ILLUSIONAL REALITY
By Karina Kantas
Copyright © 2016 Karina Kantas
First Edition
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.
Cover art: Sharon Lipman
Thank you so much for bringing my vision to life.
With thanks to
Amanda Hammond, Stephen Barr, Tania Tucker, Barbara Chioffi, Samantha Hathurusinghe, Naomi Nakashima and anyone else that has helped me through this journey.
Huge thanks to my amazing editor Michelle Dunbar
This is for you LAURA
Table of Contents
1 - False Identity
2 - Passage To Tsinia
3 - The Changlins
4 - The Festival
5 - Thya's Sessions
6 - Senx
7 - The Dark Force
8 - A New Warlord Reigns
9 - The Secret Watcher
10 - Final Conflict
11 - The Wedding
12 - Alkazar's Sacrifice
Message from Karina Kantas
Becky lived some distance away from Excel Marketing, the firm she had worked for since she was seventeen. Unfortunately, that Wednesday morning, her bashed up Mini Cooper wouldn't start. She arrived at work by taxi. Now the day had ended she was on her way back to the taxi rank.
She felt apprehensive about walking through the dimly lit streets. The neighbourhood just wasn't safe anymore. Luckily, there weren't many people waiting. Within ten minutes she was next in line for a cab. The manager bellowed a number and a sour-faced man stood up. He glared at Becky, slammed his half-drunk cup of coffee on the table and gestured for her to follow.
“Where to?”
After giving her address, she sat quietly in the back and listened to him cursing every motorist he passed. It was eight o'clock and would take about an hour to get home, maybe less, with the speed he was driving.
Becky lived on her own in a newly converted loft. She loved her independence, being her own boss meant she didn't need to think about anyone else. She cooked when she wanted, ate what she liked, and was determined to keep it that way, which is why she turned Frank down, a colleague at work. He was forever asking her out and refused to take no for an answer. There was nothing wrong with him. He was exactly her type. If she had been looking. It wasn't that guys didn't find her attractive or interesting; she'd had many offers. It was just that her previous involvement with men had made her cautious. They took her broken heart, mended it, made her feel on top of the world, and then tore her to shreds. Why was she always attracted to the wrong men? Why were the wrong men attracted to her? She was certain Mr. Right was out there somewhere. However, he was going to have to find her because she had stopped looking months ago.
***
Becky felt content that evening, having finished an important task well before the deadline, but the feeling she had left something behind festered. Reaching into her handbag, she rummaged through her belongings. Her credit card wallet was there, but her purse was in the bottom drawer of her desk.
This had never happened before, and the thought of telling the driver left her mouth dry. At first, the words wouldn't come, so she spoke louder, blurting it out.
“I'm sorry, but I think I've left my purse at work. I've money at home if you don't mind waiting.”
He slammed the brakes on, right in the middle of the road, and then turned and glared at Becky.
“I've had about all I can take from liars and cheats. You think you can pull the wool over my eyes? Go on, get out!”
“I have money at home,” she pleaded. “I'm not lying. I swear to you. Please, I don't know where I am. How am I supposed to get home?”
“That's not my bloody problem,” he spat. “You should have thought about that before you tried to get a free ride. Now get out of my cab before I come back there and drag you out.”
She couldn't believe he would leave her stranded in a part of town she didn't know.
“You can't do this,” she shouted. “I'm not getting out.”
The driver turned off the engine and unclipped his belt while swearing profusely. Becky fumbled with the door handle and jumped out of the cab, stepping onto the otherwise deserted street. Speechless and stunned, she blew air into her hands as the cab pull away. “Bollocks!”
She'd had an important meeting that morning and was dressed in high stiletto, Jimmy Choo shoes, and her best D&G suit. Knowing she was taking a taxi to and from work, she'd left her coat at home, yet that was the least of her worries. She was certainly too dressed up to be walking around these streets.
Becky assumed she was heading into the shopping area when the road changed from tarmac to cobblestone. She navigated the stones with care, not wanting to twist her ankle. Turning a corner, the shops came into view. The street was deserted, apart from the echo of nearing footsteps. She pictured two couples out for a romantic evening stroll but didn't have the courage to check.
Thankfully, she spotted a red telephone box. Becky quickened her pace. To her dismay, so did the sound of trailing footsteps. Fear took over, and she moved as fast as her designer skirt would allow, while cursing as she realized she’d left her mobile at the office as well.
She reached the shelter of the telephone box and grabbed the receiver. Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly keep a grip, never mind dial a number.
Further panic struck her. She had no purse, but if the footsteps belonged to the couples she envisioned in her mind, wouldn't they give her some change for the phone?
Turning around, she saw a group of youths loitering in a doorway opposite the phone box. They looked harmless enough, probably hanging out like they did every night. However, she didn't like the look of the smirk on one boy's face. She turned her back on them and rummaged through her bag, feeling for the loose change at the bottom.
