Ashley Somers And The Journey to Wichen (Ashley Somers Book 1)

ASHLEY SOMERS and

THE JOURNEY TO

WICHEN

By H. Lynn Bowers

Copyright © 2006 by H. Lynn Bowers

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the other, unless otherwise permitted by law.

Dedicated to Karen

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to thank those that gave me the encouragement to write this book. George, thanks for your support, you are a true friend.

Dearest Karen, you put up with me each evening and listened as my tale raced to a conclusion. I fed on your smiles for the antics of little Willie and the tears you cried at his apparent but misreported demise.

I cannot continue without acknowledging the real tale teller, my mother. She was the master. Thanks, Mom.

Magical Contents

Acknowledgements

The Journey Stone

The Pargolan Plains

The Forest of Goblins

The Enchanted Lake

Cave of the Old Ones

Wichen

Hawksnest

Witch Rella Attacks

The Borgen Village

War

Queen Tarra

Home at Last

About the Author

The Journey Stone

The morning air was cool on my face as I pedaled down the empty sidewalk. A dog barking and a mower starting were the sounds of the neighborhood coming to life. I crossed Oak Street and saw Mr. Olsen filling his pool. Little Sandy tugged at his shirt. He waved and quickly stooped to pick up his daughter. Mr. Olsen taught English at my school. All the kids liked him, even the ones who hate English. I waved back as I thought of little Sandy and how much she has grown. It seemed she was just a baby when they came for dinner last year. That was before Nana took ill.

My grandmother has taken care of me since mom and dad died. I was so young I can’t remember them at all. She has always treated me as her own and I know she loves me very much. I wonder sometimes if caring for me has caused her to miss a life she really wanted. I have seen her staring at nothing and daydreaming of something from long ago. She tells me bits and pieces of her past but I can only guess most of it. She tells me always, that I am her one chance of living again. I’m not sure what that means.

Nana has been wonderful but I see other kids with their parents and I feel cheated. I have called her Nana for as long as I can remember. I called her granny once and I thought she would have a cow. She fell ill about three months ago and it has caused her constant pain. She doesn’t cough or run a fever, she just aches. It has completely drained her energy. She used to run with me. Every weekend we would jog to the Mall and around the park, then home. She always smiled then, she was so happy. Now, she can barely walk through the house without an hour of rest.

She has been to doctors and has had a zillion tests run. They all shake their heads and prescribe pain pills. Nana says it is an evil spell and the doctors will never cure her.

Out of my way girl, yelled pesky Danny Sims as he nearly ran over me on his rusty old bike. Grow up you jerk, I yelled back in the meanest tone I could manage. I put my feet back on the pedals and thought about chasing him but I guess I have grown up a little myself. Last year, I would have run him down, knocked him off his bike and blacked his eye. Nana says I have grown up so much, maybe I have.

I was on summer break but it didn’t seem like much of a vacation with Nana so ill. This morning I was heading to the pharmacy to refill a prescription for Nana. More pain pills. I just wish they could give her something to make her better. I turned into the little park just a few blocks from the mall. I stood with my bike and watched the kids on the swings. A little red-haired girl was angry with a little boy. She had pushed him on the swings and when it came his turn he just walked away. He sat on the slide and tried to ignore her. The little girl was really scolding the boy. She looked so funny, pointing her finger at the boy and giving him what-for. I left them and walked to the stone in the center of the park. Nana and I visited the park when she was well. She especially liked the stone. The stone was gray and shaped like a mitten with the thumb straight out. It was eight or nine feet tall and about a foot thick. It had an egg-shaped hole that a fat kid could pass through easily. Nana called it the Journey Stone. She said that if you spoke the magic words, you could pass through into another world. I bet I said a million magic words while climbing through that hole.

The last time was years ago and I can still see Nana smiling and urging me to concentrate and to try again.

I turned and sat in the hole, balancing myself on its edge. It was difficult to keep from falling and I held onto the sides when I felt myself going backward. I sat there and thought of Nana and her pain and tears came to my eyes. I remembered when I was very small and Nana would tell me of the land on the other side of the stone. She told of a world of magic and beauty called Pargola. Maybe magic would cure Nana since doctors could not. Pargola, I said aloud, I wish I was in Pargola. It was at that instant I wiped my eyes, lost my balance, and fell backward through the Journey Stone!

The Pargolan Plains

Light mingled with the spiraling darkness as my senses began to return. My eyes were open but I could not focus. I remembered I was sitting in the hole of the stone. I think I fell, yes, I fell backward. Perhaps I hit my head. The spiraling has stopped but I still cannot focus my eyes.

