Barrowquest
A multiple-choice quest adventure
for use with Unit 6 of
The National Literacy Strategy Year 6 Planning
Exemplification 3
(Ref: DfES 0135/2002)
Includes all chapters of The Awakening, as given in the
above publication (accessed by selecting SOUTH,
THORN, HARP and INDIGO during the adventure)
Additional chapters written by: J Davies, J Duckworth,
L Glasspoole, E Gowing, B Long, S Simpson, C White, A
Williams
1.The Barrow
Lin pushed himself between the massive slabs.
The huge weight of stone pressed in on him, and a
greater weight of terror squeezed him more.
Without lubrication from the ancient growth of
moss that coated the stones he might never have
made it though the narrow gap at all. I can’t do this,
he thought. Why me? If I were younger or larger I
wouldn’t be here.
“Let’s call him Lin for short,” a boy in the tribe
once mocked, “for short is what he is.” The rest had
laughed. Lin he had become, and short he had stayed.
Skinny too. And that was precisely why the chieftain
Magh had called him to the tribefire, to the council
where no boys came.
“Your tribe has need of you,” said Magh,
“great need. Sit here and listen well.”
“But . . ” blurted Lin.
“Sit, boy.” Magh gave no choice, accepted no
hesitation. Then he spoke, slowly and solemnly, in the
deep, resonant voice that had awed Lin all his life.
“Our tribe is in great peril. Even now as we sit by our
own tribefire, hordes of our darkest ancient foes
are encamped around our borders. Vast hordes. Soon
they will attack. And when they do, great as we have
been, great as we are, we have not might enough to
drive them off. For all time remembered, and much
forgotten, our tribe have peopled this land, moulded
its stories – but soon all this, all that we know and
value will end in loss, in darkness and in death. It will
end, that is, unless someone can find the magician
and wake him.” Magh paused and looked around
slowly.
“Our old ones say that under Barrow Hill there
sleeps a great magician. His magic saved our people in
the distant past. Now he waits, deep in enchanted
sleep, guarded by the warriors of a ghostly king. But
in our hour of need he will awake and save us once
again. That hour is now.” Another pause.
“They say too that there is a way into the hill
through the long barrow of our ancestors which
stands atop. A way for one who can find it – and take
it. But the great stones are immovable, the gap
between them narrow, and the way beyond that . . . .
Who knows?”
Now Magh looked straight at Lin. “Only you,
Lin, are old enough to understand this task, yet small
enough to squeeze between the stones. Will you go
for us? Will you take this quest? Will you find the
magician and wake him?”
“Do I have a choice?” asked Lin.
“Yes, and no,” said Magh. “I offer you a choice,
but know that you have none.”
Lin understood. And now here he was, crawling
into the ancient barrow, where no living flesh should
be. The stone was deathly cold. Lin’s heart was
colder still, and the chamber, deep inside the
barrow, where he fell with a dull thud, was full of the
darkest darkness he had ever known.
He lay for a moment wheezing, gasping for the
breath the stones had squeezed from him. Then, as
his breathing eased, he pulled out the lamp and flint
he had been given and, shivering, lit the flame. By its
flickering light he could see four stone passageways
leading north, south, east and west out of the
chamber. Which should he take? Terror almost froze
him, but not quite. He did the only thing he felt he
could. He walked straight ahead in the direction he
was facing.
Did he go NORTH, SOUTH, EAST or WEST?
North
South
East
West
2. The Chamber of Lights
Brilliant light flared, blinding his eyes.
Startled, he stepped back, shielding his eyes from
the glare. Finding a hard wall behind him, he whirled.
The doorway through which he had come was no
longer there. There was no way back.
The light vanished and Lin looked around. A
circular cavern domed over his head. Facing him,
three torches blazed in brackets mounted on the
rock wall, each one beside an opening in the rock. The
first passage glowed red, licking its shadows with
tongues of reflected flame; the second ,blue,
whispering tones of rippling streams and still lakes.
The third was green, pulsing with shades of fresh
life. In front of each was a step. One of these, he
thought, must be the way out. But which one?
Nothing for it but to try.
As the openings were of differing heights
each step was lower or higher. Grabbing a torch Lin
entered the red passage. The whole corridor glowed
eerily. After some time, seeing more light ahead, he
quickened his pace. Suddenly he was in a chamber
that looked similar to - no - it was the same one he
had left. He had walked in a complete circle.
Next he tried the blue passage, but, after
swimming through the liquid blue light, he still ended
back where he had started. The third passage must
be the exit. Lin stepped up into its cool, emerald
light, moved rapidly along its length and once more
emerged into the same chamber. He tested each
passage again and again. They all led him back to his
starting point. In some magical way they were all
interconnected. Whichever passage he entered, he
returned through another.
Lin sat thoughtfully, facing the three
passages. There must be a way out. He idly traced
patterns in the dust-covered floor of the chamber.
But what was this? He could feel marks engraved
beneath the dust. He brushed the dust aside. Was
this a clue, etched into the ancient floor?
Only see
What light does show,
Use all three
To onward go.
See what? Lin asked himself. Scrambling to his
feet he lifted the torch above his head. A bright
flash lit the whole chamber, causing Lin to drop the
torch. What was that? Slowly he raised the torch
again. The torch light shone deep into the coloured
passages. In an instant, the whole chamber became
flooded with reflection – and from its midst shone
one strong beam of white. Lin gasped, amazed.
Turning slowly, he could see the place on the wall
where the polished rock acted like a mirror,
combining the red, green, and blue light from each
passage to create the beam. And where it shone he
could see a fourth passage, higher up the wall. Lin
knew this was the true exit. His elation was shortlived. How could he reach the entrance?
He repeated the second part of the clue:
Use all three
To onward go
All three what? Three torches? Three
passages? Three . . .STEPS! Lin rushed across the
chamber. Each step was sloped on one side. If I can
move them . . . , thought Lin. He dragged the middle
stone up the ramped side of its larger brother. Then
the smallest one was hauled on top. Breathless but
triumphant Lin surveyed the stairway he had created.
Trembling with excitement he climbed to the topmost
stone, pulled himself into the new entrance, and into
the passage.
The passage was short and led directly to
another chamber. Four doors faced him. One was
made of oak, one of ash, one of elm and one of thorn
wood. He opened the nearest and walked through.
Did Lin choose the OAK, ASH, ELM or THORN door?