Amongst the obscene graffiti and call girl invitations, she found a number for a local cab firm on the half-melted, plastic information board. Dialling the number, she spoke to a sympathetic woman who couldn't believe a driver would do something like that, she even advised Becky to sue them.
Her voice gave Becky a sense of security and she didn't want to put the phone down. She told her about the mob and the woman advised her to stay in a well-lit part of the street, assuring her a cab was on the way.
Five minutes later, Becky continued to hold the phone in her hand, nodding her head although the other woman had put her receiver down minutes before. She couldn't stay in the phone box much longer. One youth was standing right outside, giving her an impatient glare.
Slowly, she put the receiver down and made a point of scrambling through her bag. Becky slipped out of the phone box and walked down the street at a confident, steady pace. She wanted to appear as if she knew where she was going, but couldn't stray too far. The taxi could arrive at any moment and she couldn't afford to miss it. More importantly, she didn't want to wander off too far and get lost.
It was a nightmare. All she wanted to do was get home, put her feet up, and forget the night had ever happened.
Behind her, the youths talked and laughed amongst themselves.
Instead of walking away as she'd hoped, they had the nerve to stand directly behind her. The five boys acted as though they were interested in the dresses, causing more snorted laughter.
Becky didn't feel like laughing and she didn't feel frightened. What she felt was anger, so she turned around and confronted them. “What's your problem?” she said, surprised her voice didn't shake.
“We're just wondering wha' a broad like you is doing 'round 'ere. You lost or some'fing?”
Becky guessed the lad to be about fifteen. Claustrophobia overwhelmed her as they stepped forward, surrounding her. She couldn't see the street ahead and didn't know if the taxi was waiting.
“Not that it is any of your business, but I'm meeting my husband. Now, if you don't mind, get out of my way.”
Becky pushed past them. A hand gripped her shoulder, and she spun around. In one quick move, she kneed the boy in the groin and ran.
Unfortunately, in the opposite direction to where she'd arranged for the taxi to pick her up. Desperate to lose the boys, Becky dived into a nearby alley.
Faldor and Parcer witnessed the encounter between the woman they knew as Thya and the young humans with interest. Could it be that they would not have to carry out the task themselves? Could the humans want to destroy her also?
“Darthorn will be interested in this hostile land, Parcer.”
“With certainty, Faldor. Only I am ashamed to reveal I feel a little regretful about her.”
Faldor turned to face his friend. “How so?” he questioned, curious to learn why Pacer felt anything other than hatred for Thya.
“I pity anything hunted down, especially by a different species.”
“I will not reiterate your remark. Darthorn would not condone this opinion, yet I do comprehend your thought. Come, let us not remain, perhaps the humans do not succeed in their task. I desire to conclude with haste and return to Senx. I do not find this atmosphere agreeable. If we ever revisit, we will bear breathing resources, for I feel the air is choking me.”
They watched Becky dive into a narrow passage. Moments later, the foolish young humans ran past it.
Good, Faldor thought, eager for the kill. He enjoyed his work, which had unfortunately slackened off. Taking out his primitive weapon, he peered at it with uncertainty. Were these strange metal objects really able to destroy Thya's being?
The first time Faldor had pressed the mechanism, it had given off a loud noise and caused him to drop it to the ground, leaving his hand vibrating. After a couple of attempts, he understood how to hold the weapon and learnt how to target an object. He would do whatever his master commanded and bestow his existence to the cause. Only was it in error to feel pity for Thya?
***
Becky peered into the street. It looked deserted, but could she risk being out in the open? What sort of town was this that a woman couldn't walk the streets without being harassed? Her own town had problems, but she'd never felt this frightened to walk alone. She looked down the deserted alley. It was wide and lit by street lamps. Okay, so it was a little daunting, but what choice did she have? She had to find another pay phone, ring a cab and get as far away from this horrid place as she could. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards a fate she could never have predicted in a million years.
As she neared the bottom of the passage, a man stepped out in front of her and blocked her path. Becky jumped back with a cry.
The man held out his hands in a harmless gesture. “All is well,” he spoke in haste. “I am not here to harm you, Thya. I have been sent to aid you.”
“I'm a black belt in karate and these,” she said, waving her arms about, “are dangerous weapons.”
The man chuckled.
Becky spent a moment studying him. There was something friendly and warm about him, familiar even. Like herself, he was overdressed in his dark grey, three-piece suit. He was elderly—Becky guessed in his sixties—so why should she feel threatened by him? He looked harmless enough, it was only his words that didn't make sense. They unnerved her.
“Tis urgent we depart,” he told her, “we do not have duration—”
—A shot rang out, echoing through the passageway between the buildings.
The man's face turned grave. “If you do not depart with me, Thya, you will die!”
Becky's mouth opened wide. Hearing hurried footsteps, she stared at the man as he urged her to take his hand.
