.”
“You mean,” asked Jill, “you mean you’re an Empath too?”
“Of course,” said the voice in her head. “That is how I sensed what you were thinking and feeling.” Polly smiled.
“But I can’t do that,” said Jill.
“Can’t do what?” asked Sam.
“Hush, Sam,” said Mr. Luke.
“But, you already are!” thought Polly. “You’re doing it now!”
Jill looked at Polly, wide-eyed. “OK, let me try this…” said Jill.
“Try what?” asked Sam.
“Hush, Sam!” said Mr. Luke.
“Can you hear me?” thought Jill, looking directly at Polly.
Polly nodded and smiled, “Of course!” she thought back.
“Well, that’s a first!” she said aloud.
“What’s a first?” asked Sam. Mr. Luke clapped his hand over Sam’s mouth.
“But, Polly,” thought Jill, “if I can understand what you’re thinking, why can’t I understand what anyone else is thinking?”
Jill heard a tinkling sound in her head that she recognized as Polly’s laughter. “Because, little one, you’ve not tried to! And because it is always easier to read the thoughts of another Empath than of anyone else, provided, of course, that the Empath is allowing you to do so.”
“Oh!” said Jill aloud. She closed her eyes and rubbed them.
“What’s going on, Mr. Luke?” asked Sam, clearly confused.
“Something you’ve never seen before, Samuel, nor I, and something you should remember and cherish; you may never live to see it again! Jill is learning a new thing about herself, a wonderful thing. You remember when you first discovered that you were a Navigator?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, this is like that, only more so.”
“Oh!”
While Sam and Mr. Luke were talking, Polly and Jill had been silent, gazing at each other.
“Polly?” said Mr. Luke after a few moments, “I know I’ve asked already, but are you sure Jill will be alright in Orbaratus?”
There was a long pause while Jill and Polly appeared to be chatting with each other, then Jill said “Yes, Mr. Luke. Polly was already telling me about her world, and I would really like to see it for myself.”
Sam shook his head. “So now you can read minds?!”
“No,” said Jill, “not yours. But Polly says that will likely come in time.”
“Sheesh! Bad enough having to watch my mouth, now I’m going to have to watch my thoughts too?!”
“You’ve not done so around me thus far,” said Polly, smiling. “Why should you have to do so with your friend?”
“It’s…it’s different with Jill…” Sam said, sulkily.
“Well, we can sort such things out later,” said Mr. Luke. “But now, if we’re all agreed, let’s go explore another world….”
Mr. Luke went behind a curtain nearby and emerged wearing the duster coat that he had been sporting when Jill first discovered him in her library. He also had brought two short, grey, hooded cloaks with him. “It’s not really that cold on Orbaratus,” he said as he handed one cloak to Sam and the other to Jill, “but it can be a bit damp and windy. These will serve to keep you warmer and drier while we’re there.”
The four of them then gathered before the painting. “Everyone please make sure your skin is in contact with your crystal,” said Mr. Luke.
Jill clenched her fist and felt the sting of electricity. Then came the wash of emotions and the sound of singing from the painting once more. But whether it was because she was prepared for it this time or because Polly had her hand on her shoulder, Polly found that she was now able to bear it.
“Is everyone ready?” Mr. Luke asked, looking pointedly at Jill.
Jill nodded.
“Then hold onto you hats!” said Sam. With that, he jumped, with both feet, straight at the painting. Jill saw him one moment, and in the next he was gone. She gasped involuntarily.
“You two next, Polly,” said Mr. Luke.
Polly stepped forward without hesitation and strode into the painting, stooping to fit her head and wings through it. She kept Jill’s hand grasped firmly in her own. Jill followed her, hesitating only for a moment. Once through, her feet crunched on something like gravel and she felt a cool, wet breeze blowing through her hair.
Jill looked around her. The silver skies above were racing with clouds, and the cliff-like buildings towered on all sides. Polydora was still holding her hand, but the Ferrumari stood just ahead of her, gazing at a particular spot high atop of one of the buildings.
Sam stood before them both grinning. “Whatcha think?” he said.