Oak
Ash
Elm
Thorn
2.The Amazing Roots
For some way the passage to the south ran
level, but then it began to drop and curve back upon
itself. As Lin walked he spiralled down and down and
down, until he felt he had reached the heart of the
earth itself.
He found himself in a vast underground
chamber. Its huge space was filled with what he took
at first to be pillars, arches, twisted beams. These in
turn seemed to be slung about with ropes, ropes
looped and dangling, ropes twisted and entwined,
many with frayed ends that lost themselves in mists
of fibre. But as he explored, as he looked and felt
and smelled, he found that they were all roots. He
was in standing in an enormous cavern, grown through
by the tangled roots of a great tree – a tree that
must be almost half the size of the world.
Intrigued, Lin began to wander amongst the
roots. He swung past them and ducked under them.
He climbed over them and pushed through their
fantastic forms. Soon he lost all sense of where he
had come from, and had no idea which way he was
going. Then he realised that, worst of all, he had no
idea which way he should go. He was lost in a vast
knot of roots, which soared above him and
surrounded him on all sides.
He set off with a will in the direction he was
already facing. But he soon found the line impossible
to hold. He had to duck and twist and veer until his
mind was more tangled than the roots. He wandered
on through the maze of turns and dead ends until he
began to think his own dead end would be there too.
Then he began to see faces in the twisted
forms of gnarled wood that surrounded him. He saw
heads without bodies leering at him from every
direction, laughing at his desperation. He saw
contorted, woody faces everywhere, all the same, all
laughing. Their noses were twists of root. Their hair
and eyebrows were tangles of frond. Their laughing
mouths were puckered knots. Faces. Faces. All
laughing. All mocking him. All the same.
No, not all the same. That one had a hooked
nose. That one had a stubby ear. That one had much
larger eyes. That one looked old and tired.
Lin began to see the difference, the
uniqueness, in each face. And as he did so the
mockery on the faces seemed to change to friendlier
laughter. Twisted mouths warmed into smiles.
Once he felt he knew each one, Lin gave each
face a name. You look like a “Crab” to me, he thought,
because you are old and crabby. You look like a “Hog”
because you hair sticks out like spines. You look like a
“Merry”. There are laughter lines around your eyes.
“Thank you, Lin,” said Hog. “I’ve never had a
name before. If you turn right here and duck under
that big root you’ll come to Burr. He’ll tell you where
to go next.”
“No problem,” said Burr, when Lin reached him.
And, one by one, the faces with names directed Lin
through the maze of roots, until he came to the far
end of the chamber. There he found four doors. One
was made of oak, one of ash, one of elm and one of
thorn wood. He opened the nearest and walked
through.
Did Lin choose the OAK, ASH, ELM or THORN door?
Oak
Ash
Elm
Thorn
2.Green Light
The passage to the east dropped suddenly and
steeply. Taken by surprise, Lin slid down, tumbling
and falling, unable to halt his flight. Down and down
he fell, deeper and deeper into the barrow, until
with a crash and a thump, he reached the bottom.
Bruised and sore, Lin stood, slowly.
He found himself in utter darkness. Where
was he? How could he tell? No light pierced the
smothering black that surrounded him. The air was
stale and still. The only sound to be heard was the
quickening beat of Lin’s own heartbeat as it
thumped, thumped in his ears – faster and faster.
Taking a deep breath, Lin stretched his
fingers to the front and to the side. Nothing. He
took a tentative step forward. The ground was hard
and uneven, but held his weight. Step by careful
step, Lin walked on into the darkness.
Suddenly his breath caught in his throat.
Floating in front of him was the palest of green
spiders. Its legs wiggled and tensed, flitting away as
Lin reached towards it. He paused. The spider
paused. Lin reached again. The spider retreated.
Slowly but surely, the truth began to dawn on
him. The spider was his own hand! Without realising
it, a subtle change was taking place. A pale, almost
sickly, green light was beginning to seep into the
gloom, outlining his whole body.
Able to see his surroundings for the first
time, Lin realised that he was standing in a tunnel.
Far away in the distance, shimmering and pulsating,
was a green, luminescent glow, streaming out of a
gaping hole in the tunnel floor. Lin hesitated,
horrified. The light bulged and squirmed as if it were
a living, breathing entity. He knew he should walk
away, but felt an awful compulsion to become part of
that light and lose himself forever.
Stumbling over rocks and rubble, Lin was
drawn further and further towards the light.
Brighter and brighter it blazed until Lin had to
shield his eyes. Almost blinded, he fell – screaming into the hole.
Lin landed on a cushion of moist, springy moss
that glowed with an emerald fire. Sprouting from the
moss, swaying sluggishly, were enormous slimecovered pods. Lin realised that the air was still. No
breeze disturbed this lonely place. Yet still, the pods
moved – back and forth, back and forth.
“Sleep. Sleep forever.” A hushed voice came
from nowhere and everywhere. “Lay down and close
your eyes. Forget your quest, my little one. Sleep.”
Hypnotised by the voice and the swaying pods, Lin’s
eyes drooped.
“The quest,” murmured Lin, drowsily, “ . . . not
important . . . must sleep.”
However, deep inside his head, Lin was
screaming,“WAKE UP, LIN! Fight it now or you’ll
never wake again!”
Forcing his heavy eyes open, Lin reached out in
desperation. Grasping hold of a nearby pod, he pulled
– pulled with all his strength – without really knowing
why. With a sickening, wrenching sound, the pod came
apart in his hand sending out a foul, yellow gas.
Immediately, the green glare dimmed. Wide
awake at last, Lin darted to his feet. He watched in
amazement as the gas covered the moss like a thick
blanket, dissolving it, destroying it. Screaming filled
his ears. Was it the voice? Was it the moss? Lin
didn’t know.
As the last remnants of the moss disappeared,
Lin gazed around him with a new determination.
There in front of him were four doors. One was
made of oak, one of ash, one of elm and one of thorn
wood. He opened the nearest and walked through.
Did Lin choose the OAK, ASH, ELM or THORN door?
Oak
Ash
Elm
Thorn
2.The Well of Othene
Instantly, the floor dissolved beneath Lin’s
feet. His screams filled the air, and echoed back at
him as a menacing cacophony, bouncing from the
walls that encased him. If only Lin had taken greater
care over the path he had chosen, he would never
have been facing this dilemma. Over and over he
tumbled, further and further he fell. Panic
consumed him. Free-falling, Lin scrabbled and fought
hopelessly with the air surrounding him, desperately
attempting to grab hold of something, anything that
might halt this seemingly endless fall. Failing at the
first hurdle was unthinkable - Lin felt sure that
Magh would not have predicted that his task would
end so soon, so finally…
Down and further down he descended.
