Jarvit

Jarvit Ch9 p3

‘Ah Stew, there you are. I have promised Sir Holen that you will show him the illuminated manuscript that you found so interesting in the chained library.’ Professor Klimpt smiled kindly at Jarvit. Resentment boiled up inside Jarvit as he saw a look of humouring pity on the Professor’s face but he said nothing.

         In the library the Professor gave their names and escorted them to the desk where Jarvit had sat the first time he had entered the library. The manuscript was place before him and he carefully opened it to the last illustration. There was the forest just as he remembered it. Holen drew a quick deep breath and peered closer.

         ‘It is very like, very like,’ he murmured. ‘What say you boy, tell me what happened when you touched the page.’

         ‘I was in the forest and-‘

         ‘How was it?’

         ‘Dying, fading, she was fading. I didn’t do anything I swear!’ Jarvit said suddenly afraid. Holen just nodded as he leant over the image.

         ‘It is not your doing boy I know that,’ he said. Professor Klimpt watched the two with interest. ‘There is lettering here, has any translated the script?’ Holen turned to the Professor.

         ‘None that I know, until Stew’s experience this book has been regarded as merely a charming curiosity shown only to children. I have looked at the lettering since and have searched all my reference books. Yet I am unable to find a language like it. Nor have our cryptographers been able to translate it,’ the Professor replied.

         Tell them it says this.

Jarvit stood bolt upright in shock.

         Poisonous yet I shall be protected.

         Sheltered on Hallowed ground I shall wage war.

         Worshipped now, I will in turn worship.

         Of ancient magic I will defer to a greater majesty.

         Now strong in power I shall bend to the will.

         All I have shall aid the preserver of the Worthy.

         Even mine own son.

Jarvit said nothing. He had wanted the Worthy to speak to him to prove he was not mad but now that he was hearing the voice he was afraid to speak.

        

         Trace your finger over the words on the page and repeat the words.

Jarvit stretched out a finger to the page and slowly touched the parchment.

         ‘Is is I Jarrvit, I am still here and my son is truly with thee now I know it. Speak my words after me now,’ the lady’s voice was barely more than a thin whisper. She spoke in gentle and loving tones. Jarvit repeated the words as she said them. He stood ankle deep in the crisp dried leaves of an autumn wood land, it felt as though the cold of winter had touched the bare trees for the first time.

         ‘Good, well done. Your way will not be easy but, though I fade, I will still aid thee all I can, according to my promise here repeated. You know who you are now, Jarrvit, it only remains for you to seek where you fit in the puzzle. Beware an old acquaintance.’