Jill felt quite disoriented — dizzy, and even slightly sick to her stomach. She turned around just in time to glimpse Mr. Luke stepping up behind her. Just past where he stood she could still see the lights and the desk of the Gallery. Jill leaned to one side of Mr. Luke to see it better and realized that the window, if one could call it that, was simply hanging in space. She let go of Polly’s hand and stepped back toward it. She opened her hand and reached out to touch the edges of the bright frame, but as soon as she did so, it vanished, and she was staring at the empty landscape of Orbaratus. She pulled back her hand, startled.
“It’s still there, you know,” said Mr. Luke. “Close your hand upon the crystal again.”
Jill clenched her fist, and immediately the frame reopened in space before her.
“It will remain here for us to use when we return,” said Mr. Luke, “but no one can see it or use it without one of the sapphires.”
Jill continued to look throughthe portal for a moment, and then she relaxed her hold on the sapphire. The view from her own distant world dissolved away, but not before she thought she caught a glimpse of something, or someone, moving in the background of the vanishing image. She was about to mention this to Mr. Luke, but in the Orbaratan light, she saw that he was very pale. “You don’t look so good, Mr. Luke. Are you alright?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, he’s always that way after a run,” said Sam, stepping up beside her. “But, how are you feeling…OK?”
“I think, so. A bit woozy, I guess.”
“Yeah, just like Mr. Luke. Here, have some chocolate.” Sam gave her a chocolate bar, and after eating a few bites, Jill began to feel better.
“I thought that only worked in Harry Potter books,” she said.
“Naw. I think J.K. Rowling must have known someone in the Order and stolen the idea. Chocolate seems to help if framerunning an image ever makes you feel woozy. I hardly ever do, but I keep some with me just in case, and you should too.”
“Well, we’re not all Navigators, Samuel,” said Mr. Luke, who was likewise now munching on a chocolate bar.
“Why do you call Sam a ‘Navigator’, Mr. Luke?” asked Jill.
“Because that’s his special talent, just as yours appears to be that of an Empath.”
“But what does it mean to be a Navigator?”
“It means that Sam is very adept at framerunning. He can do it all day long without getting tired or disoriented, and in fact, he has a special ability to sense the existence of frames, or portals, even without the aid of a crystal. Also, he can use mirrors to move from one place to another, something that we call “mazerunning”, without ever losing his sense of direction. That is an ability that you and I do not possess; we would likely find it nearly impossible to mazerun on our own without becoming hopelessly confused, and perhaps even end up getting lost in the Maze for good.”
“So that’s how Sam got out of our house last night? Through the mirror?”
“Yes, apparently, although I’ve not heard all the details yet. He found his way back to his own house without ever going outdoors. I quite envy him the time he can save instantly getting from one place to another when the need arises….”
“So you aren’t a Navigator yourself, Mr. Luke?”
Sam snickered.
“Ahem!” said Mr. Luke, scowling at Sam. “No, Jill. Nor am I am Empath like you and Polly. I’m a Renderer.”
“That’s a fancy name for an artist,” said Sam.
“There’s a lot more to it than that, but the description is certainly close enough for our purposes,” said Mr. Luke. “That said, right now….”
Mr. Luke looked past Jill.
“…right now, we need to find out what Polly is so fixated on….”
Jill turned around. Polly had not joined in their conversation; she had remained looking fixedly up at the top of one of the cliff-like buildings. She was completely still and silent, and once more Jill thought she could easily have been mistaken for a statue. But Jill could almost feel Polly listening; listening intently not only with her ears, but with all of her empathic senses.
“What is it, Polly?” Jill asked, stepping forward and putting her hand in that of the Ferrumari.
“Can’t you feel it?” Polly spoke to Jill in her mind.
“What, Polly?” Jill thought back.
“Someone else is here. Here, on Orbaratus.”
“But, I thought you said your home was deserted; that no one else lived here but you…?”
“That was true, little one,” thought Polly, “but it is so no more. Someone is up there.” Polly swept her long arm upward and pointed at the cliff tops. “Someone, or something….”
In the Company of Angels, Episode 4.1 – The Empath
Jill stood up and turned fully around so that she could see Polydora more clearly. But what a being! The graceful-looking woman stood nearly seven feet tall and appeared to be made entirely of silver. There was no fixed color to her other than the reflections she cast, but her shape was clearly feminine. She appeared to be wearing a tunic or robe, richly engraved with strange symbols. But the wings! These Jill could only see partially, as their tops framed Polydora’s head, almost halo-like. They, too, were bright, shining silver.
