A Wizard of Dreams (Myrddin's Heir Book 1)

  Kieran stopped dead in shock. Dean, whose eyes had also been closed, cannoned into the back of him. “LOOK WHAT YOU DID!” Kieran snarled, ice-cream dripping off the end of his nose. He lunged at Dean in an attempt to drive Dean’s ice-cream a similar distance up his nose. Dean jerked his ice-cream out of harm’s way, and his softening dollop of Mr Whippy plopped out the top of his cone. It slopped on to the tarmac.

  “LOOK WHAT YOU JUST DID!!” Dean yelled, staring at his empty cone.

  Kieran pointed at the rapidly melting mess on the floor and jeered. “NA NA NA-NA NA - SERVES YER RIGHT!” He brought his ice cream up to rub Dean’s nose in the fact that he still had some ice cream. This time his arm went straight past his face and threw what was left over his right shoulder.

  The pair of them stood and stared at each other, each clutching an empty cone with a soggy top. “SEE!” Dean said, with sensitivity and tact. “YOU CAN’T SAY I DID THAT, YER DIV!”

  “’OO ARE YOU CALLIN A DIV? - YER DING!” Gordon was suddenly reminded of the trolls arguing about how best to cook dwarves. His dad was reading The Hobbit to him at bedtime each night.

  “SHUT UP THE PAIR OF YER! SERVES YER BLEEDIN’ RIGHT! YER GET NUFFIN’ NOW, NEEVER OF YER!” Kieran’s mum drove them towards Mark, the Enjoy-A-Ball instructor, who was standing at the entrance to the Sports Hall.

  Victor and Gordon started out after them, a safe distance behind. “Whoops,” Victor said, before they had gone more than six steps, “forgot to lock the car.” He patted his trouser pocket to check the keys were there and heard the car lock behind him. “Whoah,” he said. “It’s never done that before.”

  “You must have hit the lock button when you slapped your pocket,” Gordon suggested innocently.

  His dad nodded. “I must have.”

  This ability to move things from a distance was turning out to be fun, now that he was trained up a bit, and getting the hang of it. “Just be careful,” Zack warned him. “Don’t get carried away!”

  Chapter 15

  Sticking To The Rules

  Mark started the session as usual by throwing his large bagful of soft balls all over the floor. The rule was: you brought one ball each back to him. He congratulated each child as she or he brought their ball back and put it in his bag. For some children, however, rules are made to be broken. He didn’t notice Kieran shove the smallest girl in the group to one side and grab her ball. She went sprawling as he ran back yelling “I’ve got TWO!”

  “How many times, Kieran?” Mark asked him. He looked up to see who didn’t have one, and spotting Susie picking herself up and rubbing her knee. “Only one each.” He threw a ball to Susie, who bravely scooped it up and scampered over with it.

  “Forgot,” said Kieran, adding the lie to his list of offences with the session only one minute underway. He ran to the line of eagerly waiting children and shouldered his way into it next to Dean. The whole line shuffled backwards to accommodate him. Susie ran to the end of the line farthest away from Kieran.

  “What a toe-rag,” Zack growled.

  Gordon agreed. “Is it ‘Lessons will be learned’ time?”

  “I don’t know if they’ll be learned,” Zack muttered, “but we can certainly have a go at teaching them.”

  “Just remember,” Gordon warned him, “we’re being careful.” He knew Zack had a thing about bullies. There was just a chance he would get carried away.

  The first game was simple and good fun. Everyone had a ball. The idea was to chase another person and throw your ball at them. If you hit them with it, they had to stand still with their legs spread out. You could ‘release’ them by clambering between their legs. The game went on until Mark called time.

  Gordon looked out for the smaller children while doing his best to hit the bigger, rougher boys with his ball. With Zack on rear-view recce and his extra turn-of-speed, he could dodge, hit and release in quick succession.

  Kieran thought it was more fun to slam-dunk his ball as hard as he could on a smaller child’s head. The balls were soft, but it made the more anxious kids flinch and fear for their eyes. Gordon had just released one of the smaller ones when he saw Kieran rush at Susie and launch himself into the air.