Emptiness encircled him. He glanced upwards, vainly
hoping to see - to see what he really didn’t know, but
anything would be better than this bleak void. What
was happening to him? When would all of this stop?
This must be the end. Lin’s screams
encapsulated his fears; his mind darted through all
of the things he’d done, he’d never get to do, the
task he’d never complete, the village he’d never save.
Suddenly and without warning, Lin’s body
appeared to jolt upwards slightly, and his fall seemed
to take on a more moderate and bearable speed, as if
some unseen force had opened a parachute for him.
Looking downwards, Lin noticed an unearthly light
begin to pierce the surrounding darkness. From this,
he could begin to see he was surrounded by chalky
walls from which hung portraits of what appeared to
be people of generations and times past, faces he
felt he should know. Lin’s fear began to subside.
In an attempt to touch one of the faces, Lin
stretched out his arms but, with nothing to grab hold
of, he was soon sucked back into the centre, as
though catapulted inwards by an invisible piece of
elastic.
A sudden shock, firstly that he was still alive
and, secondly, that ice cold water had sent agonising
shooting pains up his body. He was alive and that was
all that mattered. What he had mistaken for light
coming towards him, had turned out to be the
reflection from a pool of icy water. Gasping for
breath, Lin hoisted himself up over the edge of the
pool, relief and bewilderment overcoming him. Water
dripped from his clothes and turned into ice before
it reached the floor.
Lin found himself standing in a circular
chamber; other than a slight reflection from the
pool, there was no source of natural light. However,
against the walls, a series of naphtha lamps slowly
burned. The closer Lin looked, the more he could
make out a silhouette - but of what?
Approaching gingerly, Lin edged towards the dark
shape. The closer he came, the clearer he could make out
that this was, in fact, a statue, now covered in verdigris;
the result of aeons of time. As Lin traced his hands over
the base of the statue his body stopped shivering from
the cold, his clothes became dry and Lin felt warm and
safe once more. To the side of the statue stood a small
plaque and, engraved in gold lettering, the simple name of
‘Othene’. Something compelled Lin to touch each letter
and, as he traced his finger over the final ‘e’ , a great
breeze swept across the chamber. With a huge grating
sound the statue edged backwards and revealed four
trapdoors, each hewn from a different type of wood.
Excitement filling his veins, Lin knelt down and heaved
open the closest door.
Did Lin choose the OAK, ASH, ELM or THORN door?
Oak
Ash
Elm
Thorn
3.Land Of The Young
As the dark oak door swung open, flames of
sun engulfed Lin. Instantly, a strong magnetic force
took hold of him. He was pulled down and down and
down… through a sea of grass… emerald blades
whipped his cheeks… he instinctively clenched his
lips and tried to shield his eyes with his arms... but
the butchery continued. He was travelling faster
and faster, his heart thudding against the bones of
his rib cage. Now hands were rolling him… over and
over… and over.
His head felt light… he was
drifting… His breath halted.
The next Lin knew he was sitting near a clump
of primroses on the bank of a shallow stream. A
hazy little figure was hoisting herself onto his left
foot. Holding on tightly to a pair of taut laces, she
skillfully positioned herself on the round, shiny
toecap of Lin’s leather walking boot. As he bent
closer, Lin was amazed by what he saw… for, although
she was no bigger than a bumblebee, she was
perfectly formed. She wore a black dress with
three gold harps embroidered solidly on her chest.
Long yellow ringlets fell beneath her shoulders and a
feathered fringe framed the greenest eyes that Lin
had ever seen.
Spacing his finger and thumb gently beneath
her shoulders, Lin lifted her onto the palm of his
hand. He spoke in the gentlest of voices. Barely
audible, it was the loudest voice he dared use.
“And who are you?” he whispered.
“I am little… and I am light… for I am joy,” she
said. And with that she plucked one of the gold
harps from her tunic and flew to the nearest
primrose. She dangled her legs from its yellow
petals, strummed the strings of her harp and sang
the sweetest melody that Lin’s ears had ever heard.
Amber sunrays danced here and there on
copper mounds jutting above the water. At length the
music stopped and a lilting voice spoke:
“I can see you have suffered on your journey
here… as indeed many before you have done. Tell me,
Lin... have you found the wise, old magician you are
looking for?”
Lin was startled… how could she know his
name?… How could she know his quest?
“How do you know me?
enquired.
Who are you?” he
“I already told you… I am joy… Shóna of Tír Ná
Nóg…” and as she spoke, she pointed to the distant
hills. “My land… empty of death… full of young, young
hearts… mirth and magic.”
But before Lin could question her further, she
plucked the second harp from her heart and skipped
onto a moss-covered boulder and danced a reel.
Once again she sang ... and her mellifluous voice rang
out along the banks of the stream. She sang of ‘Tír
Ná Nóg’… where special travellers find what they are
searching for…
At first Lin heard only one voice… then a choir
of voices was echoing all around him...
“ A pocket full of laughter... A pocket full of
tears…
A heart full of magic. A heart full of fears…
Which spurs you forward? Which weighs you down?
A face wrapped in a smile… A face tied in a frown…
Breathe the air of ‘Tír Ná Nóg’
Breathe in deep and sigh…
Swords may pierce Lin’s hopeful heart
But he will never die… “
Much later, as the orange sun rested her chin
on the far banks of the stream, a gentle whisper
brushed Lin’s ear, ‘Awake now from your slumber, Lin.
And find your courage... within… within...’
Lin’s heart fluttered and he slipped a hand
into his breast pocket; there he found four tiny
musical instruments: a harp, a flute, a tambour and a
lute.
Did he play the HARP, FLUTE, TAMBOUR or LUTE?
Harp
Flute
Tambour
Lute
3.Old Father Time
Lin eased his way through the door, tentatively,
feeling jagged splinters pierce the skin on his hands.
In an attempt to keep up his spirits, he thought that
these would be his battle scars, the marks of his
courage.
He found himself at the far end of a long, thin
corridor - but this was no ordinary corridor. Black and
white tiles lined the ceiling and floor, whilst the walls
were made of a million prisms, each turning the
daylight outside into a shower of rainbows. It was like
walking through a kaleidoscope, set between two
gigantic chessboards.
