Ross Lawhead - A Hero's throne

“Are you any good?” Fergus shouted.

Humphreybodie drew back and puffed his chest out. “Any good? I should say we are. Did you hear that, Nuncle? ‘Are we any good ?’”

“Good? We’re the best. That’s why we have the job of finding the jumping grounds.”

“I don’t know, I saw you jumping just now, and it didn’t look that far. I bet you couldn’t even jump to the Calf,” Fergus said, sounding disappointed.

“‘Calf’?” Osgoddodius repeated. “What ‘Calf’?”

“The Calf is what we call that island over there,” Fergus answered, pointing out to sea, to the southwest. They had been walking from Port Erin to Cregneash, and the Calf of Man was clearly visible from where they now stood.

“That little thing? No problem.”

“I bet you can’t,” Fergus taunted.

“’Course we can,” Humphreybodie said. “A child could make that.”

“A toddler,” said Osgoddodius.

“Show us, then.”

“Right,” Humphreybodie said. He turned and stood up straight. He gazed the distance and then took two enormous steps and leapt.

They watched him rise up, up, into the air in a great arc, and then come down, down, and alight upon the island. A couple seconds later they heard the impact shock.

Osgoddodius snorted derisively. “He barely reached the place, the pillock. He’s not as strong a jumper as myself, not that it needed saying.”

They watched Humphreybodie, still fairly visible at this distance, take another run and leap back up in the air toward them. He hung in the sky, then grew larger and larger, and came down only a few feet from where he had jumped off from. The thundering shake nearly knocked both Fergus and Kieran off the rock they were on.

“Now,” Osgoddodius said. “Watch this. No run up. Watch this.”

And, sure enough, from a stationery start, Osgoddodius leapt up into the air and came down on the Calf.

“Silly old bugger,” Humphreybodie said, sniffing condescendingly. “What’s he trying to prove? He’ll do himself an injury, at his age-pull something he’d rather not have pulled.”

“You mean you can jump farther?” Fergus asked.

“’Course I can,” Humphreybodie said, just before Osgoddodius came back and landed next to him, toppling Kieran and Fergus.

“What did you think of that?” the gigantic uncle asked. “Pretty keen, eh?”

“Humphreybodie didn’t think so,” Fergus called. Kieran didn’t know what his little brother was up to, but he was obviously running the show now, and he had an intense look on his face, the kind he wore when he was thinking hard about a card or board game. “He said you were old, and he might be right. I don’t think you could even make the Isle of Booty.”

Kieran blinked. The Isle of Booty? That was an island they had made up when they were little and played pirates on the beach.

“’Course I can make it,” Osgoddodius said, turning around and scanning the horizon. “Where is it?”

“I didn’t think you could see it. Humphreybodie said your eyesight was going.”

“Yeah, yer blind old duffer,” Humphreybodie taunted.

“Well, where is it then, knucklehead?” Osgoddodius asked his nephew.

But Fergus answered, “It’s right there, on the far side of the Calf. It’s about twice the distance again.”

It suddenly dawned on Kieran. “Twice? More like three times.”

“Probably more,” Fergus rejoined.

“Most likely more,” said Kieran. “It’s too far for either of you, in any case.”

“Much too far,” Fergus said. “Forget we said anything.”

“Forget nothing!” Osgoddodius exclaimed. “I’ll hop to the Calf and skip to the Booty, no problem, just you watch.”

Osgoddodius dug his feet into the sand. “Right, here goes,” he said under his breath and started bounding along the shore, each footfall growing farther and farther apart. He touched down once on the last tip of the Isle of Man, came down on the Calf, and crouched and sprang for the final jump. He leapt so high up in the air he became obscured by a cloud.

“You know,” Fergus called to Humphreybodie, who had watched his uncle’s progress with interest. “It didn’t look like he was going very fast. I’ll bet you could make it there before him, if you really tried.”

A wide grin spread across Humphreybodie’s face. “I’ll just bet I could, and all! Hah! Wait ‘til I see the look on his face!” And without any more hesitation than it took to say those words, he was off and running.

Fergus and Kieran watched him take the same route off the island and into the air, toward an island that only existed in their imaginations.

Fergus cleared his throat. “I hope that’s the last of them,” he said.

“It should be, providing they can’t swim. We’ll be able to tell if we start getting some good nights of sleep from now on,” Kieran replied.

“That’s true.”

They started climbing down from the rock, carefully scaling the slippery surface. Once, they thought they heard the noise of a distant splash, and after that another. Neither brother mentioned it; they both just started laughing.

Kieran looked down at his little brother. “That was pretty clever,” he said. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“I’m not as dumb as you look,” Fergus answered-the standard retort. “I’m cold. Let’s get home.”

“Yep, it’s late,” Kieran said, turning and starting back up the ridge to the road. “We’re going to be in a lot of trouble, you know.”

“Do you think? How are we going to get down from this rock?”

“Yes, I’m his sister-his baby sister,” Vivienne said.

“And you complain about me holding things back. I thought that Gad would have been older-as old as Ealdstan. Mortal enemies throughout time. Something like that.”

“No, he is a Simpson. His name is Alexander Douglas Simpson-Alex was named for him. He is twelve years older than I am-and five years older than James.”

“No. No, I definitely remember Ealdstan telling us about Gad.” She pointed a finger at Modwyn. “You lot had never heard of him, but Ealdstan said he is the oldest. The most dangerous of my foes.”

“I remember,” Modwyn said. “Ealdstan had his own reasons for saying that. He must have.”

“Which is another good question-where exactly is Ealdstan?”

“He left-before the invasion.”

“Do you have any idea where he went?”

Modwyn shook her head sadly.

“Really? Vivienne?”

“I had hoped that we might find some clue in his journals, but you know as well as I what we found there.”

“Why don’t I completely trust either one of you on that point?” Freya asked. “But getting back to Gad. .” She shook her head, bewildered. “How? Why?”

“He grew up being taught the knowledge, as we all did, though it was clear he was the most passionate of our three siblings. He began to make excursions on his own, staying longer and longer each time-days at first, and then weeks. He went to university at St. Andrew’s in Edinburgh. He went down to read Medicine but began pursuing his own studies, digging deep into ancient texts, lore, and legends. He went on many excursions, both aboveground and below. At that stage, it was hard for us to keep track of him, being as independent as he was, but I suspect he also began to travel to the mythic Otherworld, or Elfland, of the fairy tales.

“He did not finish his studies. His final year was incomplete. He simply left his rooms one night of his first term and was not seen again for twenty years. We were worried, obviously, but he left no trace or clue as to where he went. Apart from alerting the authorities to his absence, there was naught we could do.