  Gordon’s eyes narrowed, and Kieran found himself held, just for a fraction of a second, at the highest point of his jump. It was enough to make his ball whistle harmlessly over Susie’s head. The rapid swing of his arm pulled him forward while he was still in the air, and he ended up B-over-H on the floor.

  “YES!” Zack yelled. He loved seeing justice done without the need for a lengthy trial.

  It wasn’t long before Dean had grabbed a second ball. Gordon spotted which little boy was now without one. By this time, Dean was chasing down another child. He launched one of the balls he was carrying straight at her. Gordon caught it in his gaze and bent it through an impressive curve to fly back towards the little boy who didn’t have one. “Catch!” he called out. The boy stuck his hands out without much hope and was amazed when the ball stuck to them. He was able to grab it and hold on.

  “I caught it! I CAUGHT it!” he shouted. His eyes shone with the pleasure of his achievement.

  Dean had no idea why his ball had curved away like that. He followed its flight and saw the little kid catch it. “That’s MINE!” he yelled. He bore down on the kid, with Gordon heading in the same direction. Mark heard the yell, spun around and summed up the situation straight away.

  “LEAVE IT DEAN!” he called out. “You’ve got yours. Only one each!” Dean skidded to a halt. While he was checking to see how far away Mark was, Gordon caught him with a beauty, bouncing it right off the middle of his forehead.

  “You MISSED!” Dean cried. Lying came to him as easily as breathing. He went to set off again, only to discover that his left foot was stuck to the floor. He wobbled precariously for a moment before regaining his balance. He then discovered that he couldn’t move his right foot either. His legs were now seriously apart and at an awkward angle.

  “K!” he yelled. Kieran, seeing his friend’s predicament, assumed that he was asking to be rescued and tried to dive between his oddly twisted legs. Gordon released Dean just as Kieran cannoned into the back of his right knee, and Dean was bowled over like a skittle. He rolled backwards on top of the under-passing Kieran. The extra weight caused Kieran’s four limbs to splay out sideways. For a moment, they were frontback / backfront. It was a spectacular tangle.

  “DIV!”

  “DING!”

  Yep, most definitely: the stone trolls in The Hobbit.

  NOTES

  RECCE; B OVER H

  Chapter 16

  The enjoy-A-Ball Handicap Stakes

  “We’re going to have a relay race next.”

  “ME! ME! ME!!” Kieran yelled. He jumped up and down with his arm stuck in the air.

  “All right Kieran, you can be a captain this week, which means you won’t be next week, OK? Who’d like to be captain of the other team?” There was an absence of enthusiasm, so Gordon stepped into the breach. Cometh the hour, cometh the child.

  “ME FIRST PICK! ME FIRST PICK!” Kieran shouted.

  “How many times, Kieran?! Gordon, you first pick.”

  “Susie,” said Gordon. Normally the last to be picked, Susie was amazed and delighted. She scampered over to Gordon.

  “Loser!” Kieran jeered at Gordon. “D!” Dean swaggered over to Kieran.

  “Peter” said Gordon, pointing at the next smallest child.

  “Walk-over!” Kieran boasted in advance. “Warren!”

  And so it went on. All the bigger, stronger, longer-legged boys were on Kieran’s side. Gordon had every single younger, smaller, less confident child on his team.

  “We’ll pulverise you!” Kieran exulted.

  “No, you won’t,” Gordon told him calmly.

  “Wanna bet?!”

  “No need.”

  “CHICKEN! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!” Kieran mocked, walking around with his elbows flapping.

  ?
??KIERAN!” Mark said, “This is meant to be a bit of fun.” He told the captains to line up their teams in the order each member would run.

  Gordon gathered his team round him. “Susie, you go first, and I’ll go last. The rest of you, line up as you like.” Obediently they formed their line and were ready a full minute before Kieran’s team, most of whom were still arguing about what order they should run in.

  Each leg was the width of the hall and back. Mark handed out the batons, and Kieran and Susie lined up for the first leg. The grin on Kieran’s face spoke volumes. “I’ll run it backwards!” he announced. He stood with his back to the course. Why simply win a race, when you can humiliate your opponent into the bargain?