Lin began to inch his way along the corridor.
Curiosity overcoming his fear, he stepped up to one
of the sidewalls to peer through. The prisms
distorted his view, but he could just make out that
beyond the walls lay a world of ice. Snowflakes fell
and danced, ice clung to the trees like sugar frosting
and hung from the ledges like crystal stalactites.
And it seemed like something was moving through
the snow. He could not see it move but he could see a
series of paw prints appearing in the fine powder.
Straining his eyes, Lin could just make out a tiny
creature scuttling busily through the snow, a brown
paper parcel resting in its paws and a pocket watch
swinging frantically from its waistcoat.
Lin walked on and approached a large clock
face that hung from the ceiling like a giant pendulum,
swinging metronomically backwards and forwards in
time with its tick and tock. But, as he passed the
clock, he found himself stepping out into a field of
daffodils blooming and swaying in time with a gentle
spring breeze. Turning around, Lin stared back at
where he had come from - the clock face, back to
front now, was still swinging – but the corridor had
gone.
“Welcome, my friend”.
Lin shot around to see the voice belonged to
an old, white-bearded man, who was carrying a silver
scythe.
Lin.
“Who…who are you? Where am I?” questioned
The old man laid down the scythe and smiled.
“You will soon see, in time…”
As he spoke, Lin noticed a heavy, wooden
hourglass dangling from the old man’s cloak. Instead
of grains of sand, this hourglass held multicoloured
digits, each helping to calculate the passing of time.
“Here, catch!” motioned the old man, as he
threw the hourglass into Lin’s already outstretched
hands. And, as Lin cupped his hands to cushion its
fall, a blast of bright white light blazed across the
sky, breaking up into minute fragments of colour as
it fell to the ground.
Lin’s feet were swept from beneath him and
his body spiralled through time. Fireworks of colour
exploded and swirled all around him. What was
happening to him?
Half opening his left eye, Lin looked around
him and realised he was back in the corridor, facing
the still swinging clock face. Lin scratched his head
in disbelief, unsure about the last few seconds . . .
or was it minutes, or hours…? The corridor
appeared unchanged, yet Lin felt things had
changed…
He looked down into his hands and realised
he was holding a parcel, wrapped up in brown paper.
Carefully, untying the string, Lin revealed a heavy,
wooden box fastened by a broken clasp. Lifting the
lid, Lin saw four beautiful musical instruments. A
hastily scribbled note read as follows:
To the Keeper
Choose an instrument
Play it well
Face the clock
And time will tell
in time to the tick
in time to the tock
You must play a tune
And unlock this lock
Did he play the HARP, FLUTE, TAMBOUR or LUTE?
Harp
Flute
Tambour
Lute
3. The Banquet
The ancient Elm door closed silently behind
him and a vast banqueting hall unfolded ahead. When
Lin's eyes grew accustomed to the murkiness, he
saw the walls were swathed in moss and crisscrossed with ivy. In the centre stood a hexagonal
table spread with six silver platters, five laden with
fruit and one upturned. Four squat lifeless trees
stood sentinel at the furthermost edges. Four
enormous birds glowered at him, one from each tree.
Tiny beads of sweat dampened Lin's palms. His
heartbeat deafened him. His tribe's destiny was a
vice around his soul. Believe in yourself, his
grandfather had admonished when the other boys
had taunted him; now was surely a time to heed that
counsel. He took a long slow breath, puffed out his
chest and stretched to his fullest height. One step.
Another. He edged forward.
A screech pierced the gloom, like lightening
splits an ebony sky. The eagle spread its majestic
wings and soared towards the cavernous ceiling,
before plunging towards Lin at such speed that he
was flung to the ground by the force of the wind.
The eagle circled and landed. Lin hauled himself to
his knees, in time to watch both tree and eagle
transform. Now seated on a gnarled chair at the
table was aged man, his nose hooked, his scrawny
neck bent towards his feathered tunic. He began
eating fruit, his talons piercing and tearing their
skins.
The owl and the crane took off together and
dived and swooped, keeping Lin pinned to the floor.
At last, as they climbed, Lin spun onto his back,
raised himself onto one elbow and held his other arm
rigid, towards them, to fend them off. They
careered towards him, then, without any explanation,
they slowed, hovered momentarily, and they too
settled at the table. The owl, as short as the crane
was tall, was wide with a rounded face and a snub
nose. The crane was slender with a long pointed nose
crowning her angular features.
Before the raven could take its turn in the
onslaught, Lin was on his feet, his courage pulsing in
torrents around his body, his arms across his face,
willing himself to complete his task. The raven simply
fluttered from branch to table like a whisper on the
breeze. She too transformed. Her hair, glistening
like a seam of wet coal, tumbled down her back as
she turned and fixed her mesmerising eyes on the
boy.
“Join us, your journey is long. You must be
hungry,” she cawed.
They sat in twos at the table - man and
woman, cock and hen- between them were empty
seats. The creatures that had attacked him
moments before now sought his company.
“This seat is yours,” she continued.
Lin perched on the seat in front of the fifth
platter.
“Who sat there?” Lin asked, motioning
towards the last upturned plate opposite him.
“The magician, who came before you,” she
croaked in reply.
Lin felt his body soften. He must be on the
right track at last; a magician had already passed
this way. He looked from one strange creature to
another as they nodded towards his plate. He chose
an apple full of rosy promise. As he rubbed it, all the
beauty and hopes in the world appeared, lying like a
burden upon him. Wiping the trickling juice from his
chin, he noticed the creatures had vanished and in
their place lay a harp, a flute, a tambour, and a lute.
He leaned forward, took one and began softly to
play.
Did he play the HARP, FLUTE, TAMBOUR or LUTE?
Harp
Flute
Tambour
Lute
3.The Great Bear
The heavy, thorn door slammed shut again
behind him. It had no handle on Lin’s side and there
was no way back. He leaned against it to gather
himself, take stock. It felt solid and safe behind
him.
But there was nothing safe in what Lin saw
before him - nothing safe at all. His heart jumped
and then raced. He took in a sharp breath. The urge
to flee surged through him, and in panic he turned
again to scrabble at the door. No handle. No escape.
He knew that. Was there another way out?
Somewhere to hide? There was nowhere.
He was in a sort of dungeon, a large square
space without windows or doors, except for the door
behind him. Floor, walls, ceiling seemed to be of solid
rock. There was a dim half-light, but where it came
from Lin could not tell. More than anything there was
a smell. A strong, rank, animal smell that made him
almost gag. Near the centre of the room was a
wooden chest, and, near that, the source of the
smell, the source of Lin’s terror, the nightmare he
wished to flee, but couldn’t.