Polydora stood entirely still; Jill could scarcely believe, at first, that she was a living creature at all.
“P-pleased to meet you Ms…uh…Ms. Polydora,” said Jill.
The statue’s lips moved, and Jill heard a tinkling sound that she recognized quickly as a sweet laughter. “I am delighted to meet you, Miss Jill,” said the statue.
Polydora nodded her head graciously and then stretched out a long arm toward Jill. Jill reached out to shake hands, but was quickly unsettled; Polydora had six delicate, slender fingers, the outer two of which were thumbs, so that their first handshake was one of those moments that most brought home to Jill the fact that she was not in the presence of a human being.
“Polly,” said Mr. Luke, “is the keeper of the Gallery, our secretary, our computer, our filing system, and, especially, our hostess, all rolled into one,” said Mr. Luke. “If there is anything of grace and beauty here in the Gallery, it is entirely due to her.”
Polly turned toward Mr. Luke, placed her palms together, and bowed.
“But, Ms. Polydora…?” asked Jill
“Yes, Miss Jill?”
“If it’s not impolite to ask, what are you? I’ve never met anyone like you before, nor even read of anyone like you. Are you an angel?”
Polly laughed in her chime-like tones. “Dear child! It is true that I resemble what you might call an angel, but I am of the Ferrumari, and I come from a world called Orbaratus.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jill.
“Perhaps I can explain it to Jill, Polly. And while I do so, would you be so kind as to retrieve the landscape of your world so that we can share it with her?” asked Mr. Luke.
Polly bowed, and then, to Jill’s great delight, she spread her silver wings and rose glittering into the air above them. Then she banked steeply and swept into the darkness beyond the railings. The gale from her departure blew through Jill’s hair, and she finally understood the source of the fluttering sounds that she had heard since arriving at the Gallery; they had been Polly’s wings.
Mr. Luke ushered Jill back to the table. As she and Sam sat, Mr. Luke began pacing back and forth before them.
“Polly,” he began, “is the last of her kind. Her home world, Orbaratus, is deserted. All of her people, save her, were destroyed in great wars thousands of years ago, and she lives here and helps us in our work because she has no other family.”
“How sad!” said Jill, “But what were the wars about? And how did she survive them?”
“I’m not sure of all the details, and Polly does not like to dwell on a past that is so painful. But we do know that a race of creatures instigated the wars on her planet; creatures that invaded it from another world.
“I’ve said, Jill, that we, as Framerunners, can visit other realms, both in space and in time. But so, apparently, can others, although their manner of travel is not entirely understood by us. But, many thousands of years ago, an army whose members are sometimes called the Amenta appear to have made their way to Orbaratus. There they found the Ferrumari, a sentient species of servant beings whose creators had long since become extinct. The Amenta have no fixed form; they are what we might call ‘spirits’.”
“’Spooks’ is what I call ‘em,” said Sam.
“Yes, that is Samuel’s preferred term,” said Mr. Luke, “but whatever you might call them, they are dangerous creatures. They persuade and bully others, binding them into a form of slavery. Thus they goaded some of the weaker of the Ferrumari people into instigating wars of power and domination, and these grew in intensity as each of the Ferrumari chose either to uphold peace and harmony, or to ally themselves with those who sought power.
“In the end, much of Orbaratus was laid waste, and all of the Ferrumari destroyed. The Amenta victory was complete, save for Polydora. She was a newborn at the time of the Orbaratan apocalypse and was secreted away by her parents. When she was old enough to leave the haven they had provided for her, all she found left of Orbaratus was a desolate planet devoid of all life.
“But, such are the Ferrumari that even then, Polly did not despair, but rather learned all that she could about her people from those resources available to her: ancient histories and legends, tales of other worlds, poetry, and art left behind not only by the Ferrumari, but also by the race that had brought the Ferrumari into being, about whom we know little. Many of these treasures had survived, you see, in the rubble of the libraries, galleries, and museums. But Polydora’s parents had also provided her with books and paintings of her own so that she could learn as she grew.”
