The Special One

THE SPECIAL ONE

 

‘Where am I?’ gasped Sylvester.

Only a few seconds ago he had been standing by a soothing fire in his own sitting room. Now he was somewhere outside, surrounded by mysterious trees. He tried to fathom out why he was here of all places, but nothing came to mind.

Unsure of what to do next he waited in hope for help to come.

Surprisingly the wait was not long.

After just a few minutes a friendly gust of wind arrived. The fresh air impacted his skin, which in turn rejuvenated his senses. The moment before he had been transported from the known to the unknown replayed.

Sylvester stood looking up at a painting above the fire place. The canvas showed a stretch of stone wall, heavily damaged in places. In the centre stood two figures by a battered wooden door, which was twice their size. One was an old woman. She had white trailing hair and wore a long flowing grey garment. The other was a bald man, dressed in matching clothes.

As Sylvester continued to study the picture a peculiar thing happened. The characters in the frame started to move. He could also hear voices.

‘Help is on its way.’ said the old woman.

‘How can you be sure?’ asked the bald man.

‘He is watching us now.’

‘Do you know of this person?’

‘His coming was foretold.’

‘You mean the boy?’

‘Yes, of course. I will go to him.’

All of a sudden Sylvester felt a tingling sensation.

A brief moment later darkness surrounded him and before he could count to ten he found himself in a strange forest.

The refreshing wind faded away as Sylvester mulled over the spoken words. But they meant nothing. He gave his brain cells a rest and decided to examine the nearest tree to him. It stood over two floors high, its bark was of a greenish, yellow colour and its branches were covered in leaves. Its whole shape resembled an umbrella forced inside out by the wind.

As Sylvester continued to look upwards one of the tree’s leaves broke free and floated down onto the forest floor. He reached down and picked up the escapee. It was green, flat and spiny. He then rolled up the leaf and began to stick it in his back trouser pocket.

Just as he completed the action he noticed a head appear from behind a tree in the distance. He could make out grey fur, two pointed ears and a pair of fangs.

‘A wolf!’ cried Sylvester.

A short while later the wolf was standing only a few feet away. Its yellow eyes made contact. Sylvester’s feet froze to the ground.

‘Do not be afraid, child.’ said the wolf in a gravely tone.

Sylvester’s eyebrows rose to his fringe.

The wolf then turned and scampered away. Sylvester came to a decision that a talking wolf must be friendly and followed in hot pursuit.

Before long the wolf had led him to an opening, revealing daylight. Sylvester stopped in his tracks and looked at the wolf.

‘Here is where I leave you,’ said the wolf. ‘My paw is yours, if you are ever in need.’

A second later the wolf turned and scurried back into the undergrowth. Sylvester wondered why the wolf held him in such high esteem, but nothing came to mind. He then pushed on, passing between the trees into the light. A summer's sky surrounded him, beneath his feet a green field and in the distance he could make out the scene from the painting. It was part of a circular walled village.

Before Sylvester could take another stride a grey horse and a rider exited the settlement.

As the rider got nearer he recognised the grey garment and trailing hair. It was the old woman from the painting.

‘Welcome child.’ said the old woman, as she pulled up.

‘Did you know I was coming?’ asked Sylvester.

‘It is written in stone.’

Sylvester scrunched his face up and then continued the questioning.

‘Who are you?’

‘You may call me Mimosa.’ said the old woman.

‘Do you know the wolf?’

‘His name is Ulric. He is the leader of the Acacia wolves.’

As Sylvester was about to pose another question, Mimosa knocked her heels and started to canter back towards the village. Sylvester ran after the now galloping horse.

A few minutes later he got within touching distance of the wall. He halted and looked with greater detail. Along the base was a layer of rubble, in front of him was the battered door, which was now open and at the top there were lots of gaping holes.

Sylvester pushed through the opening. Inside there were an assortment of timber huts and numerous people dressed in grey, who all stared straight at him. He felt a little uncomfortable.

Mimosa trotted on through the gawping crowd. Sylvester followed her path.

A little later Mimosa pulled up and dismounted by a tower. It was ancient looking, made of grey stone and stood three floors high. Sylvester looked towards the top of the tower. He saw a dangling golden bell surrounded by iron framework.

‘You have come.’ said Mimosa.

‘I have?’ said Sylvester.

‘Just as it was foretold.’

‘What are you on about?’

Mimosa pointed with her left hand towards the base of the bell tower. Sylvester moved closer. On a block of grey stone were engraved these words: From the forest a boy will come. He will save the people.

Sylvester took his eyes away from the words and gawked at Mimosa.

‘What is it child?’ asked Mimosa.

‘I’m still confused.’ said Sylvester.

‘Our village has been ransacked by the Elephas for countless years. We have been unable to fend them off. However, our hopes were lifted when the prophetic words appeared a few months ago.’

‘Who wrote it?

‘That is a mystery.’

‘You think I am that boy?’

‘You will know what to do when the time comes.’