Filling half the middle of the room was a huge
pile of shaggy, matted fur, soaked in patches with
something black and noxious – sweat or blood? From
near one end, black eyes glared at Lin with a fierce
hate. As the boy stood, transfixed, the vast mound
heaved onto enormous feet, feet with claws like filed
daggers, scraping and gouging the floor. It lurched
towards him. It opened monstrous jaws. A dark red
chasm of mouth gaped. A black tongue lolled. Vicious,
yellowed teeth parted and saliva dribbled like pus.
Then a noise from end of the earth hit Lin like a blow
and he gagged again at a blast of sweet and foetid
breath.
It was the most enormous, the most terrible
bear, a creature of pure nightmare.
The bear lurched at Lin again, and the dark
hatred of its eyes burned into him. Its jaws
crunched. Its great paws slashed, inches from Lin’s
face. He flattened himself against the door. Then he
saw that the bear was chained to an iron ring in the
floor. The chain stopped the creature from reaching
Lin – just. It left only inches of space against the
door as any sort of refuge. But it gave him chance to
find his breath, to find himself again.
Then Lin looked back into the fierce eyes of
the bear. He looked with a gaze that was straight
and strong. He looked into the greatest hatred and
anger he had ever seen. But he looked beyond that
too. And beyond the bear’s rage he saw a landscape
of snow. He saw men with spears. He saw the body of
a bear cub, slung by its feet from wooden poles and
carried off in triumph. He saw another cub, its body
gashed open, its fur ripped away. He saw bear blood
on snow. And then he understood the bear’s rage. He
understood its sorrow, its despair.
So Lin spoke to the bear, in a voice that was
full of grief, and understanding. He spoke of loss and
death and snow. He shared the bear’s pain and, as he
spoke, the great bear calmed, settled, lay down. And
when the boy and bear had wept inside together, the
bear slept.
Lin went over to the chest and opened it.
Inside were musical instruments, a harp, a flute, a
tambour and a lute. He picked one up and played it,
gently, to the sleeping bear.
Did he play the HARP, FLUTE, TAMBOUR or LUTE?
Harp
Flute
Tambour
Lute
4.The Island of Glass
As Lin played the harp he felt himself
transported on a wave of magical sound. Light
spiralled and flamed around him. A river of patterns
swirled. Time and the world turned, and Lin melted
through them until he found himself on a stony
shore at the edge of a vast, dark lake. Behind him
cliffs soared, solid and sheer as far as he could see,
and further, into a great darkness where the sky
should have been. That is why the water looks so
black, he thought. There is no sky here to reflect in
it.
Yet there was light of a kind - a pale, hard
light that skimmed the dark surface like a thrown
stone, without sinking in. The light came from an
island far out in the middle of the lake. The island
itself was beaming out the cold, sharp rays. It was
made entirely of glass.
Lin turned to the cliff. It held one small rocky
shelf where he placed the instrument. It seemed to
belong there and began to play itself, almost
inaudibly. But Lin did not belong. There was water in
front of him, rock behind, and only a small space of
shingle between the two. He did the only thing he
thought he could. He turned and walked with the
cliff on his right hand, the water on is left, along the
narrow shore. He walked for what seemed hours,
days, always the cliff to his right, the lake to his
left, unchanging. At last he heard the faintest hint
of music ahead. He hastened towards it and found
the instrument on its rocky shelf, exactly as he had
left it. He was back where he had started.
He sat on the shore exhausted, gazing towards
the island of glass. The island! That was the way to
go. Could he swim so far? He rose and stepped
towards the waters edge, then into its icy darkness.
No sooner had he broken the surface than the water
foamed and churned. The slimy tentacles of some
unspeakable thing snaked out towards him, reached
for him, grabbed at him, drove him, stumbling, back
against the cliff.
He stood and stared at the island, close to
despair. Was there no way off this shore? He
needed a boat, but there was no boat – only cliff and
shore and terrible water. He imagined the boat he
needed. He could picture it in his mind. He could see
its grooved planking. He could see its curving prow.
He could smell the good wood, and feel its
roughness. He could hear the water lapping against
its sides. He could feel the gravel scrunch as he
edged the boat away from the shore.
He stepped into it and pushed off. The boat
was floating now out into the lake. Again the water
stirred and bubbled, but this time no tentacles
appeared, only a human arm rising from the depths.
Its hand held a long, plain staff of wood. It offered
up the staff and Lin reached out to take it. He stood
then in the middle of the boat holding the staff high
and horizontal in front of him. He imagined himself a
mast. He imagined a sail. He imagined a wind that
drove him steadily to the shore of the glass island.
Lin stepped from the boat onto the island still
carrying the staff. As he stepped, the staff struck
the glass. It struck with a crack that echoed around
the island, and a spectrum of light shot from the
glass, splitting into intense beams. Rainbow bridges
of light vaulted out from the island across the dark
water. Bridges of blue, green, indigo and violet light
solidified in front of Lin, and he stepped resolutely
onto one of them.
Did he use the BLUE, GREEN, INDIGO or VIOLET bridge?
Blue
Green
Indigo
Violet
4.The Theatre of Colours
Holding the flute to his lips, Lin began to play.
Instinctively, his hands knew which keys to press
and the music flowed, filling the air with the
clearest, most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.
He felt his eyelids drooping as the music enveloped
his body.
“You are completely safe,” spoke a voice, as
soft arms caught him. “I am Minerva, goddess of the
flute.”
He awoke to find himself sitting in front of a
tall, thin building; naphtha torches illuminating a sign
advertising the next show. The town was deserted.
Lin felt, that having ventured this far, not much
more could faze him, so he bypassed the entrance
gate, and went in…
All was silent. Litter was strewn across the
floor. It was as though time had frozen and someone
had taken a photograph of the moment.
A hundred or more seats lay empty and a deep
red velvet curtain hung from ceiling to floor.
“Please take a seat, Lin,” a gentle voice
beckoned.
Lin could see no one. The voice continued.
“Do not fear, my friend, you are completely
safe…”
Completely safe? Those words echoed back
from his memory, but Minerva’s hidden voice still did
not take on an image.
As Lin sat down, flutes played sweet music,
the curtain rose and the show began.
