Black Mac E-Book

Claus Bork

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Seitenzahl: 189

Beschreibung

Library review, Copenhagen. Bork, Claus: "Black Mac". Ten year old Jasper dreams himself across to another world. Here he meets the Princess Isabel and the raven Black Mac, who become his best friends. He gets caught up in violent events among witches, trolls, dragons and all the known fairytale characters. Electro, the King of the Computer kingdom, wishes to wipe out the fantasy world, but is prevented by doing so by Jasper and Black Mac, with the help of a magnet. Jasper’s dream becomes real. As he returns from his nightly dream-experiences, Jasper is dressed in knight’s clothing, given to him by Isabel, and is accompanied by Black Mac. Everything ends happily of course, after many dramatic incidents. The imaginative plot contains an almost unbroken number of exciting situations packed with action, but also fine atmospheric images and emotional passages. The main character, Jasper, from ‘The real world’ is, at the same time, both real and part of the fairytale. As the hero, he manages to save the imagination from the cold, emotionless computer world. Apart from the description of the fight itself against Electro, which is, both in its language and in content, hard to follow, it is a story, which will appeal to a great number of readers in the 11-14 category. Ebbe Dissing (s)

Leseprobe

Earlier published from this Author:

Childrens Books:

Slangeøjet – 1985 (DK)

Mesteren fra Glaur – 1985 (DK)

Kong Atlon af Regnbuen – 1985 (DK)

(New projects from BoD)

**) Published

*) Publishing planned to

Youth Books:

Sorte Sigurd (DK) – 2016*

Schwarzer Sigurd (DE) – 2015**

Black Mac (GB) – 2015**

Landet bag Tågerne (DK) – 2016*

Land hinter den Nebeln (DE) – 2015**

Dragens Rige (DK) – 2015*

Drachenreich (DE) – 2015**

Bølgernes Børn (DK) – 2016*

Die Kinder der Wellen (DE) – 2015*

Djin (DK) – 2016*

Djin (DE) – 2015*

Portene til Rana (DK) – 2016*

Die Tore nach Rana (DE) – 2015*

Muffy’s Lov (DK) – 2016* (e-buch)

Adult Books:

Das abenteuerliche Karaganda – 2015 (DE)**

Det eventyrlige Karaganda – 2015 (DK)**

DEER – 2015 (DE)**

WTC-gate – 2015 (DK)**

WTC-gate – 2015 (UK/USA/CAN/AUS)*

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE BEGINNING

THE DREAM

HOME AGAIN

SIR GAWAIN

BLACK MAC

DOS

MERLIN

AT THE BEARS

THE DOG WITH EYES AS BIG AS SAUCERS

COURTING AT THE CASTLE

THE SUITOR

ELECTRO

THE PURSUER

ESCAPING

WHAT’S REAL?

CORNERED

FIGHTING AGAINST DOS

LAST CHANCE…

THE WEDDING

A QUITE UNUSUAL BOY

POSTSCRIPT

THE BEGINNING

He was actually just a perfectly ordinary boy.

His name was Jasper. He had wispy blonde hair and big brown eyes, because somewhere in his mother’s family there had been gypsy blood, and maybe that was why he was so adventurous.

He went his own way and loved the excitement of experiencing things, which were out of the ordinary. He was ten years old and a bit of a scamp.

It all started one cold November night.

Snow was falling like dandelion seeds from a heavy black sky.

It was ten to nine on Friday evening.

“You can go to bed now...” His mum was staring at him with the usual - ‘and there’s no discussion’ - look....

“I just have to...” he started. That’s the way it was every evening.

“Now, young man - and that’s this minute!”

“Okay...” He put the book down and got up from the sofa. Then he plodded to the stairs and dragged himself up to the first floor.

Ten minutes later, at nine o’clock precisely, he was tucked up snugly under the quilt, with the lights out. He watched the snowflakes falling in the light from the street lamps.

“Good night and sleep well,” his mum whispered and closed the door to his room.

The alarm clock ticked, harsh and metallic, in the corner by the desk. TIK - TOK TIK - TOK, just a perfectly ordinary alarm clock that you wind up.