Before Sylvester could speak another word a resounding clang sounded out. The bell in the tower was swinging back and forth.

‘Come child, your time has come.’ shouted Mimosa.

Sylvester shook his head. Was this old woman out of her mind?

Mimosa grabbed hold of Sylvester’s right hand and dragged him through the bedlam created by the startled villagers.

When she reached the boundary wall she took him up a rickety stairway and then released her grip. Sylvester looked over the top. Spread around the wall stood an army of elephants. They were all clad in black armour and on their backs sat hooded riders, also dressed in black.

As Sylvester continued to stare, the elephants began to bash the walls with their tusks. What on earth can I do? he thought.

The bell then stopped ringing. With the assistance of silence Sylvester was able to think more clearly.

A moment later a brain wave struck. Sylvester leaned over the edge of the wall and focused his attention on the largest elephant, which was the size of a double decker bus.

‘Hello Mr Elephant. Can you hear me?’ said Sylvester.

The elephant said nothing. Maybe I can only talk to wolves thought Sylvester. He tried again.

‘If you understand me Mr Elephant could you respond?’

The elephant’s great mouth opened and then a commanding voice spoke.

‘What do you want young one.’

‘My name is Sylvester. Could I ask you a few questions?’

‘I am Maximus. What do you want to know?’

‘Why are you trying to destroy this village?’

‘Our master’s control us. We do their bidding,’

‘Why?’

‘They provide our food for us. Without them we would stave.’

‘What do you eat?’

‘Acacia leaves.’

‘Can you not find your own?’

‘The acacia trees can only be found in the forest.’

‘So, what’s the problem?’

‘Only the chosen can enter those woods. We would be cursed if we trod its earth.’

‘If I could get you acacia leaves would you break your agreement with your riders.’

‘How do you intend to do that?’

Sylvester removed the green leaf from his back pocket and lifted it above his head. Maximus’ fan shaped ears responded by flapping wildly.

‘Ulric has sworn to help me.’ said Sylvester.

‘The leader of the Acacia wolves.’ exclaimed Maximus.

‘The very one.’ said Sylvester as he placed the leaf back into his pocket.

‘Ulric rarely talks to any creature, let alone a human. He must regard you significant. I will take your offer.’

‘Thanks Maximus. The village will provide you with Acacia leaves, I promise.’

Maximus nodded his head and then roared aloud. Instantly all the elephants stopped bashing the wall and started to throw their riders off.

The enemy bruised and battered, slowly got to their feet and retreated into the distance.

Just as Sylvester was about to cheer he realised he had made a stupid mistake. Ulric would not allow any of the villagers to enter his forest.

‘What is wrong child?’ said Mimosa.

‘I have promised that the village will provide acacia leaves for the elephants.’ said Sylvester.

‘I will get them.’

‘How?’

‘I entered the forest when I was child.’

‘Phew.’ said Sylvester as he waved his right hand across his brow.

‘I took a flower from an acacia tree,’ continued Mimosa. ‘That is how I got my name.’

Before Sylvester could investigate further he found himself lifted off the ground and paraded around the village. Even the elephants joined in the celebrations.

Eventually it all came to a halt, as the elephants said their goodbyes and swaggered away. The villagers then expressed their thanks and returned to their chores with springs in their heels. Mimosa was the only person who remained.

‘I must return to the forest and talk to Ulric.’ said Sylvester.

‘Do what you must child.’ said Mimosa.

‘I’ll come straight back, once I have explained the deal.’

Sylvester took off and dashed out of the village.

It was not long before he reached the Acacia forest. He re-entered through the gap between the trees and started to trudge through the undergrowth.

After a good few minutes, he realised how vast the forest was. Searching for Ulric could take a life time.

As a little despondency began to enter his head a pair of yellow eyes appeared in the distance. Ulric the leader of the Acacia wolves soon stood in front of him.

‘How did you know I was here?’ said Sylvester.

‘Once you entered the forest I felt your presence.’ said Ulric.

‘I need to ask you something.’

‘Child, what is it?’

‘I have promised Mimosa that you will allow her to take some acacia leaves.’

Ulric growled in response.

‘I’m sorry.’ said Sylvester. ‘I should have cleared it with you first.’

‘I offered you my paw,’ said Ulric. ‘Let it be.’

Before Sylvester could say another word, Ulric turned and darted back into the undergrowth. Sylvester stood alone wondering if he had done something wrong.

As he continued to reflect his head became dizzy. He closed his eyes and shook his head form side to side.

A few seconds later Sylvester opened his eyes and found himself back in his sitting room. The fire was still blazing, but the painting had changed. Mimosa and the bald man no longer remained, plus the wall and wooden door were fully restored. He shook his head once more and wondered if this all had been a dream.

After much consideration he shuffled back and began to sit down on his sofa.

Just as his bottom touched the cushion, he felt something in his back trouser pocket. He placed his right hand into the slot and removed the protruding item. Straightening up he held it in front of his eyes. It was green, flat and spiny.