It told the tale of an ancient tribe and their
epic battle against the forces of darkness. Two great
armies faced each other on either side of the stage.
Slowly, they advanced, setting about each other with
a fury so terrible that it could be no theatre show.
Lin was witnessing grim reality.
Faintly visible through the mass of people, Lin
noticed a young boy dressed all in red. Everything
else seemed to be in black and white, so the boy
stood out in sharp contrast.
The boy looked very familiar – indeed, very like
Lin himself. It was as though Lin were being shown
his inner self, his alter ego.
Without warning, an invisible energy seemed
to draw him towards the stage. He stood up and,
unable to resist the pull, walked towards the boy in
red. Nearer and nearer he was drawn, until they
could almost shake hands. The two boys were
standing directly opposite each other, maybe only
centimetres away. Lin was on the stage. No longer a
spectator but a living, breathing character in the
midst of a real battle.
The boy held out his hand to Lin and offered
him a sword. It was fantastically light, and cut
through the air with the swiftness of a bird. Lin felt
as if it had belonged to him all his life.
Lin turned to thank the boy, only to find that he
had vanished. Looking down at himself, Lin realised he
himself was now dressed in red, just as the boy had been.
He realised that this was the sword he had always been
destined to have, and that with it he could move closer to
fulfilling his task – to find the sleeping magician and wake
him.
Without warning, the armies disappeared and
Lin was left alone. Lin forced the sword into the
earth beneath him. As he removed it, the sky lit up
with a dazzling spectrum of colour. As it calmed, the
colour spilt downwards, and fell to Earth, forming
four beautiful bridges around him. Each bridge
pointed in each direction of the compass – N, S, E
and W - and each was a different colour. Sword in
hand, Lin stood in the centre and contemplated which
bridge to take.
Did he use the BLUE, GREEN, INDIGO or VIOLET bridge?
Blue
Green
Indigo
Violet
4. The Open Sea
Lin beat the tambour softly and steadily. Its
note was low. The rhythm, muffled and softly
pounding, half-reminded him of something, but he
could not think what. The memory was too deep.
He walked on, without knowing where.
Lin was walking down a passage more slimy
even than the entrance in the barrow. He could hear
the hiss and slither of his feet in water on a hard,
stony floor. It seemed he had gone for hours when
he began to notice a change. The water beneath him
was getting deeper so that, as he walked, he was
kicking up great splashes. He wondered if he might
be reaching the banks of a river or the edge of a
great lake.
Then he became aware of another rhythm. At
first he thought it was the sound of the blood
rushing through his ears, his own breath surging in
his chest, but soon it was unmistakable - the sound
of the sea. As the pounding got nearer, the water
level rose. Then came a new fear; if the level rose
any more it would become impossible to continue
walking. He would have to swim. And Lin had never
learned to swim.
The water had reached his thighs and he tried
edging across the passage to see if it was shallower
at either side. But the narrow passage gave him
little option – a few steps either way and he came up
against the cold damp stones of the walls. The water
was on his chest and soon he knew it would be over
his head. His only real choices were to go on – or to
go back. Lin thought of the tribe waiting around the
fire, hours behind him on the other side of the
barrow. All their hope was on him. To go back would
be deep shame or perhaps worse. No, he would
continue. He would trust to his own strong will, his
commitment to saving his people.
He took a breath and allowed the water to lift
him off his feet. He gasped as the water pulled him,
pushed him and then, amazingly, held him up. He
moved his feet, partly in panic, partly in a desperate
attempt to move forward, and felt a sudden
exhilaration. He couldn’t feel the floor beneath him,
but he wasn’t sinking. Extraordinary! This was
swimming! He kept his head high, gulping more air in,
and moved his arms around. He grew more confident
and moved faster and then, looking up, he saw above
him a single star. He was out of the passage. He was
in the open sea. And if he was in the sea there must,
somewhere, be a shore. He continued thrashing
around in the water, becoming increasingly frantic.
Just then, the moon came out from behind a
cloud.
The eerie silvery light showed Lin the
seascape in front of him. Off to the left he saw a
beach. He hurried towards it, swimming furiously,
and hauled himself up on the shore. By the light of
the moon he saw a wooden staff planted in the sand.
As his hand reach out and took it four bridges of
pure light appeared, arching off into the distance
across the pounding sea, like single-coloured
rainbows.
Did he use the BLUE, GREEN, INDIGO or VIOLET bridge?
Blue
Green
Indigo
Violet
4.A Grandmother’s Gift
Lin knelt, fingering the strings of the lute.
The gentle notes began to swirl around him, folding
him inside a cloud of sound.
In his mind’s eye, he was transported back to
his grandmother’s cottage. He could see her wise,
wrinkled face. He could feel the roughness of her
work worn hands. But those hands! They had the
power to play a lute as no one else in the village, in
the whole of the valley, ever could.
“Learn to play, boy’ encouraged his
grandmother. ‘Learn to play and freedom will be
yours.’
A hard task, but Lin had learned to play. His
knowing grandmother had sat, smiling at all his
efforts, and then one day had declared “Ah - now you
have learned! Mark my words, lovely boy, the spirits
themselves are quietened by your skill.”
Waking from his daydream, Lin stood up.
Moving cautiously across the gloomy room, he headed
towards a dimly lit archway. Now that he had stopped
playing, the stillness settled to the floor like dust. No
danger was apparent, so he stepped more confidently
towards the light.
Suddenly, Lin sensed a presence.
“Friend or foe?”
His voice echoed to the vaulted roof. No
answer came. Lin’s skin felt cold. Clammy sweat
formed on his brow and palms. He held tightly to the
neck of the lute. It was his talisman, perhaps the
salvation for his tribe, and, whatever happened, he
would not let it from his grasp!
The air before him began suddenly to crackle
and spark. Flashes of iridescent light filled the
space, and shadowy forms began to sweep and swirl
around the room. As he watched, the forms grew in
size; their frenzied movements sent fear rippling
through Lin’s bones. Swooping, closer and closer.
Brushing his skin. Their evil reached into his very
soul, grasping his thoughts, sucking at his will. Lin
could feel his strength seeping away, an aching
tiredness threatening to overcome him. Visions
played in his head: Magh, magicians, ghostly warriors,
ghostly kings and ... grandmother?
“Play, boy! Play!”
Lin struggled to rouse himself.
“Use your skill, little one. Use your skill, my
shining lad!”
His grandmother’s face flickered before him,
and, with the last remnants of his strength, Lin
lifted the lute and began to play.
