Read Online The Magic Lands by Mark Hockley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark Hockley
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idle chatter, until a steep ridge
appeared ahead. But the badger had no intention of finding an
alternative route. He continued on, climbing up and over this rise
and reaching the windswept summit, they came upon a quite startling
spectacle.
Before them stood a stone
archway, ancient and in disrepair, debris scattered all around its
base. But it was not this alone that caught their eye, for within
the archway a great mirror had been placed and their own
reflections greeted their approach.
Jack stood before the structure
and marvelled. "What is it?" he wondered aloud.
"This place is called Porta
Knoll," Mo disclosed, "it is very old."
"But what is it?" the boy
repeated.
"Many mysteries have as yet no
solution," the badger replied.
Jack looked into the huge
mirror and noticed that their images were very slightly distorted,
his own face somehow unrecognisable to him.
Tom also had seen a discrepancy
in his counterpart and stepped closer, examining his own features.
As he drew nearer to the mirror its texture seemed to alter subtly,
the surface shimmering and he halted only inches away from it. He
reached out to touch the glass but incredibly, as his fingers made
contact, they slipped through unchecked into what felt like cool
liquid. Fascinated, he twirled his fingers around within the fluid
and leaned forward until his nose almost touched the glassy
exterior, his arm disappearing into the void beyond.
Abruptly, surprising himself,
he plunged his head forward, taking a deep breath just before he
did so and with his eyes wide open, he found himself surveying an
undersea world of green and blue. Ragged weeds swayed with the
current, a coral-reef reaching out beyond the limit of his sight,
an intricate network of colour. A shoal of tiny fish passed by a
few feet away, seemingly oblivious to his presence and turning
slightly to his left he saw two beautiful sea-horses bobbing
majestically through the clear water, heading in his direction.
"What are you doing here, Tom?"
one hailed him, "don't you know The Deep is a dangerous place?"
Tom felt quite light-headed.
"Where…where am I exactly?"
"You should not linger in the
playground of the Beast," sang the second sea-horse, before making
off into the shadowy regions away to Tom's right. The boy scanned
the dark patches of weed that sprang from the ocean bed and many
sets of gleaming eyes returned his gaze, their forms large but
indistinct, their stillness unsettling. Something else caught his
eye there too, a glimmering object that appeared to be gliding
toward him. As it drew nearer, Tom recognised it as a sword, its
haft encrusted with amber jewels, the point facing him, its
progress slow and listless through the water.
"There lies the soul of the
warrior," a voice said behind him but Tom did not start at the
sound of it or turn to see who had spoken. He merely watched the
blade approach, now no more than ten feet distant. Within the
reeds, the anonymous creatures were becoming restless.
"Take it," the voice ordered
him, a deep and powerful command.
But the sword would not come
any closer. He stretched forward, leaning further and further into
the underwater realm, but always the weapon remained just out of
reach, elusive.
"Take it!"
Tom's muscles ached and yet he
responded with one final effort, but even so, his groping fingers
could only reach the tip of the honed blade.
"I can't," he cried, realising
through his frustration that he had been breathing water for some
time now. "I'll cut myself!"
"TAKE IT," insisted the voice,
seeming to be nearer now, directly behind him.
Reluctantly, but overwhelmed by
a curious compulsion, Tom let his fingers curl around the steel. A
warm sensation passed through his hand and along his arm and he
watched in numb fascination as the sea-water was clouded by his
blood.
"Resurrection," whispered the
waters, the shadows around him alive with agitated fish.
"It hurts," he complained
pulling the sword slowly toward him.
Tom looked
appeared ahead. But the badger had no intention of finding an
alternative route. He continued on, climbing up and over this rise
and reaching the windswept summit, they came upon a quite startling
spectacle.
Before them stood a stone
archway, ancient and in disrepair, debris scattered all around its
base. But it was not this alone that caught their eye, for within
the archway a great mirror had been placed and their own
reflections greeted their approach.
Jack stood before the structure
and marvelled. "What is it?" he wondered aloud.
"This place is called Porta
Knoll," Mo disclosed, "it is very old."
"But what is it?" the boy
repeated.
"Many mysteries have as yet no
solution," the badger replied.
Jack looked into the huge
mirror and noticed that their images were very slightly distorted,
his own face somehow unrecognisable to him.
Tom also had seen a discrepancy
in his counterpart and stepped closer, examining his own features.
As he drew nearer to the mirror its texture seemed to alter subtly,
the surface shimmering and he halted only inches away from it. He
reached out to touch the glass but incredibly, as his fingers made
contact, they slipped through unchecked into what felt like cool
liquid. Fascinated, he twirled his fingers around within the fluid
and leaned forward until his nose almost touched the glassy
exterior, his arm disappearing into the void beyond.
Abruptly, surprising himself,
he plunged his head forward, taking a deep breath just before he
did so and with his eyes wide open, he found himself surveying an
undersea world of green and blue. Ragged weeds swayed with the
current, a coral-reef reaching out beyond the limit of his sight,
an intricate network of colour. A shoal of tiny fish passed by a
few feet away, seemingly oblivious to his presence and turning
slightly to his left he saw two beautiful sea-horses bobbing
majestically through the clear water, heading in his direction.
"What are you doing here, Tom?"
one hailed him, "don't you know The Deep is a dangerous place?"
Tom felt quite light-headed.
"Where…where am I exactly?"
"You should not linger in the
playground of the Beast," sang the second sea-horse, before making
off into the shadowy regions away to Tom's right. The boy scanned
the dark patches of weed that sprang from the ocean bed and many
sets of gleaming eyes returned his gaze, their forms large but
indistinct, their stillness unsettling. Something else caught his
eye there too, a glimmering object that appeared to be gliding
toward him. As it drew nearer, Tom recognised it as a sword, its
haft encrusted with amber jewels, the point facing him, its
progress slow and listless through the water.
"There lies the soul of the
warrior," a voice said behind him but Tom did not start at the
sound of it or turn to see who had spoken. He merely watched the
blade approach, now no more than ten feet distant. Within the
reeds, the anonymous creatures were becoming restless.
"Take it," the voice ordered
him, a deep and powerful command.
But the sword would not come
any closer. He stretched forward, leaning further and further into
the underwater realm, but always the weapon remained just out of
reach, elusive.
"Take it!"
Tom's muscles ached and yet he
responded with one final effort, but even so, his groping fingers
could only reach the tip of the honed blade.
"I can't," he cried, realising
through his frustration that he had been breathing water for some
time now. "I'll cut myself!"
"TAKE IT," insisted the voice,
seeming to be nearer now, directly behind him.
Reluctantly, but overwhelmed by
a curious compulsion, Tom let his fingers curl around the steel. A
warm sensation passed through his hand and along his arm and he
watched in numb fascination as the sea-water was clouded by his
blood.
"Resurrection," whispered the
waters, the shadows around him alive with agitated fish.
"It hurts," he complained
pulling the sword slowly toward him.
Tom looked
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