The Sorcerer's Tome

Chapter 8: The Magic Lesson

"OK. That's it. Stop," said Tom decisively.

"What is it?" Garren asked.

Tom left the road and, brushing the snow from a tree stump, sat down. "We're outside the town now, aren't we?"

"Yes," replied the cleric.

"We haven't seen anyone for over an hour, so I take it, this is not a very well used road."

"Not anymore," Garren answered. "It's the road to Tarn. Since Balfour's occupation, it is seldom used. Once, people tried to escape by running to their kin in Tarn, but as his power grew, his influence reached the neighbouring towns and beyond."

"Right," said Tom slinging his duffel down. He opened it and found his trainers. "I'm fed up with frozen feet." Taking off one sandal at a time, he dried his feet on his cloak and put his socks and trainers on. He rolled down his jeans, took off his robe and packed that and the sandals into the pack. He put his parka back on and, so he didn't stand out too much and because it was so cold, he put Garren's spare cloak back on over the top. "Now that is better," he said, grinning.

"You look ridiculous," Garren said, surveying the green coat with the fur-lined hood the young man had put up to guard against cold ears, the travelling cloak over the top and pale blue legs sticking out of the bottom with those odd white shoes with red markings.

"It's only your cloak that makes it look ridiculous, this is designer gear," Tom said, enjoying being warm. "I'm ready now, let's go."

They got back onto the road and continued on their way.

Following their visit to Maya's cottage, the companions decided that if six people, all with large packs and travelling cloaks stomped through the village and out the other side, it might start tongues wagging. The last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. They needed to keep the element of surprise for as long as they could, if possible till they escaped with the Tome and figured out how to open the portal back to Tom's home. The decision was therefore made to split up and leave the town by three different routes. Valcris and Maya had continued up the hill from Maya's house, while the others went back down parting company at a fork in the road. Dan and Lyca carried on into the village while Tom and Garren took the other fork which was marked with a rather odd sign.

"That's weird," Tom said, looking at the sign. "Why has the street name been crossed out like that?" The sign had originally said, 'Forest Road,' but that had been crossed out with red paint that had dripped giving it a blood-like quality. Beneath, also with a strike through it, was, 'Lycanthropy Row" and below this was written, 'Werewolf Alley.'

"It's just the locals' idea of fun. They won't use its proper name, they call it 'Lycanthropy Row,' or mostly, 'Werewolf Alley.'" Garren told him.

"Are there Werewolves down there then?" Tom asked.

"No," Garren said. "They call it that because it turns into Wolf Street." Which, after walking down Werewolf Alley is precisely what they did. They walked the length of Wolf Street and out onto the Tarn Road. They were to meet up in Wood Nymph Hollow, a small glade in the woods between the river and the town.

After Tom's change of outfit, they continued up the Tarn Road for a while, when Garren stopped suddenly and signalled Tom to keep quiet. Tom strained to hear what had alarmed Garren. Yes, there was something, and it was getting closer. A grinding noise like metal on stones, it was accompanied by a loud puffing sound. Tom could only liken it to an old-fashioned steamroller.

"Get off the road," Garren whispered. They ran into the cover of the bushes and waited to see what monstrosity was making such an awful din.

They did not have long to wait. From the direction of the town, they could see clouds of smoke and steam puffing into the air. A minute later a tall metal chimney appeared moving rapidly up the hill towards them. Eventually, the round cylindrical tank to which the stack was connected came into view, closely followed by the rest of the strangest-looking vehicle Tom had ever seen. It had two smaller chimneys behind the main one, out of which thick black smoke billowed into the air. Two large metal wheels supported the front with one smaller metal wheel protruding from the rear of the contraption, connected to a tiller for steering. The vehicle was about the height and width of a London taxi and half as long again. In the open cab a man, wearing large goggles, a pair of homemade ear muffs and a long woolly scarf over his frock coat, was frantically trying to open the furnace, throw logs in and steer the contraption all at the same time. It left little time for him to watch where he was going, resulting in the shaky vehicle swerving from one side of the road to the other.