The Blade

Chapter 29

The sky was still blue.  The sun still shone.  But the dark-robed figure of Vardun Ri, ominous and imposing, was gone.

In fact, it was all gone.  The courtyard, the castle, the guards, the shards of brightly-coloured broken glass, Marie, everything.  Everything, that is, except for Grandpa.  Grandpa, upright and strong, looking fitter and younger than he had done for years.

Utterly bewildered, George glanced around.  He didn't know where they were, yet their surroundings were strangely familiar.  And then, it came to him.

"This is the park.  The park that used to be down the street from our house.  The one they got rid of, to build those townhouses."

"That's right, Georgie.  I used to bring you here all the time, when you were little.  Especially around the time when Tom...when we lost your father.  I wasn't sure that you'd remember it."

George swallowed.  "Of course I remember it.  This is where you first told me about the Far Lands.  And about the Blade."

"That's right, boy.  Sometimes we'd stay for hours.  I used to have to bribe you with ice-cream, just to get you to leave."

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that."  George smiled at the recollection.  And then, abruptly, the incongruity of their situation came crashing in.  "Grandpa, what are we doing here?  How can we be at a park that doesn't even exist anymore?  Where's Vardun?"  With a sudden surge of panic, George realised that his hands were empty.  "Where's the Blade?  And what about you?  Those pieces of glass...I thought that maybe you were going to... to..."

"To die?"

George could only nod, mutely.

Grandpa sighed, and gestured towards a pair of swings.  "Step into my office, boy."

"But what about—?"

"Georgie, you're going to have to believe me when I say that you don't need to worry about Vardun, or Marie or the Blade, or any of that stuff.  Not at the moment, anyway.  Just think of this as kind of like a time-out."

"But— "

"Look, just come and take seat.  I'll see if I can explain."

Reluctantly, George did as he was told.  For a little while, they simply sat, as Grandpa—somewhat uncharacteristically—seemed to be at a loss for words.  Gradually, George found himself beginning to enjoy the peace and the quiet, something there had been precious little of since the previous evening.  Silent but for the sound of birdsong, the park was empty apart from the two of them, and a pleasant breeze tempered the warmth of the sun.  Swinging slightly, George was content to wait.

Grandpa stared off into the distance, his swing motionless.  Eventually, he spoke.  "You know, there would have been no shame in accepting Vardun's offer.  You still could."

George smiled, crookedly.  "Grandpa, saying no was just about the hardest thing I've ever done.  Please don't make me do it all over again."

"Don't worry, boy, I won't.  It's your decision, after all."

George waited for more, but the old man had lapsed back into contemplative silence.  "Grandpa," he prompted, gently, "you were going to explain why we're here."

"So I was, boy, so I was."  He turned to face George, with a mischievous grin.  "We're not."

"Not what?"

"Not here, boy.  There is no here.  This isn't a place, it's a memory.  Or at least an illusion, based on a memory.  Cool, huh?"

"Grandpa, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."