You okay, be fine, you wake now. I heard the voice plainly and the face was just coming clear. You okay, not hurt, I help, you okay, he spoke again. Gosh, I just wish he would shut up for a minute. Maybe you like up, I help, he helped me to sit up. I saw him clearly for the first time. He’s a dwarf! Did I say that out loud? How weird he is. His nose and ears are way too big and his eyes are too small. He is dressed in brown pants, a brown jacket, and a white ruffled shirt. How odd he looks. Maybe he is a performer in a circus that has just arrived in town.

Good, good, I like, okay now? he asked as he held out his hand to help me. I accepted his help as I slowly stood. He seems strong but his hand is smaller than mine. Thanks, I will be fine, I looked back at the stone and walked around to get my bike. It wasn’t there! It is then that I realize that I am not in the park. There are no trees anywhere. There is no swings or slide. The grass is tall, not cut short as in the park. I can see miles in any direction and there are no houses or streets! Am I seeing things? I feel my head for a lump and there is none. Think girl, think. What is happening? But the stone is here, how can it be?

You come here never, I see, first journey, be okay, Pox help, he said, you, Pox here for, be okay. His persistent chatter is irritating my frayed nerves and I am not my usually calm self. What are you saying, are you crazy? Nothing's okay, I think I’m crazy, I blasted at the little man. No crazy, be okay, Pox promise, Pox strong, Pox help, he said. He knows what has happened and I turned to face him. Where did the trees go? I asked. No trees, never, he answered. Where did the houses and the streets go? I asked. No houses here, no streets, he answered with a sorrowful look.

I looked all around and for miles, there was nothing, nothing but wildflowers and tall grass. Where am I? Where am I? I asked the little man. Grassland, plains, there Wichen, then he pointed behind us, there Daax. I know the towns in my part of Indiana and Daax and Wichen are not near my home and I doubt if they are anywhere in my world.

I am lost. The feeling soaks in and it chills me to the bone. Poor Nana, would I ever see her again? Who would care for her? What would happen to me? It was too much for a thirteen-year-old to bear; I lay in the grass and cried.

I don’t know how long I lay there crying, an hour, maybe two. Then I realized how selfish I had been. Nana needed me and somehow I had to get home, no matter how long it took or how far I had to travel. I refused to feel sorry for myself and made a vow, I would not cry again!

I wondered if the little man was still here. I looked up and saw him sitting by the stone. Who is this guy? Where did he come from? He seems to want nothing but to help. I won’t think bad thoughts of him; he has a kind face and a good heart. I can sense the sweetness of his soul. I could always feel the kindness in others, it may be weird but I have never been wrong.

I have come to the realization that I am indeed, very far from home, and it may be a long time before I return. But how did I get here? I was sitting in the hole in the stone, and then I fell backward. Could it be that easy? I ran to the stone and climbed through the hole only to come out the other side.

Spell, say first, then hole you go, shouted the little man. What are you saying, can’t you speak English? I felt sorry as the words came out but I could barely understand the little man. Did you say to say a spell? What does that mean? I asked. Only spell-sayer to here, to there. Say spell, then hole you go, he motioned to the stone as he spoke. Who are you? I asked as I walked around the stone to face him. Who are you and how did I get here and how did you get here? I pointed to the earth at our feet. Pox, Pox I be, hole you came, spell-sayer you be, Pox walk, Pox help, the little man rambled in his broken style. Okay, I know he is Pox, I came through the stone and he thinks that I am a spell-sayer. What the heck is a spell-sayer? Does he mean casting a spell like a witch? He does! He thinks I cast a spell to get here. He thinks I know magic. Wait, Nana told me to say the magic words as I climbed through the hole and I would come out in a beautiful magical world. But I didn’t say anything magical. I was only thinking of Nana when she was well and I think I cried. I can’t remember saying anything and Nana was just playing. She had to be playing with me. She couldn’t have known about this place. This is not a beautiful world; it’s a big, big cow pasture. I must have fallen through a wormhole or a door to another dimension. I have seen all the sci-fi movies and this fits in that category, except that this is so very real.

I do not know any spells. I am just a girl and I am lost, I looked sadly into his eyes as I spoke. Can you cast a spell and send me back? It was more of a prayer than a question. No spell-sayer Pox, you no spell say? he asked as he tilted his head in disbelief. Pox say, spells here, he pointed to my heart, then pointed to my mouth and added, here not know." His English required extra thinking to understand but it is plain he thinks I know how to cast spells. If it were true, my first spell would be to correct his speech.

Look Pox, I cannot cast spells, I looked down at him, who can help me get back through that stone and home? He tilted his head and a smile spread across his face, go city, Pox take, see wizard, learn be spell-sayer again. He just said we should go see the wizard! Now I know I’m crazy. Where have I heard this tale before? I must ask just one question. What is the name of the city where the wizard lives? I asked. Wichen, Wichen it be, Pox take, you be okay, Pox help, wizard make learn, he almost danced to his words he was so excited. Thank goodness he said Wichen! At least, I’m not lost in that other story.