He closed his eyes, and went to sleep, and that was the last time he felt like a perfectly ordinary boy.

THE DREAM

As soon as he closed his eyes, he left behind the world he knew so well, and was whisked away. He felt something dragging him off, but he had no idea where to.

Far away, in the distance, a light was growing brighter. He flew towards the light at enormous speed, tumbled into it, and suddenly he was there, in another world, whose name he didn’t know.

The sun was shining in a clear sky. As he looked down at himself, he noticed that he was still wearing his pyjamas.

He was on a gravel road with a ditch on either side.

At the edges of the ditch grew the most beautiful dandelions Jasper had ever seen. Beyond the ditch on one side was a field, and on the other, a big, gloomy forest.

High above the field, birds were singing. The forest, on the other hand, was completely quiet.

He stood there for a moment, speculating on how he could get his hands on some other clothes. If anyone saw him wearing pyjamas in broad daylight, they would think he was a fool.

“Make way for His Royal Majesty’s coach...” a voice shouted behind him.

He turned around just in time to see the panting horses. He threw himself off the road, into the ditch, just before they came thundering past him, throwing up a cloud of dust in their wake, which was swept away across the fields.

“Whoa,” the coachman shouted. The horses whinnied, the reins rustled and the heavy wheels rumbled and came to a halt. Terrified, Jasper lay at the bottom of the ditch and stared back up towards the road.

He couldn’t really see anything because the grass was too high.

He crawled back up the slope a bit, and pushed the grass aside. There, in the middle of the gravel road, was a golden coach, with spoked wheels and eight snorting white horses in front.

The horses were shaking their heads, so that their bridles made a lot of noise.

The coachman, a fat little man with big red cheeks, kept a tight rein on the horses to make them stand still.

The coach was made of wood, and so artfully carved that it would be impossible to find it’s like anywhere in the whole wide world.

Ten carved golden dragons with forked tongues supported the roof of the coach.

There was real glass in the coach windows, but it was so highly polished that you could only see it when the sunlight struck it.

A face appeared at the window. It was a young woman. She was very beautiful, with deep blue eyes, and long, charcoal black hair. She looked at Jasper with surprise. Then she smiled and pushed the coach door open.

“Come over here, boy - let me see you.”

Jasper thought she was so pretty that he felt dizzy. He stood up slowly and clambered up to the top of the ditch, then crossed the road and stood in front of the door. Suddenly, she laughed, and raised her hand to cover her mouth.

“Why are you wearing those clothes?” He saw the smile in her eyes, before he could even think about being annoyed about his pyjamas.

“They’re my pyjamas,” he said, and gave her a smile.

She looked down at him, cocking her head. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, pursing her lips.

“I go where ever I want,” Jasper answered.

“You are a little rascal, aren’t you?” she laughed.

He put his hands by his sides, and answered: “If I’m a rascal, what are you then?”

Two footmen, in red uniforms, jumped down from the back of the coach.

“No, let him be,” she shouted, and raised her hand. She looked at him again.

“Do you always laugh when you speak?” Jasper asked.

“Not always,” she answered. A shadow crossed her face. She stared away across the fields and grew silent.

“Ah well, I’ve got to get on,” Jasper started.

One of the uniformed footmen placed himself in front of Jasper. “When you address the Princess Isabel of Fairyland, you say: ‘Your Majesty’.” He stood, broad shouldered and erect, and stared down at Jasper, with a firm, but friendly, look in his blue eyes. He smelled of shoe polish from his high-topped boots. Two rows of shiny buttons sparkled on the front of his jacket.

“Let him be, Victor,” came her voice from inside the coach.

Victor stepped to one side, and she reached down towards Jasper, waving him closer. He took her royal hand and jumped into the coach.

“Go on!” Princess Isabel shouted, and the coach started to roll. The fields outside flew past the windows in a blur.

“Such speed,” Jasper exclaimed. “It’s also very beautiful here.”

“This is nice, but my own country is even more beautiful.”

“Are you on your way home now, or somewhere else?”

“This is ‘No-man’s Land’,” she said, pointing out of the window. “This is where people come when they feel like it. People only go to Fairyland if they live there.”