“Almost like my library!” said Jill.
“Precisely!” said Mr. Luke. “And as Polly read the stories of her people, she nurtured her own belief that no creature could ever be truly alone forever in the universe. And her hopes of meeting other intelligent beings were fulfilled at last when some of our own forebears visited Orbaratus. They did this by framerunning a landscape painting of her home; the very one that Polly is bringing to show us. That was her first physical contact with any other living creature.
“But…now you can see for yourself what Polly’s home looks like; here she comes with the painting….”
Polydora fluttered delicately to the floor of the platform. In her arms she held an image painted on a wood-like panel that stood nearly six feet tall. Mr. Luke mounted it upon an easel and Sam focused a floodlight upon it so that it was fully illuminated. Jill saw an alien landscape in silvers, purples and greens. Beautiful metallic structures were built into the sides of cliffs, or perhaps, Jill thought, the cliffs themselves might actually be buildings; it was impossible to say for sure.
There were signs of great violence and decay in the painting, despite its beauty: rubble in the streets; damaged windows; gaping holes in walls; dead vines creeping into cracks in the buildings. But the overall impression remained ethereal and, oddly, lyrical. The landscape and structures, like Polydora herself, were largely made of shining, metallic materials that caught the light and reflected it in graceful curves. Despite the metal, the impression was not of a cold and impersonal place, but of a great but ruined civilization. Even without any living creature depicted, there was something organic and achingly beautiful about the world.
But Jill also felt an emptiness, a loss, and the long flow of time that must have passed since this city had fallen into ruin. She no longer had Sam’s crystal in hand, but she could almost hear the wind sighing through the city streets and feel how hard it must have been for anyone to have survived there – alone. All that beauty, all that history, but none to share it with. Jill felt a lump rise in her throat.
“I believe you like my home,” said Polly to Jill. Jill jumped slightly. She had been so captivated by the painting that she had not noticed Polly step up beside her. Polly gently grasped Jill’s hand and squeezed it.
Jill looked up to answer her and noticed tears in the eyes of the Ferrumari.
“Yes, I like it very much,” she said, “very much indeed….”
Polly squeezed Jill’s hand again, but then turned her head toward Mr. Luke. “This one sees far.”
“Really? How far, Polly?”
“Farther than any I’ve met other than Azarias.”
“Is she a Renderer, then?”
“No, an Empath.”
“An Empath?!!! Holy smoke!!!” Sam blurted out.
“Are you sure, Polly?” asked Mr. Luke.
Polly nodded.
Jill looked up at her, and then at Mr. Luke. “What does that mean, Mr. Luke? I know what ’empathy’ means – it’s kind of like the ability to share someone else’s experiences and emotions – but that’s not what you’re talking about here, is it?”
“No, Jill, it’s not. It’s a term we use to describe a particular talent – a very rare talent – that some very few of our Order have possessed over the years. If Polly is correct – and I can say in all honesty that I have never known her to be otherwise – you may have a skill that we have needed for some time, one that could help us in our work should you wish to join us.
“But, we can discuss all of this later. Polly says you like the look of her world. How would you like to visit it?”
“You mean, right now?!”
“Certainly! Polly, might I persuade you to come with us? I know it may be difficult for you, but there is so much that you can explain better to Jill than can Sam or I.”
Polydora looked longingly at the painting, and then back toward Jill. “I will come.”
“Thank you. I know what returning to Orbaratus may cost you….” said Mr. Luke.
“Two firsts in one day,” mumbled Sam.
“Hush, Sam. Now, let me retrieve two extra crystals, and we’ll be off.” Mr. Luke returned to the desk Jill had seen when she first entered the Gallery, and stepped to the wall on one side of the door. He pushed aside the curtain, and Jill saw a flash of gold as he opened a cabinet door. He returned with two rings; a small one for Jill, and a larger one for Polly.
“Now, these can be kept on your finger at all times, because the crystal is not usually in direct contact with your skin. But, when we framerun, you can turn the jewel around and close your hand shut; then you’ll feel the crystal’s surface against your skin. Try it now.”