Notes floated into the air, whirling upwards,
buffeted by the shadows. Thin at first, the music
seemed to have little effect. Then, Lin felt freedom
in his soul. The spectres’ grasp slowly loosened.
Renewed, he played on, faster now. He watched as
the forms began to shy away. Penetrated by the
swelling music, their substance evaporated. A space
appeared between Lin and the arch.
Without hesitation, Lin leaped towards the arch,
and passed through. The vapour -trail forms suddenly
found their voices. They screeched behind him, but
could not follow.
A cloaked figure, it’s head shrouded by a hood,
stood blocking the passage. Lin’s heart lurched, as he
peered into the gloom, and spied a smooth, ash staff
raised against him. Beyond that, a deep chasm. Was
there no escape? What threat faced him now?
The figure pushed back its hood, and offered
the staff to Lin. He took a deep breath, as he clasped
the warm wood.
“How did you get here?” he stammered.
“I’m always with you, child,” his grandmother
replied softly. “Now, you must choose.”
She stretched out her arm. Hanging like a
screen, instead of the coarse woollen fabric that Lin
remembered, the cloak shimmered bands of blue,
green, indigo and violet.
His grandmother beckoned. Lin touched the
cloak with the staff, and saw the colours spring into
bridges across the chasm. He met his grandmother’s
reassuring gaze, then stepped forward onto a bridge.
Did he use the BLUE, GREEN, INDIGO or VIOLET bridge?
Blue
Green
Indigo
Violet
5.The Lens of Truth
Lin awoke from a deep slumber. Where was
he? Who was he? Lin searched his brain frantically
for fragments of memory, anything that might help
him piece together his past. He could remember
nothing, not even his name.
He was in a small cave. Lin eased himself up,
his body aching. He took one step forward before
stopping in his tracks. A tiny bear-like creature
scuttled towards him.
“Good evening, Lin,” spoke the creature. “I hope you
feel recovered and rested, ready for the final part
of your quest.”
Lin stuttered in confusion. “My name is Lin? What is
my quest? Who are you?”
“Do not fear, your memory will return. I am Tarik.
Sit down and I shall help you to recall your
memories.”
Tarik told Lin of his past, of Barrow Hill, his tribe,
his quest. Lastly, he spoke to him of his journey to
the cave…
“As I saw you crossing the bridge of blue light, I
heard the attack cries of the Eagle of Doom. Once in
its eyrie, death is certain. I knew you were in mortal
danger. The Eagle swooped down and caught you in its
talons. I fired my arrows at it but, even as they
pierced its side and it released you, I realised you
would fall into the waters beneath, the Waters of
Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness. That is why your
memory is now lost, but not lost forever …
“You, Lin, are of immense importance to your village,
to us all. You are nearing the end of a quest that has
required great bravery. You must find the magician,
who sleeps on a hill not far from this cave. To
complete your quest and for your memory to return,
you must follow the Lens of Truth. It lies within the
Magician’s Maze which guards the hill.”
Lin hugged Tarik, thanked him for his hospitality and
promised to return.
At the foot of the hill stood hundreds of trees,
their dense green foliage forming an impenetrable
wall. To his right, a small object glistened. As Lin
went to touch it, it vanished, a door appearing in its
place. Cautiously, Lin pushed open the door and went
through. The same object appeared in front of him.
Again, as he reached for it, it vanished - this time
reappearing 10 metres to his left.
The object was leading the way. As Lin moved to
touch it, each time it would reappear here or there,
guiding Lin through the twists and turns of foliage.
Turning a corner, Lin realised he had reached the
centre of the maze. The object fell to rest on a
stone table. Lin saw that it was circular, and made of
glass.
Was this the ‘Lens of Truth’ of which Tarik had
spoken? Taking it from the table, Lin held it up to
the sky. Looking through, he began to remember.
Barrow Hill, his quest, the lands he’d visited all
flooded into view. He saw Magh smiling, his people
cheering, his village saved. How could that be?
Looking closer still, he saw himself standing guard
over his tribe. He had discovered the truth. He had
awakened the magician in himself, and with his newly
found powers would lead his people to safety.
He replaced the Lens on the table. As he did so a
magnificent golden bird descended from the heavens.
It did not speak, but Lin recognised it as the Phoenix of
the Barrow – the sign that hope was returning to his
village. The bird rose into the air once more, and Lin
followed it to meet his destiny.
5. The Ascent of Truth
Gossamer threads of green light spun from the
bridge and cascaded through Lin's body, dizzying
him. Needles of trepidation quivered across his skin,
as he struggled to keep his balance. He watched in
awe, as the emerald skeins gushed from his staff
and stealthily wove themselves into warrior after
warrior. The bridge was soon consumed by the legion
before him.
The phantom army stretched to the horizon
and beyond, each champion carrying a staff identical
to his own. Transfixed, Lin knew the magician was
stirring.
The soft downy hair on Lin's neck bristled; his
skin became clammy as he sensed a presence at his
back. Turning, a majestic apparition in form and the
ghostly king solidified before his eyes. It stood
cloaked in knowledge, a halo of wisdom for his crown.
Lin cast his command, “I've come to wake the
magician.”
The phantom king stood at the bottom of a
stone staircase that curled up into the heavens. Lin
wondered at the stairway, as both end and beginning
appeared together. It went neither up nor down, yet
he could clearly see each step was higher than the
last.
“The ascent of truth lies before you.
Where left becomes right,
And right becomes left.
Where seeing is disbelieving
You will find that which you seek.”
The king's words were resolute. Lin did not yet
understand, but he did the only thing he could.
Placing his staff on the stone, he climbed onto the
first step. At that moment, the king and his warriors
crumbled, scattering like memories in a dream. Lin
was alone.
Step after step, hour after hour, age after age Lin
climbed. He didn't understand. The staircase led
nowhere. Anger and frustration exploded in his veins.
“MAGICIAN, I can't find you,” he roared, hurling
his staff into the timeless void.
The staff landed softly at the edge of a pool, its
waters swirling wildly. Lin, his anger spent, stepped
up to the waters edge, leant forward and collected
his staff. As he bent, scooping one hand to drink, the
waters calmed. Realisation pierced like an arrow. He
gazed into the crystal waters, cupping his left hand,
clasping the staff in the right. There, peering back
at him was another Lin cupping his right hand,
clasping the staff in his left. Lin stared, disbelieving.