“Fairyland,” Jasper mumbled to himself. “It sounds nice.”

She gave him a friendly nod and handed him a box: “Do you like chocolate?”

Oh yes, he certainly did....

He didn’t think there was any point in being modest. She seemed so nice for a grown-up and everything, so he stuffed his mouth with chocolate and put a couple more in his pocket.

“Are you always like that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled as he chewed.

She looked out of the window for a while, then turned and looked at him again. Then she asked him directly: “Where do you come from?”

“Umm....” he scratched his cheek, thinking about it. “Well...actually, right now, I’m dreaming. But I’m from England, like everybody else.”

“England?” She looked at him, puzzled. “Do you mean that you’ve come from ‘The Real World’?”

“The Real World?” he laughed. “There is just one world.”

“You’re mistaken there,” she smiled, leaning towards him. “I will show you my world - Fairyland. I might even need some help from a nice, young footman such as yourself, maybe... who knows?”

“But you are the princess,” he said, swallowing the last bit of chocolate. “You can’t possibly have any problems.”

“I wish it was so easy,” she sighed.

“Smile now,” Jasper said, and sucked his thumb clean of chocolate. “You’ll grow ugly by worrying... that’s what my mum says, every time my dad has to pay the bills.”

“All right then,” she said and smiled again.

The coach rolled off the gravel road, and the rumbling noise was replaced by the steady hum of the wheels.

“We are almost there,” she said, leaning against the window.

He followed her gaze.

Outside, everything had changed. They were speeding across a smooth, shiny-mirrored surface.

Jasper looked down through the mirror. He was certain that he could see two white swans, like a frozen picture.

“Now, these are the gates,” she said. “In a moment, we will be in my country.” Jasper slid across the upholstery and pressed his nose flat against the window.

A huge wall appeared in front of the coach. The closer they came, the higher it towered towards the sky. In the middle of the wall was a very high and wide double-doored gate. It was made of metal, with big, bright bolts running along its edges. When the coach was close enough, the gates swung open.

Behind the gates, two rows of soldiers, dressed in red and carrying trumpets, sounded a fanfare as they rode through.

The coach sped into Fairyland. The trumpets sounded and the gates closed behind them.

It raced, lock, stock and barrel, through picturesque forests and valleys, towards a white castle on top of the mountain.

Through the clear glass window, Jasper watched a strange world rolling past. He thought he recognised people in the villages, people from the imagination, and people he had heard about from the fairy tales, which were read to him when he was little.

There was a man, out on the plain, walking seven miles for every step he took. In three steps, he had caught up with them. Then he passed by and disappeared in front of them, in spite of the eight thundering horses, which were galloping full tilt, so that the coach bounced along the road.

Knights in shining armour, with colourful pennants waving from their spears, were crossing the plain. They were on their way to hunt for the dragon, which exists in almost all the fairytales ever written.

Jasper tried to absorb everything, but too much was happening to take in. He hadn’t noticed that she had been watching him the whole time.

“What’s that?” he whispered, and pointed. They were tearing through a deep and dark forest.

“That’s a house built of the most delicious things,” she laughed. “You must have heard about the Gingerbread House?”

Jasper nodded.

“Do you want a taste?” she asked.

“No, thank you.” Jasper shook his head. He remembered the witch who roasted children in the oven, and suddenly, he didn’t feel like gingerbread.

“The further in we go,” she said, “the stranger this world will appear to you, because it becomes less and less like the world where you come from.”

He nodded without looking away from the window. “Yeah, I bet.”

They drove across a bridge made of sugar. A big pig walked along the edge of a river that was full of soda water. The pig was made of marzipan, and had a knife and fork stuck deep in its back.

“Do you like marzipan...?” she asked warmly.

“Yeah,” Jasper sighed. “But not right now. I have to get used to all of this first.”

“You should have some other clothes,” she said, sadly. He nodded again. It was true; he wasn’t too pleased about his pyjamas either.

The coach rolled across the bridge towards the white castle. As they went through the gates, the hooves thundered against the cobblestones.