Jill put on the ring and felt nothing. But then she did as Mr. Luke said: she turned it around on her finger so that the plain silver band was facing outward, and clenched her hand shut.
She immediately felt the electrical tingling, but then an enormous flood of emotion filled her, almost knocking her to the ground. She turned and stared at the painting of Orbaratus, which was now glowing in a truly unearthly light. The feelings she had had before; of beauty and harmony, but also of loss, of heartbreak, and of pain, were amplified a thousandfold. Motes of light swam before her eyes and she hardly noticed that she was in danger of falling.
“Take it off! Take the ring off!” she heard Mr. Luke say to her, as if from a great distance….
In the Company of Angels, Episode 2.2 – Rusty’s Big Adventure (cont.)
“What do you mean, ‘fell through the painting’?” asked Jill.
“Just what I said! Rusty found a piece of jewelry on the bookshelf and said he was going to keep it. I told him that was stealing, and he needed to put it back where he found it. Then I tried to take it from him so that it wouldn’t get lost, but he pushed me away. And that’s when it happened! He fell against the picture over there…” Kate pointed again at the picture, which was a large poster-sized fairy tale scene of a castle on an island surrounded by the sea. “And then he just…he just toppled backward, as if he was falling out of a window!!!”
The three stood silently, looking at the picture.
Sam bent toward Jill and whispered into her ear “Jill, you need to get Kate out of here for a minute or two. I’ll find Rusty.”
Jill looked hard at Sam. He nodded at her and pointed his thumb at the door.
“Kate, maybe something else happened…? Maybe Rusty is hiding or something. Let’s go see if he’s somewhere else in the house…you know, maybe he managed to slip out of sight somehow and is trying to play a trick on us. It would be just like him….”
“But, I know what I saw Jill! He couldn’t have left the room without my seeing him!”
“I believe you! But even so, we don’t want to get Aunt Cathy and Uncle Chris worried unless we’re sure, right?”
“I guess not,” conceded Kate.
The two girls left the room, and Jill gave Sam a questioning look as they left, but he just shook his head.
Jill and Kate looked in the closets for Rusty, and then in the living room and under the couch. Jill tried to take as much time as she could, hoping that Sam might know something about Rusty’s whereabouts that she did not. Finally, when the girls had exhausted all the possible hiding places downstairs (other than the dining room, since they didn’t want to alarm the adults just yet), Jill heard voices coming from the library, and the two returned there.
“Look, don’t you think maybe you just hit your head…?” they heard Sam saying as they walked in.
Rusty was shaking his head violently “Did not! Did not!”
“Well then, Rusty, why don’t you tell everyone what did happen?” Sam replied.
“But you were there! You came in and got me!” Rusty yelled. Sam said nothing.
“We were both right in there!!” Rusty yelled, pointing at the painting of the castle. “He just came in and pulled me back out again! We were on the beach! And there was water, and birds, and a castle, and everything!”
Sam shrugged. “OK, but if you really fell through the painting, maybe you can show us how it happened. Try it again.” He stepped out of Rusty’s way.
Rusty walked up to the painting, reached toward it, and then stopped, startled, when he felt the Plexiglass that protected it. “But…” he said, “but it wasn’t like that! I mean, just a minute ago!”
Jill had been watching Sam closely, and she saw him slip something into his pants pocket.
“Well, Rusty, whatever happened, you’re alright now,” Jill said.
“But Jill,” Kate said in a hushed voice, “I saw him fall through the painting, too!”
“Maybe you did,” said Sam, coming over to Kate, “but is it possible it was some kind of an illusion? I mean, there’s Plexiglas covering the painting, and maybe the light caught it just right and made you think you saw him fall through…?”
“Well, I don’t know…..” said Kate, looking up at Sam.
Sam lowered his voice. “Look, Kate, we need to try to calm Rusty down. He’s very worked up….”
They all three looked at Rusty, who was now punching at the painting with his fist.
Kate looked up dreamily into Sam’s eyes and smiled. “I see what you mean, Sam. I’ll see what I can do….”
“Rusty!” she said, “Stop punching that picture!! If you don’t calm down, I’m going to tell mom, and then you won’t get any cookies for dessert! And, we’ll have to go home early and then you’ll really be in big trouble!!!”