“Come with me,” he begged.
Becky had two choices. She could leave with the strange man or face her attackers. She favoured the first. Grasping hold of his big, warm hand, they ran down the remainder of the alley, turning right as they neared the end.
Further along, they turned left, finding garages on both sides of a lengthy road.
The man recognised their pursuers instantly, smelling the stench of their evil even before they came into view. What were Senx doing there? He had not been told of their arrival. It was unexpected, and he was unprepared. Thya would become an easy target if he failed to get her off the lamp lit avenue.
He spun around. There. A garage door left partly open. Crawling underneath, he pulled Becky in with him.
She was glad for the rest and took deep breaths to calm herself.
“Who are you?” she finally asked her Samaritan.
Becky felt sure he wasn't going to harm her and was in fact helping her out of a dangerous situation. One she couldn't fathom how she'd gotten into.
“I am named Salco. That is all you require at present.” He raised a finger to his lip. “Be silent.”
Both listened for the sound of running feet. Becky squeezed her eyes shut and prayed they wouldn't notice their makeshift sanctuary. To her relief, the footsteps became a distant echo. Silently they waited, and after a few moments more, Salco slid under the garage door to check if it was safe for them to leave. He glanced both ways and then signalled to her.
“I trust I have proven myself. I am not here to harm you. You are obligated to depart with me, tis not safe for you here.”
Although she still didn't understand, Becky accepted he was trying to help. She wouldn't have known what to do and so took his outstretched hand. They ran back the way they had come. Becky did her best to keep up, however, for an old man, he was extremely fit. She soon lost her footing and fell to the ground, grazing her knee.
“Are you well?” he asked in alarm. “I was too hasty. This will not do. Are you well?”
The concern was flattering, yet a little over done. “I'm fine. Stop stressing and get us out of here, okay?”
As she stood and brushed the dust off her clothes, Salco remained on the spot, staring fixedly at her.
They would never let him forget this. He could not complete a mission as simple as bringing Thya back to Tsinia unharmed. He was honoured that Omad had chosen him. Never in his wildest imagination would he have thought it to be such a trying task, and now he had failed. His disregard had caused her injury. They would never assign a mission to him again. If he was able to transmit her back to Tsinia without further harm, it could be possible they would pardon his error. He would atone, whatever it took.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I do not mean to. I just… I cannot believe I stand in your presence.”
Before she had time to ask him more, shots ricocheted off the walls around them.
Salco grasped her hand. “With haste,” he yelled.
They raced down the alley.
Salco's heart jumped when he saw the open door. He practically dragged Becky into the abandoned warehouse, only releasing his grip on her to shut the door. He used the three crates sitting beside the wall to bolster it; they were heavy, yet he managed. He had to assume the Senxs had witnessed their entry; if so, it wouldn't be long until they arrived. His attention turned to Becky. She sat propped against a wall. Horror spread across his face as he ran to her.
“You are damaged?
Tis not forewarned. He paced before her, wringing his hands. What have I done?”
Becky didn't understand what he meant until she felt a stabbing pain in her side. She looked down to see her blouse soaked with blood. Pressing her hand to the wetness, she gasped as it came away red. She didn't recall getting hit but the sight of blood made her swoon. Salco knelt beside her, entranced by the spreading stain. Taking her hand into his, he said, “I will take you to the healer. Valcan is the only one who can aid you now.”
“Valcan?” she whispered. Strength sapped from her body and her head slumped forward.
“Tis not foretold!” he cried.
He looked down at her unconscious form. “Remain with me, Princess. I will return you to your homeland and pray to the Changlins that I am not overdue.”
Laying her on the concrete floor, he dismissed the sound of the door being forced open from his thoughts. He closed his eyes and relaxed his mind. When he opened them again, he held out his left arm, palm directed towards the opposite side of the building. Closing his hand into a fist, he swept it to the right in a semicircular motion and then stretched his fingers to the limit. He swept his hand to the left, half the distance of before. His face strained with concentration.
A misty light appeared, transforming into a bright orb. Running to where Thya laid, he picked her up and studied her face. Tears dampened his cheeks.
“What have I done?” he whispered. Closing his eyes, he stepped into the light.
***
Preparations were under way for Thya's arrival. They had been expecting her since the writing of the first Oracle long ago. Omad, the head of the council, made sure everyone knew of her coming, for it was his task to prepare his people for the arrival of their princess. He'd left strict instructions that no one witness the arrival, or approach until he had conversed with her himself. It was his duty to inform Thya who she was, and of her destiny.
He felt anxious and nervous, yet not for himself. Tsinia was his home; but to an outsider, a human, it might seem like a mystical, dreamlike place. How was he to make her understand? Would she listen, and most importantly would she believe him? Too much was at stake. He could not fail. The fate of Tsinia lay in his hands.
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