The coach came to a halt in the castle courtyard. All around, white towers and spires soared into the sky.

Great, Jasper thought. He had never seen anything like it. This was definitely better than Windsor Castle back home.

“You must be so happy,” she said, descending from the coach. She turned round and gave him a long, friendly look - “To live in the real world, without sorrows and worries.”

“I’ve got enough problems,” Jasper said. “Just ask my parents.”

Helped by the footman in the red uniform, the Princess stepped down.

“Thank you, Victor,” she mumbled.

“Your Majesty, You are too kind,” he mumbled back, letting go of her hand.

She turned again: “What are they like - your parents?”

“My mum is okay,” he said. “My dad is a computer freak, so he’s a little bit strange.”

“Computer?” she said, staring at him for a long moment. Then she offered him her hand: “Come, you must see how I live.”

She led him up some very, very wide stairs. They were made of the whitest marble, and he saw that her shoes were made of glass.

That whole day, she showed him the land of fairytales.

It brought back his childhood memories, funny, scary and amazing ones.

All the same, she still seemed worried.

“Soon, you have to leave for your own country,” she said quietly. “You must make sure not to be here when your time is up. It is very important that you are back in No-man’s Land. If you forget, you could be hurt.”

She stood in front of him, beautiful and unreal.

The big, airy hall had a chequered floor. Chess pieces, bigger than Jasper, stood waiting, lit by the chandeliers.

There were chubby rooks, pawns with scythes on their shoulders and knights on horses.

“Do you feel like playing?” she asked.

“Not right now,” Jasper answered, scratching his nose. “What is it you are so sad about?”

Before she could answer him, the most beautiful little melody drifted in through the open French doors. It floated through the air, gentle and sweet, and made her eyes smile again.

The chess pieces were listening too. She gave Jasper a little smile and went out onto the balcony.

He tiptoed after her. He crouched by the railings and looked down.

In the darkness, among a sea of flowers, there stood a young man. He looked up to the balcony, playing his lute. His fingers brushed lightly over the strings, and filled the air with notes as fine as gossamer.

Behind him, a stately brown horse stood staring blankly into the darkness.

The young man sang so beautifully, that, even though the words were unintelligible, Jasper knew that he loved the Princess.

Princess Isabel looked down towards him, eyes glowing. It was obvious to everyone that she loved him too.

She plucked a rose from the hanging basket on the railing, and threw it down to him.

The melody fell silent for a moment, as he stopped to pick it up. Then he stuck it in a buttonhole on his chest and played on.

He played better than before. He smiled up from below, and stared deeply into her eyes.

Jasper felt himself to be completely superfluous.

The horse must have felt like Jasper, because it turned its head and neighed softly.

Then all hell broke loose.

The gates to the garden were pushed open violently, and soldiers in colourful uniforms stormed in, in ruler-straight ranks.

In front was the Lieutenant in gold braid and ribbons, with his sabre drawn.

This was the Fairy Guard, the army which protected Fairyland, the King, the Queen and Princess Isabel.

“Arrest him!” the command sounded.

The soldiers ran forward in step with each other, bayonets on their guns.

The young man who had played for the Princess laughed, blew her a kiss, then slung the lute over his shoulder and jumped on his horse. It whinnied and reared, and Jasper held his breath.

The soldiers closed in.

The young man grabbed the lute again, struck the strings, and spurred his horse on. He galloped directly towards the high wall, which encircled the garden.

The horse shuffled its feet, then took off and leaped.

Princess Isabel watched, stifling a little gasp of fear.

The young man sailed over the wall, carried by the horse and the sound of the love-melody. As soon as he passed the wall and was out of sight, the gentle melody flowed out across Fairyland.

It filled the hopes of the people, who longed for the lovers to be united. For they loved each other so deeply, Princess Isabel of Fairyland and Prince Major of Symphonyland.

The soldiers stopped and relaxed.

The Lieutenant marched across and stood below the balcony. He turned, and looked respectfully up at Princess Isabel.

“With Your Majesty’s permission, I will withdraw.”

She nodded...

“Permit me to say, that I am obliged to report the incident to your father, the King. I will report that we drove out a stranger, who had no legal business in the castle garden.”

