brains out through your eyeballs. That about cover it?’
‘It’s one way of putting it,’ said Merelie, frowning.
‘Fair enough. I can understand why you’d want help with that and I guess a mega powerful Wordsmith from another dimension would fit the bill.’ Max gave her an incredulous look. ‘Why the hell you’d think it would be me is bonkers, though. There’s no magic in my world – from books or anywhere else.’
‘But there is, boy,’ a cracked and aged voice said from over by the door, ‘you just have to know where to look for it.’
‘You know what?’ said Max, looking over at the new arrival. ‘I’m getting bloody sick of that happening all the time.’
If it were possible to splice a human with a frog and a prune, this person would be the result. Tiny and wrinkled, it looked like he’d been left on a hot wash for half an hour too long.
The little man wore a serviceable plain robe in the dark green that denoted membership of the House of Carvallen. He also wore round-rimmed spectacles and had hair as white as snow, cropped close to his head. His face looked a bit like a new born baby’s. Which in other words meant he looked like Winston Churchill.
He had ‘wiseman’ written all over him.
‘You’re not a fan of dramatic timing then, Mr Bloom?’ said the frog prune as he floated over.
‘You what? How do you know my name?’
‘Timing is the essence of a good story… fictional or otherwise, Max,’ he explained. ‘I’ve read more than enough to know that. As to your second question, let’s just say I’m in the position to know most of what goes on in and around the Chapter House… and who’s involved,’ he said and offered Max a wise smile.
Good grief, this one’s going to be annoying.
Merelie moved closer to the walking wrinkle and took his frail looking hands in hers.
‘Garrowain, it’s so good to see you again.’
‘And you too, child.’ He looked over at Max. ‘You’ve been busy I see.’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure it served much of a purpose.’
‘Purpose only chooses to reveal itself at the right time, child,’ the old man said, so wisely it was nauseating.
‘This is Garrowain, Max,’ Merelie told him. ‘He’s the head custodian of the Carvallen library. He oversees all those who look after the books in our Chapter House. He’s a dear friend and has helped me interpret my dreams. Without him, I’d know nothing of your world and you’d never have seen my message.’
Max rolled his eyes. He wasn’t much of a book reader, but he’d seen enough movies to know this old codger was revered by everyone and could probably provide a sage and apt quotation for any situation.
‘So let me get this straight, it’s your fault Merelie thinks I’m Captain Magic – and the reason I’m going to get skinned alive by purple monsters?’
‘As I’m sure you’re aware by now, it isn’t about you specifically Mr Bloom,’ Garrowain said, in a level tone. ‘We believe the potential to be a great Wordsmith may exist in many of your race. You were just the one lucky enough to find Merelie’s plea for help.’
‘Lucky?’
‘Indeed! To learn Wordcraft is a great honour. You will be the first from your world to do so and will tap a source of power as yet untouched by your people.’
‘Will I?’
‘Indeed. We will open both your eyes and your mind to the power we believe is within you. You will be able to face any horrors the void can muster.’
‘And what if I can’t? What if I’m about as magical as a drunk squirrel in leg warmers?’
Garrowain’s train of thought was somewhat derailed by this. Merelie – who was getting used to Max’s turn of phrase – answered for him.
‘We don’t believe that’s possible. It simply can’t be. All those books, all that potential power… ‘
‘See, this is the bit I still don’t get.’ Max said, throwing his hands up in frustration.
‘You’re still confused about how we regard your world, Mr
‘It’s one way of putting it,’ said Merelie, frowning.
‘Fair enough. I can understand why you’d want help with that and I guess a mega powerful Wordsmith from another dimension would fit the bill.’ Max gave her an incredulous look. ‘Why the hell you’d think it would be me is bonkers, though. There’s no magic in my world – from books or anywhere else.’
‘But there is, boy,’ a cracked and aged voice said from over by the door, ‘you just have to know where to look for it.’
‘You know what?’ said Max, looking over at the new arrival. ‘I’m getting bloody sick of that happening all the time.’
If it were possible to splice a human with a frog and a prune, this person would be the result. Tiny and wrinkled, it looked like he’d been left on a hot wash for half an hour too long.
The little man wore a serviceable plain robe in the dark green that denoted membership of the House of Carvallen. He also wore round-rimmed spectacles and had hair as white as snow, cropped close to his head. His face looked a bit like a new born baby’s. Which in other words meant he looked like Winston Churchill.
He had ‘wiseman’ written all over him.
‘You’re not a fan of dramatic timing then, Mr Bloom?’ said the frog prune as he floated over.
‘You what? How do you know my name?’
‘Timing is the essence of a good story… fictional or otherwise, Max,’ he explained. ‘I’ve read more than enough to know that. As to your second question, let’s just say I’m in the position to know most of what goes on in and around the Chapter House… and who’s involved,’ he said and offered Max a wise smile.
Good grief, this one’s going to be annoying.
Merelie moved closer to the walking wrinkle and took his frail looking hands in hers.
‘Garrowain, it’s so good to see you again.’
‘And you too, child.’ He looked over at Max. ‘You’ve been busy I see.’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure it served much of a purpose.’
‘Purpose only chooses to reveal itself at the right time, child,’ the old man said, so wisely it was nauseating.
‘This is Garrowain, Max,’ Merelie told him. ‘He’s the head custodian of the Carvallen library. He oversees all those who look after the books in our Chapter House. He’s a dear friend and has helped me interpret my dreams. Without him, I’d know nothing of your world and you’d never have seen my message.’
Max rolled his eyes. He wasn’t much of a book reader, but he’d seen enough movies to know this old codger was revered by everyone and could probably provide a sage and apt quotation for any situation.
‘So let me get this straight, it’s your fault Merelie thinks I’m Captain Magic – and the reason I’m going to get skinned alive by purple monsters?’
‘As I’m sure you’re aware by now, it isn’t about you specifically Mr Bloom,’ Garrowain said, in a level tone. ‘We believe the potential to be a great Wordsmith may exist in many of your race. You were just the one lucky enough to find Merelie’s plea for help.’
‘Lucky?’
‘Indeed! To learn Wordcraft is a great honour. You will be the first from your world to do so and will tap a source of power as yet untouched by your people.’
‘Will I?’
‘Indeed. We will open both your eyes and your mind to the power we believe is within you. You will be able to face any horrors the void can muster.’
‘And what if I can’t? What if I’m about as magical as a drunk squirrel in leg warmers?’
Garrowain’s train of thought was somewhat derailed by this. Merelie – who was getting used to Max’s turn of phrase – answered for him.
‘We don’t believe that’s possible. It simply can’t be. All those books, all that potential power… ‘
‘See, this is the bit I still don’t get.’ Max said, throwing his hands up in frustration.
‘You’re still confused about how we regard your world, Mr
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