  “Ready, Zack?”

  “Ready, Captain.”

  A sharp toot on Mark’s whistle started the first leg, and Susie was off like a little hare. Kieran really thought he would be able to outrun her while going backwards, but it was harder to pick up speed with Zack on his back. Meanwhile, Gordon was providing Susie with a decent tail wind.

  “TURN ROUND, YOU DIV!” Dean shrieked. Susie was already half the width of the hall ahead, to the excited cheers of her team.

  “SU-SIE, SU-SIE!”

  Kieran turned and tried to gallop. Gordon lightened his load a little, until he started to gain. All the same, he was ten shaming metres behind Susie when she flew over the line and handed her baton to the next runner. The rest of her team clapped her on the back and she beamed in triumph.

  Zack leapt off Kieran’s back as he was approaching the line. The sudden lightening of his load sped him into Dean, who was tongue-lashing him for being so slow. They collided, cursing each other, and dropped the baton. Precious seconds were lost. Gordon’s second runner was also producing a turn of speed he hadn’t previously thought possible.

  By now Gordon’s whole team had got the scent of unexpected victory. They were leaping up and down in excited anticipation. Dean finally got going, though his knees visibly buckled when Zack leapt on to his back. Gordon lightened his load a little, and Dean began slowly making up ground on the much smaller runner ahead of him.

  The race was now a lot fairer than it would have been. Gordon encouraged and praised each of his runners, making them that little bit lighter on their feet. Kieran taunted, berated and insulted each of his team members in turn. Each bigger, stronger boy carried an appropriate handicap, so things were evened up.

  When it came to the final stage, it was Gordon against John. John was a nice boy of about the same size and weight. The previous runners came in neck and neck. “Over to you, Gordon!” Zack yelled.

  This was the hardest part, controlling the force he had at his command so it didn’t give him an unfair advantage. Both boys pounded across the hall and turned together for the final leg. It could have gone either way, but at the very end, John found an extra little burst from somewhere and crossed the line a stride ahead of Gordon.

  “WE win! WE win!” Kieran yelled.

  “Everybody won,” Gordon panted. “Well run!” he said to John, who grinned at him.

  “You too; it was really close!”

  “Gordon’s right,” Mark said. “Everybody won. That’s the best and closest race we’ve ever had. Congratulations to everyone, especially you younger ones. I think you all did a personal best.”

  Chapter 17

  Why Do People Care So Much?

  The final game also involved two teams. Small netted goals were placed at either end of the hall. There was one ball, and running was only allowed off the ball. Two different captains picked the teams, so they were more or less evenly matched. Even so, the older boys tended to throw to each other. Winning the game mattered more to them than giving everyone a fair chance to take part.

  Kieran and Dean were on opposing teams. Both announced they were strikers. “I’M WAYNE ROONEY!” “I’M LUIS SUÁREZ!”

  None of the bigger boys would be in goal, so John and Gordon volunteered. “After all,” Gordon said to John, “nobody wins if we both keep a clean sheet.”

  The two teams went at it hammer and tongs. Mark, refereeing, was amazed how often the ball travelled through an impressive curve to end up in the hands of one of the smaller players. He was also impressed at how often they caught it cleanly, and how far they were able to throw it.

  He wasn’t the only one. The smaller children themselves were delighted at how well they were doing. They were visibly gaining in confidence.

  The only unhappy people on the pitch were Kieran and Dean. No matter how often they screamed “TO ME! TO ME!” the ball always seemed to curve away from them. They ran themselves ragged chasing it. They complained themselves ragged when they weren’t able to catch it.

  John and Gordon both pulled off some good saves, and it looked as though the game was heading for a goalless draw. In the final minutes, however, Gordon let the game follow its natural course. First, Dean took a pass in the area he had been haunting close to goal. He spun round and lashed it past John into the net. “GOOAALLL!!” he yelled! Pulling the bottom of his tee-shirt up over his face, he ran in an arc through the players, his arms held out like aeroplane wings. There was a serious risk that he was going to mow someone down.