He plunged his face into the cool waters, drinking its
secrets. He felt its sweetness slide across his tongue
and trickle down his throat to refresh him; its purity
washed the mist from his eyes. His fears and doubts
settled into courage and hope. The time had come. His
time had come. Voices in his head echoed, “Are you
ready? We're waiting.”
“Lin, are you ready?” questioned Magh. “We're waiting.
The borders.”
Lin, lifting his head, pressing his fist to his heart,
nodded to the council gathered around the village
drinking pool.
He paused, “I'm ready.”
He raised his staff and watched the magic begin to
flow.
5.The Magician
As Lin stepped off the indigo bridge it faded into
darkness behind him. He found himself in a vast,
pillared hall, lit by flickering torches. In the
shadows lurked warriors in full battle gear, chain
coats, iron helmets, iron shields. Lin stood
transfixed. More and more warriors appeared. They
advanced on him with a menacing, rhythmic clank.
Rank upon rank they rolled towards him, like the
waves of metal sea. And as they came they drew
weapons and held them aloft to threaten him,
swords, axes, maces. Clank. Clank. Bearing down.
Encroaching. Enclosing. Clank. Clank. Clank.
In panic Lin lifted the staff he was carrying to
try to defend himself, a futile weapon against
armour and swords. Yet, suddenly, the warriors gave
way, parted ranks. Between them strode forward a
king, crowned and with one hand of shining silver.
“Who is it that you seek?” asked the king.
“The magician,” said Lin, “the one who sleeps.”
The warriors parted further and the king pointed
with his silver hand to a curtain covering what must
be a doorway. The curtain was woven with a strange
spiral pattern. Lin approached and cautiously pulled it
aside. Beyond was a small chamber completely walled
with mirrors. But inside the chamber there was
nothing, nothing at all.
“There’s no-one in there,” said Lin despairingly. “I’ve
come all this way, and the sleeping magician has
gone.”
But still the king pointed beyond the curtain, into the
chamber.
“Enter, boy. You will find the magician.”
Unsure, Lin looked at him. He looked deep into the
king’s eyes and found there truth, and a promise. He
followed the unwavering arm, the resolutely pointing
hand. He walked slowly past the spiralled curtain and
into the chamber. Then he stopped. He stared. He
saw himself, himself from every side. Multiple
mirrored images of Lin stared back at him. In every
hand of every Lin he saw the staff he still held. And
every staff in every hand glowed with the light of
magical power.
He turned then, and left the chamber. He found
himself no longer in the hall of the warriors, but
back at the centre of the barrow. Great slabs of
ancient stone surrounded him again on every side. A
voice from the tribe outside found its echoing way
through some unseen gap.
“Are you there, Lin? Did you find the magician? Did
you wake him?”
“Yes,” said Lin. “I think I did.”
He raised the staff, his staff. The stone around him
dissolved away. He stood on a rounded hilltop, all the folk
of his own tribe clustered before him. Then he lifted his
staff higher still and magic burst from its tip like light
streaming from a star. Lin’s magic streamed to the
eastern horizon, where it danced with the fire of a
flaming dawn. It streamed to the far, far north where it
kissed the misty air of mountains. It streamed to the
south where it enfolded the resinous dark of a wild
forest. It streamed to the west where it glinted off the
dancing waves of the distant sea.
5. Lin Alone
With the hollow echoing of his own footsteps
ringing in his ears, Lin reached the end of the violet
bridge and stared mortified into an abyss of
emptiness. His eyes strained in an attempt to make
out shapes and patterns around him, but he found
that only a pale white light reflected back at him.
All around him was a dense white fog, as though the
gods had taken away the earth and the sky and left
nothing in their place.
Cautiously, he slipped one foot out in front of him
and watched the white clouds swirl around it, as if
they were waiting to engulf it. Gathering his staff in
his hand and his courage in his heart, he stood at the
edge of the bridge, eyes fixed downwards, and
stepped off the bridge with his heart pounding.
Suddenly Lin felt unfamiliar ground beneath his
feet. The white mist began to clear and Lin could see
a dark shape moving slowly towards him from the
distance. Slowly, two menacing red eyes appeared
from the fog, which was now clearing, and he could
see that he was in some kind of underground cave.
Lin's heart beat faster, as if it was struggling to
break free of his small chest. As the eyes grew larger
and larger, Lin could see that they belonged to a
dragon - a vast, scaly, dark dragon, whose smoky
breath filled the cave as it moved steadily towards
him with great lumbering footsteps.
Lin's fingers gripped the wooden staff tightly and
he crouched down low to the cave floor. The dragon
was now staring straight into his eyes, as if to
mesmerise him with fear. Suddenly, the dragon raised
its scaly head and fire thundered from its nostrils at
the exact moment that Lin threw himself across the
floor and out of its range. The dragon didn't wait
before turning on Lin again, who was now backed
tightly into a dark corner of the cave.
Lin noticed a small crevice higher up in the cave
wall and managed to secure one foot into it before
the dragon took a mighty breath in and opened its
great mouth to reveal his black teeth like great
shards of stone. With one great leap, Lin threw
himself towards the dragon's mouth; his staff raised
aloft and rammed it with all his might into the
dragon’s mouth, so that its jaw was locked. Landing
heavily on his side, Lin hauled himself to his feet
with a sense of amazement that his plan had worked
and ran back to the crevice in the wall, which he
managed to drag himself up and into.
At first there was only darkness, until Lin appeared on
the other side of the cavern. An old man lay silently on a
ledge formed from the cavern wall.
"Are you the magician who sleeps?" asked Lin
nervously.
"A magician is what I once was, before those around
me lost faith in me" he replied, and I lost my powers and
was condemned here to the edge of the world, until one
true of spirit and soul, believed in me again. That person
is you my boy, you have released me."
" I need your help" Lin pleaded. “My tribe faces
terrible danger. You saved us once, but will you help us
now?"
“It is you that has saved me, and although you
don't yet know it, saved your people,” The magician
replied. “But I have something, which may help you.”
He produced a small silver pouch.
“Whenever you feel your fear approaching,
whether it comes from the clatter of enemy hooves,
or from inside your very own heart, hold tight onto
this necklace and trust in yourself, and the magic of a
thousand wizards will be released.”
Lin opened the silver bag and pulled out a magic
necklace, which he immediately put on. He felt its
power, felt the ground beneath him sway and the mist
roll back. When it cleared he was home again,
standing alone at the campfire - alone, but ready to
do battle.
The End