The Tale of Pale Dale Hayle

By Drew Nelson Deck

Dale Hayle is an ordinary man living in Australia who is suffering from extraordinary dreams that awaken him every night. But on the day Dale should have been celebrating his fortieth birthday, his frightening dreams suddenly become real.

Merlingitis is a forty-year-old magician and a direct descendant of Merlin. Born on the Island of Magic, his spirit is sent to Earth to fight an increasing threatthe universe is slowly being swallowed by an evil force trapped inside the atmosphere. As the first magician to ever leave his island, Merlingitis cannot let the Council of Elders down. He must fight this evil force and he needs Dales body to be successful. Dale is soon unwillingly transformed into someone he doesnt know and as he listens to the pleas for help in his mind, he has no idea how to meet the challenges that face him.

The world is in great danger and the possible outcomes can mean death to all life on the planet. The weight of the world rests squarely in Dales hands and only he has the power to stop an evil force with just one goalto unleash its deadly power upon the universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 23, 2009
• ISBN: 9781440162626

Drew Nelson Deck

Drew Deck was born in the town of Oberon, in the state of New South Wales, Australia in 1953. Where is Oberon? Oberon the hills near Bathurst. Drew now lives at Mogo in New South Wales and works in the real estate industry. The Tale of Pale Dale Hayle is Drew's first novel although he has written hundreds of unpublished peoms and songs. He has recorded three C.D.s "Drew and the Deckhands", "Bedrock Roll" and "Tourist Attraction." This is an experiment to see if a book will sell well through the iUniverse system without publicity. He’s hoping this book will sell.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Merlingitis

Merlingitis was a magician.

Wizardry was his forte.

He was born on the ‘Island of Magic’.

Merlin had established the Island many centuries ago. He was the renowned 5th century bard and magician born in Caerfryddin in Wales and who had worked with King Arthur at Camelot. Legend had it that Vivienne - the Lady of the Lake, had entangled Merlin in a thorn bush by means of a spell and kept him asleep for centuries. They were wrong.

Merlin had a very secretive life. He was involved with an order called ‘The Servants of the Arts’ who lived in an obscure colony in Wales. They had been persecuted by a fanatical order of the ancient church that called themselves ‘The True Believers’.

Some members of this sect had been maliciously seeking out and executing members of the Servants of the Arts in the most horrific ways, ensuring that they suffered a great deal. Their methods of torture hadn’t changed much from the Dark Ages as the ‘True Believers’ liked to think of themselves as purists.

The Servants of the Arts however were a small band of 72 people that included Merlin, his wife Lloegr and his three young children, Mencius aged seven and Mimir aged five. Moira his only daughter was two.

Merlin greatly feared for their safety, five of their members had been tragically killed and the community was very scared. He was tired of the persecution they were suffering from the many ignorant people that feared wizards, witches, warlocks and faerie folk.

Merlin himself was an amazing magician, very special and one out of the ordinary. Some say that it was the wisdom of his great age and others attributed it to his chameleon like ability to simply vanish into his surroundings.

Through spells, potions and many hours of incantations he incredibly conjured up a lush, fertile island with boundless wildlife, the most amazing vegetation that you could possibly imagine and natural spring water that enhanced longevity.

The birth of his island created chaos with the tides when it appeared out of the water in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Merlin’s new paradise was far from ancient Britain’s bleak climate and the oppressive dark ages.

With his next incantations he mystically spirited the surviving members of the ‘Servants of the Arts’ to the safety of the Island.

Merlin then surrounded it with a ‘Spell of Secrecy’.

There was one major problem for him. He could not break through the spell to get himself to the Island.

He tried vainly for the rest of his life but he could not break that spell.

Sadly Merlin was bound to linger in the twilight between those he loved and those he served.

Merlingitis was Merlin’s great grandson.

He was forty, very young for a magician, but ready to begin his life. For magicians such as he could live for hundreds of years.

‘Forty lifetimes,’ thought Merlingitis.

He straightened his tall frame and stretched his long arms out from his sides. Merlingitis did not look like an ordinary wizard. Proud and muscular with his head completely bald, he looked more like a warrior than a wizard. He was a very handsome man and a favourite among all the Islanders.

Today was his fortieth birthday. Instead of celebrating opulently with his friends he had been approaching this day with trepidation. He would not be getting any gifts this year.

He had to leave the Island.

The blissful haven where he had spent all of his waking days and sleeping nights, it was home and he knew nothing else.

He had been educated in the highest traditions of the College at the ‘Island of Magic’.

Merlingitis had been chosen to be the first true magician to walk the earth for hundreds of years.

He was not only chosen because of his heritage, but also due to his abilities as a magician, wizard and warrior.

The world was in great danger. The possible outcomes would mean death to all life on the planet.

If it were to die, so would the Island.

The ‘Council of Elders’ had concluded that it was time to send someone into the world to help the planet recover so that life may continue. The Council was the governing body of the Island, made up of seven of the oldest and wisest Witches, Warlocks and Wizards.