  Gordon directed his run straight into Mark, who grabbed him and pulled the tee-shirt back down. “Watch where you’re going!” Mark told him.

  “CLAP CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP, SUÁREZ!” he crowed at Kieran.

  “LAST MINUTE!” Mark announced. Kieran’s team threw off. Warren > Peter > Jim > Kieran who hurled it towards the bottom left hand corner of the net.

  “SAVE IT!” Dean screamed. Gordon switched effortlessly into his speed-response mode. He did not want to make a mistake. The ball sl …ow …ed ... He stretched his hand out to it in plenty of time, careful to make sure it just touched him without being knocked off course as it streaked into the net. To everyone watching, it looked as though Gordon had made a terrific attempt at a save and just missed it.

  “GOOAALLL!” Kieran yelled, doing a curious version of the funky chicken. “ROOONEY! ROOONEY!” Mark blew time on a 1-1 draw.

  Parents were clustered at the end of the hall nearest the entrance. They were a visual reminder that the hour had just drawn to a close. Many of the younger ones ran over to their mum or dad, full of excitement. They told them how fast they had run, how they had won their leg of the relay, how often they had caught the ball. It was gratifying to see so many shining eyes and hear so many confident voices.

  Most of the parents smiled gratefully at Mark. It had obviously been a great session. “Dad,” Gordon said as they made their way to the car. “Why do people care about winning so much?”

  “That’s the world we live in,” his dad said. “It’s all about competition.”

  “Why can’t it be all about helping each other do the best we can? Then everyone can feel they’ve won because they achieved a personal best, or tried their hardest?”

  “That’s a fair point,” Victor admitted. “I’ve seen someone gutted because they came second in the World Championships.”

  “Exactly!” Gordon said. “For there to be one winner, everybody else has to be a loser.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s quite right,” Victor said. “I enjoy playing golf, but I know I’ll never be as good as the pros on the telly. That doesn’t make me feel like a loser. Very few people get to be that good at any sport. Victor had got to the car and was patting his pocket. Gordon absent-mindedly flicked the locks up. There was something important about this discussion, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

  “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so,” Zack told him.

  Gordon stopped dead. “Wow!” he beamed to Zack. “Is that true?” Zack nodded. Gordon climbed into his child seat and fastened the restraint. “You can add that to the list of things we need to talk about,” he telepathed to Zack.

  “No problem,” Zack replied. He sprawled next to Gordon on the rear seat. He didn’t ne
ed a seat-belt. In the unlikely event of a crash or an emergency stop, he would simply pass through the front of the car and then pass himself back again.

  NOTES

  “THERE IS NOTHING EITHER GOOD OR BAD BUT THINKING MAKES IT SO.”

  Chapter 18

  Gordon The Enforcer

  By the time he was eight, it was his mum who truly appreciated how grown up Gordon had become. Zack was a distant memory. Edith enjoyed having her son to herself. She was so proud of him. When Zack had been around, Gordon seemed to set impossible standards for other children. Now he had a lot of friends at school. Angela said Nick was so much happier with Gordon in his class.

  It was a Saturday morning, late in August. They had just set out for their nearest park, a ten-minute walk from their house. When junior school started up again in a few days’ time, Gordon would be in year 4. She smiled down at him as he strode along beside her.

  “Your mum looks happy” Zack thought to Gordon.

  “She is happy,” Gordon thought back. “I can feel it. Where are you now?”

  Zack gave a little chuckle. “I’m hiding behind that tree in front of you.”

  Gordon looked up in time to see Zack leap out and wave. He was dressed like a clown, with baggy pants, a white face and a big, red nose. Gordon burst out laughing, and then pretended to be coughing instead.

  “Are you all right, darling?”

  “Yes. I just got something caught in my throat.”

  Edith was utterly content. The sun was shining, and she had nothing to worry about. Gordon was walking coolly alongside her, keeping most of his thoughts to himself. It was so different from the way it used to be when he chattered incessantly, conducting conversations with her and Zack at the same time. He seemed to have reached a level of maturity beyond his years. But that was her Gordon for you, streets ahead.