Rusty shot her a nasty glance, but it was clear that he was getting tired. He stopped pounding the painting and slunk away into the overstuffed chair. “…did so fall in! Nobody ever believes me….”
Jill and Kate looked at each other and giggled, and Sam relaxed a bit. Just then Jill’s mother called from the living room “Jill, honey, you want to come get cookies for everyone?”
“Come on,” she said to Kate, “let’s get dessert.”
The two girls left, and Sam went over to where Rusty was sitting alone. Rusty glared at him.
“You know what happened! You jumped in after me!”
Sam bent down so that his voice wouldn’t carry. “Of course I did, Rusty. But, sometimes that’s how magic works; one minute you fall through a painting, and the next minute you can’t. But we shouldn’t talk too much about this with the girls; they wouldn’t understand. You see what I mean?”
Rusty brightened up. “You mean it’s true then? I didn’t hit my head?”
“Well, magic is true, Rusty, but sometimes we have to keep quiet about it. Otherwise…” Sam looked around them confidentially. “…otherwise, people might start to think we’re both just weird in the head.” He pointed his finger at his temple and twirled it. “You know what I mean?”
Rusty nodded. “Yeah!”
“So, falling through the painting; that’ll be our little secret, OK? And maybe someday, when you’re a little bit older, you and I can try it again together. What do you think?”
“But why can’t we try it again now?!”
“Well, you did try it, didn’t you? And it didn’t work?”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Well, that’s the way magic is sometimes. I know it might be hard, but if you’re patient, I’m sure there will come other times when we can try it again and it will work, OK?”
Rusty looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not just making this up, are you? Just to shut me up? It really did happen, and I’m not crazy, right?”
“You’re not crazy, Rusty. But, I expect if you told too many other folks, they might think you were. So, mum’s the word, OK?”
“OK!” said Rusty, beaming.
The girls returned, and Jill was astonished at the change in Rusty, who suddenly, from her perspective, was no longer sulking. Rather, he came over to the table in the center of the room and enthusiastically helped himself to three cookies at once.
“You feeling better now, Rusty?” she asked.
“Sure….,” he said, stuffing another cookie in his mouth and winking at Sam.
Sam leaned toward Jill. “I’ll explain later,” he said, “Or, better yet, I’ll have Mr. Luke explain. You should come visit him at his studio as soon as you can.”
Before Jill could answer, however, all four of them were startled by an abrupt –- and very frightening — howling sound coming from just outside the library window!
Jill jumped up. “What on earth is that?!”
Sam stood up as well. “Something I thought might happen. But, don’t worry; I can make it go away.”
The sound got louder. It was a strange and eerie sound, like dozens of wolves howling from within some deep, metallic barrel. The voices of so many creatures coming, seemingly, from just outside the house chilled everyone to the marrow.
Sam looked around the library as if searching for something. “Quick, Jill, do you have a large mirror somewhere nearby? In a bathroom, or maybe in the living room somewhere?”
“Yes, in the bathroom in the hallway. There’s a full-length mirror just behind the door. Why?”
“Take me there. Just let me step inside for a bit; I won’t lock the door. But afterwards I’ll be gone.”
“Gone?!”
“Yes, gone. I’ll explain tomorrow. But, the howling will stop once I’ve left. No time to explain now….”
Jill grabbed Sam by the hand and they hurried down the hall together. Rusty and Kate remained frozen in fear in the library. Jill heard her mom, aunt and uncle stirring in the dining room; they, too, could not but help hearing the unearthly din, and they were coming out to investigate.
“Tomorrow!” Sam said. He entered the bathroom and shut the door. Almost instantly the howling ceased.
“Jill? Are you all OK?” It was Evie. She had just stepped into the hallway. “Where are the rest of you?”
“Rusty and Kate are in the library.”
“And where is Sam?”
Jill gently opened the door to the hall bathroom and peered inside. No one was there; Sam had disappeared!
At this point Jill didn’t know exactly what to do or what to say. Should she tell her mother about Sam disappearing? Should she tell her about Rusty, and his belief that he had fallen through the picture in the library? And what about her own experience putting her hand into the painting of the Piper? She knew she couldn’t lie to her mother, but what else could she do?
.
.