Pox explained that we would have to walk if I couldn’t say a spell. I looked back at the stone knowing it could be a long time before I could return. It was with a little sadness, that I turned away from my only door home. Pox led the way as our journey to Wichen began. Why I am not scared, I don’t know. I should have been scared, very scared.

The journey began at noon and I was happy the sun was straight up in the sky. I am happy for everything that is the same here as home. The flowers and grass look just like it does at home, just a lot more of it.

The fields appear level but there are little hills and valleys throughout. The grass is as high as my waist and thick with wildflowers. Pox and I talk as we push forward through the green overgrowth. He finally asked my name and has been trying to wear it out ever since. His people are called Borgen, and they live at the edge of the forest and west of the stone. The Borgen travel all over this strange world and several live in Wichen.

I just realize that I haven’t eaten in hours. I know there are no restaurants in sight but Pox must eat something. We hadn’t spoken for several minutes and were moving at a good pace when I gave in to my hunger. Pox understood and told me to rest then disappeared through the grass. In just a few minutes he returned with a pouch of fruit and berries. They were so delicious. I ate almost all of them before I noticed Pox was not eating. He smiled and explained that he ate while he gathered the food. From then on, Pox would anticipate my hunger and bring fruits and berries that were strange but quite tasty.

When the sun was low in the sky and the colors of dusk began to appear, we made camp. Pox gathered long grasses and made beds for both of us. He taught me to lie down and pull one side over as a blanket. I could never do it correctly and Pox was constantly covering me whenever I moved. You are like an old mother hen, I said as he repaired my bed for the third or fourth time. He just smiled and sat on his bed and stared into the direction we had just traveled. I watched and wondered what his life was like and what he thought of this lost little girl now in his care. I did not think, after all, that had happened, sleep would come, but I was so tired.

I awoke with a start and sat upright. Pox was sitting in his bed, staring at me as if he had seen a ghost. Then I realized I could actually see his features, his eyes and all around him. I looked side to side as if maybe there was a campfire but the light was coming from me! My pendant had fallen out of my shirt and was glowing as bright as a light bulb! It was incredible! Magic it be, spell-sayer sure, Pox believe, you see. The little guy seemed happy that it was glowing but I knew I had not made it happen with magic.

I tucked the pendant into my shirt but it only dulled the glow. How strange it was. The pendant was not hot, but I was warmed by it. It was like a night-light. Even through my shirt, the light was enough to see Pox. Go to sleep Pox, it’s not magic, it’s a pendant, I said the words but I wasn’t sure. Could it be magic? I drifted away dreaming of home.

I woke as the first light of morning tickled my nose. I sat up and stretched my arms and yawned. Pox was up and making his bed. He carefully arranged the grass as it was before we came. I tried to do as he had and I think I did fairly well. He smiled and handed me a little pouch of yellow berries that taste like bananas and I munched on them as we began our second day of the journey.

I finished the berries as we walked and I pulled the pendant from my shirt. I have looked at it many times in the years since Nana placed it around my neck. It was different! The words Crystal at the top and Hawk at the bottom were sharper and more defined. The lady in flowing robes at the center was gray but now is crystalline. The back, with its arched bridge and three towers, seem unchanged, no there is a piece of crystal at the top of the central tower! Never have I seen these things and what could have made it glow? Was it this place? It had to be, maybe it is the sunlight or maybe it is magic. Nana told me that it was my mother’s and to never let it out of my sight.

I put the pendant away as Pox turned and came to me carrying his water hide and belt. I raised my arms as he tied the belt around my waist. He taught me to untie the water skin to drink and to retie it. I had been asking Pox for water when I was thirsty but I have never seen him take one sip. I asked what he would drink and he told me to watch and I would see. Minutes later he stopped at one of the large tulip shaped flowers. With a glance to see if I was watching, he squatted and tipped the contents of the flower into his open mouth! Pox had once again, showed his remarkable knowledge of the fruits of this world. When I told him that I could drink like that, he would have none of it. He said I was too tall and that I was the spell-sayer and he was the Borgen.

Lunch was blue berries that taste like blueberries and a root that tastes like wheat bread but sweeter and greens that taste like spinach. I refused to eat the horrid greens. Yuk. We sat on stones that were strewn on a little rise and I asked how far it was to Wichen. Pox not sure, many days, long way, he really didn’t say he had never been there, but it was obvious. It didn’t bother me at all. I had complete faith in this little man.

We had walked for two full days and the forest seemed closer but still far away. For the first time, I notice a fog or mist, low to the ground, between the forest and us. I mention this to Pox but he doesn’t know what it could