“Who will you report that you saw?” she asked nervously.

He stood for a while, thinking.

Far away, the music of the lute could be heard from beyond the wall.

“Permit me,” the Lieutenant said formally. “I cannot name anyone in particular, as I did not see the person concerned’s face in the darkness.”

With relief, Princess Isabel smiled and thanked him.

The Lieutenant bowed and thrust his sabre into its sheath.

Just as he turned to march the soldiers out through the gate, he gave her a look, the same look as the musician had given her. He, too, loved the Princess, but he respected the choice she had made in giving her heart to another, because he was a real Lieutenant.

“Soon, in your land, night will be over,” Princess Isabel said. She walked in front of him through the halls with the polished, chequered floors.

Jasper followed her, half running, because she took such big steps he could barely keep up.

Every time he saw his reflection, the mirrors on the walls reminded him of how elegant he looked, a real dandy in a shirt with ruffles at the neck and a cavalier jacket with tails and straps.

The brown trousers were tucked inside his high boots, and he also had a sabre, even though it was a bit smaller than the soldiers.

The Princess stopped at the top of the marble staircase, and looked around the courtyard.

“You must hurry away from here,” she said. She glanced rapidly at the clock tower.

“On the twelfth stroke, you MUST be in No-man’s Land. Promise me you’ll never forget.”

He stared at the clock. “Why?”

She gazed down at him. “Because if you aren’t, you will never be able to return to your own world. That’s just the way it is.” She sighed. “It is no use asking me why, because I don’t know.”

Jasper took off the feathered hat, and pressed it to his chest, as he had seen people here do. Then he bowed, and placed his left hand on the shaft of his sabre.

“As Your Majesty commands,” he said with an important air.

“You are very quick,” she laughed. “You little rascal.”

She turned towards the courtyard and whistled into the darkness. Then she waited.

A gate in the furthest corner rumbled open. Light from the stables flooded out onto the cobblestones, and the coach with the eight horses sailed towards the staircase. It stopped in front of the steps and the door banged open.

“Are you going to come again someday?” she asked.

Jasper looked up at her. “As soon as I can,” he promised.

“I hope so,” Princess Isabel smiled, nudging him down the stairs towards the open coach door.

Just as he was inside and the door slammed shut, the clock tower struck one. The horses neighed and the wheels began to turn.

“Why is there no coachman?” Jasper shouted.

“It’s not necessary,” she shouted back. He couldn’t hear any more, because her voice was drowned out by the noise of the wheels thundering across the cobblestones.

Wilder and wilder, the horses built up speed. They raced out through the castle gates and across the sugar bridge. Behind them, the clock tower boomed out across the country - TWO... THREE... FOUR...

He felt the horses really pulling in front. They wanted to get him there in time.

The gingerbread house shot past in the darkness. The witch was standing in the window, watching the little girl collecting wood for the stove. Jasper saw them in a flash. Then they were gone and he continued on.

A dragon breathed fire on the plain, as the clock struck five.

When the clock tower struck eight, the horses slowed down and stopped.

The coach had come to a halt in front of the gates that led out of Fairyland.

The soldiers in the red uniforms and the footmen weren’t there anymore. The gates were open just enough for the horses to get through, but on the road stood a tall man, blocking the way.

He was wrapped up in a black cape with a hood over his head. His face was hidden in the shadows of the hood, and only his nose and the top of his chin shimmered white in the moonlight.

Jasper stole a glance out of the window. The horses waited nervously, stamping their hooves against the stony road. They were drenched in sweat and shook their heads impatiently.

The tall figure walked quickly around the coach and opened the door. His eyes stared at Jasper like two blue marbles from under the darkness of the hood.

He looked as if he was going to ascend the coach, but the horses lurched forward. The tall man lost his grip as the door slammed shut on his fingers, and disappeared out of sight as the coach rolled on, through the gates and across the mirrored surface.

“I wonder who that was,” Jasper thought, finding a piece of chocolate covered in lint.

The clock tower struck twelve in Fairyland.

The horses had finished their wild race against time and the coach stood still.