Merlingitis was feeling overwhelmed with this insurmountable responsibility and the improbability of actually succeeding.

He cursed in the polite magicians way that gives no satisfaction.

His departure was looming and he would be leaving the Island.

This was no easy task.

Being shrouded in a protective enchantment, the Island was a very difficult place to leave. Physically it was impossible as the body couldn’t cross the portals of secrecy and remain intact. They lost two very capable magicians that perished trying to pass through the portals.

Nobody had ever left the Island.

Grand Magician Lycaon formulated a new Incantation that would send someone through the portals without harm. The drawback being that only their spirit and conscience would travel through. The body would not cross.

They would have store his body in suspended animation, waiting for him should he ever return.

Merlingitis was worried and stressing about what may happen to him. He was horrified by the fact that he may never return to the Island. He wasn’t ready to leave his home, his lover, his family and the memories of the life he loved.

He was standing by a window situated high in the Northern Tower.

In this tower were the Library and all the other Rooms Of Learning. Row upon row of overflowing bookshelves lined the walls with only an odd doorway leading into the monastic rooms that they used for reading.

An internal staircase wound its way up the tower leading to the loft that was 10 stories above ground. It was quite an impressive structure but only those that lived there could see it, such was the ‘Shroud of Secrecy’.

Merlingitis’ fierce blue eyes gazed down onto the river and watched its motion as it flowed lazily through the lush valley and out to the sea 10 kilometres away. He could see the waves glistening in the distance. It was a beautiful place, paradise on earth and he did not want to leave.

MERLINGITIS! He was jolted from his thoughts by the loud voice of the Chief of Magical Securities, Wellhand Smythe.

Merlingitis this area is off limits to you at this moment, come, you should be in pre-departure preparation. I will accompany you.

Sorry Wellhand, I was just taking one last look at the Island before I leave, you know I may never see my home again.

I know and my sympathies go with you but your departure is imminent and they sent me to look for you. I thought I would find you here. replied Wellhand, who was trying to sound confident despite his own misgivings.

Merlingitis took one last look down the valley and out to sea, then closing the window he turned and looked Wellhand in the eye but said nothing. He didn’t have to, they both knew they’d be losing a lifelong friend and would miss each other terribly.

They walked away from the window and down the large spiral stone staircase. Wellhand’s heavy boots set their tempo while Merlingitis’ soft soles made no sound as he kept stride with his friend. On each landing they passed the doors of knowledge that he would never step through again.

Soon they descended the tower stairs and were in the corridor that joined the tower to the main administration building.

As they neared the Departure Room, his fears and dreads welled up in his chest and his head was filled with goodbyes. Goodbye Mum, bye Dad, goodbye sisters, brothers, friends, his lover and his Island. He was overwhelmed with grief and tears filled his eyes.

The two men stopped before the door that led to his destiny and Wellhand took him by the arm.

We have arrived, I’m sorry but they are waiting for you my friend, let’s enter.

He opened the door and ushered Merlingitis into the room with a firm grip on his arm. He led him to a glass pyramid in the centre of the room. Inside the pyramid was a large cushioned slab with leather straps.

Wellhand led him into the pyramid and beckoned Merlingitis to disrobe and lie on the slab. Wellhand then secured the leather straps around his two ankles; waist and wrists taking great care not to bruise his friend.

Wellhand sighed as he muttered, I’m sorry the world has come to this, I will miss you Merlingitis. It’s time for me to say goodbye to you my good friend. Goodbye and good grace go with you. With that he turned and strode out of the room.

Goodbye Wellhand he called as he heard the door to the pyramid close behind him.

He stared around the room, but being strapped to the slab he could only see three of the four walls that surrounded him.

Standing around the room at equal intervals were eight senior witches and warlocks from the Island. There were four to represent each cardinal point and four to represent each of the Earth’s elements. They were all deep in meditation. His father and mother were among them and he could see them but they weren’t looking at him.

Mum, Dad He called out but they did not reply.

Their eyes were closed.

Each magician had their eyes shut and their arms stretched and pointing to the top of the pyramid. A beam of light leapt from each of their outstretched hands and touched the tip of the pyramid making it glow and pulsate. Soon the entire pyramid was alive with energy.

They began to chant in unison.

WALTER, WALTER PITCHER, WALTER, WALTER PITCHER, WALTER, WALTER PITCHER.

All Merlingitis could do was lay his head back on the slab ‘lets get it over with’ he thought.

The chanting was loud in his ears, the pulsating pyramid energised him and he felt that he was glowing.

He knew he was having an out of body experience, one that would last a very long time.

The pyramid became a whirl of light and movement; he felt his spirit and consciousness leave his body that was left in the pyramid, strapped to the slab.

CHAPTER TWO

Dale

Dale Hayle sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring from his bothered brow. He rubbed his hands over his cleanly shaven head, his fingers digging into his scalp as he did.

"ARRRRG NO I CAN’T STAND IT, LEAVE ME