by Rob Scott
He sipped his drink and gazed down at his friends sleeping soundly on the hard wooden floor of the fisherman’s shanty. They would remain here all day, maybe longer, if Garec needed it. He’d not yet recovered from his ordeal.
By now, their attack must have been reported, maybe by the one soldier Garec didn’t kill. With so many footprints scattered about the Malakasian picket line, he hoped they would assume it was a partisan strike, that they had killed the sentries, then fled south. Allowing that young man to live caused a problem: he knew they were looking for Malagon, or at least for the Prince Marek. Garec had released his grip at the last minute, and that made their current predicament far more dangerous.
Although he was angry with himself for thinking maybe Garec should have dispatched that soldier too, Mark couldn’t banish the thought. He kept a wary eye out for the patrols that must be coming for them.
They had done what they could to disguise their trail, moving all the way to the warehouse, then doubling back through the forest. The Twinmoon tide had roared all the way in and wiped clean most of the footprints along the beach. Mark hoped a few out-of-season fishermen might show up and begin working in the nearby smokehouses as soon as the sun rose. Hide in plain view: Gita’s words echoed back at him. This was about as plain view as Mark could stand.
With any luck, the Malakasian force would come through the shanty village, detect nothing out of the ordinary and continue along the waterfront towards the north wharf and the Prince Marek. He finished his first cup and poured a second. That might be hoping for too much, he thought. He stared down at the bowman asleep at his feet. Garec needed time to recover from the horrors of the previous night, but if they were overrun by a Malakasian patrol, he might be called upon once again to use his gruesome skill and help them escape.
As if thinking about them had made his fears concrete, Mark heard the telltale sound of horses’ hooves, pounding along the sand. Five riders approached at a gallop and Mark quickly doused the small fire with the remains of his tecan, scolding himself as he did so. ‘Stupid bastard,’ he muttered, ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing making a fire?’ Mark tossed his blanket over the coals as a great cloud of smoke and steam rose from the soggy embers: not a perfect solution, but the cloud dissipated somewhat. He heard terse commands as the riders reined in out near the water’s edge, but huddled beneath the front wall of the shanty, he couldn’t make out what was being said. He longed to peer through the window to see if anyone was coming through the trees.
He looked around at a slight sound. Garec was awake and on his feet, an arrow nocked and ready to fire. Mark shook his head and held his breath. Please, God, don’t let it happen again, he prayed, over and over, please God, let them ride on.
A great weight fell over the shanty, as if a waterlogged cloud had blown in off the ocean and settled above their hiding place. Despite the morning chill, Mark felt sweat bead on his forehead. The stitches in his abdomen began to sting; it was hard to breathe. Beside him Garec was a rock, stern-faced and impassive: he would do whatever was necessary to protect himself and his friends.
Mark suddenly realised that it wasn’t just the deaths of the soldiers that were weighing so heavily on Garec’s heart; it was Gilmour – he blamed himself for Gilmour’s death. He needed to make peace with himself and forgive himself for allowing Gilmour’s killer to escape.
Now Garec stood stock-still by the crooked door of the shanty, poised and ready for the mounted patrol to find them. It would be a costly discovery.
But they never did. After a few minutes’ tense wait, they heard the clopping of the horses fading as they trotted off along the wharf.
Garec lowered his bow and folded like a discarded rag. Mark finally exhaled and returned to his watch at the shanty window as Garec wrapped himself back in his blanket and curled up on the floor.
For the moment at least, they were safe again.
Hannah was up early, before dawn, brewing tecan and warming two loaves of day-old bread in one of Alen’s fireplaces. She was kneeling on the hearth and didn’t hear him enter the room. When Alen spoke, she jumped, inadvertently spilling several burning logs onto the floor.
‘Jesus, you scared me,’ she exclaimed in surprised English, then smiled disarmingly and switched back to Pragan. ‘Good morning to you too; sorry, you startled me.’ Hannah used the poker to shovel the smouldering logs back onto the flames.
‘Sorry I frightened you.’ Alen moved to the big old chair beside her. ‘The nights are cold this late in the season. Thank you for building up the fire.’
‘I was up early.’ She moved a large stew cauldron from the hinged iron rod suspended above the coals then poured two mugs of tecan. Handing one over, she said. ‘Here you go. I’m afraid it isn’t too strong yet. I never know how long to leave it on.’
Alen watched her with a sense of detachment. ‘You know, you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.’
‘I do?’
‘The resemblance is uncanny.’
‘Really? Who was she?’ Hannah burned her tongue and blew gently on it to calm the sensation. ‘I assume it was a she, or else our friendship is going to have a difficult morning.’ She laughed.
‘Her name was Pikan Tettarak,’ Alen said, warming his hands on the full mug. ‘She was a member of the Larion Senate.’
Hannah looked nervously about the room and fought off a sudden chill. Alen had spoken several times about the fabled band of sorcerers, but Hannah had summarily dismissed the notion as the ravings of a suicidal alcoholic. Yet, here he was, sober and clear-eyed, his first drink of the day still ten hours off. Hoyt and Churn were asleep in a chamber at the back of the house. If she cried out, they would be in the room in seconds – or whatever passed for seconds in this strange place.
Maybe now was the time to straighten out a few things. She looked Alen squarely in the face and said, ‘You must understand how difficult it is for me to believe you when you talk about this sort of thing. It’s completely outside the sphere of my experience: how on earth do you expect me to just accept that some people can do magic, or live for as long as you claim you have?’
‘For an intelligent woman you’re very shortsighted, Hannah. Until this past Twinmoon it was probably “outside the sphere of your experience” to fall through a Larion portal into another world.’
Hannah smiled in reluctant agreement.
‘So you ought to try to be a bit more openminded.’
‘Fair enough,’ she agreed. ‘So who was Pikan Tettarak?’
Alen’s gaze grew distant and he stared into the crackling flames. When he spoke, it was as much to the fire as to Hannah. ‘She was my wife.’
‘Hoyt never said you were married.’
‘He doesn’t know – no one knew. We were married in your England, in a small chapel near Durham Castle. It works slightly differently in Eldarn, but we loved the idea of making a lifelong commitment to one another, and your marriage vows captured the essence of our passion better than anything here. It was spring, and Pikan carried wildflowers, a handful of colour, like a rainbow. She loved the wildflowers there – we lived in Gorsk, and except for a few resilient shrubs, it had been a long time since either of us had seen anything like the flowers that grow all over England.’
Still fighting to maintain an open mind, Hannah asked, ‘What were you doing there?’
‘We were working. Actually, I should say I was working. I was conducting research into health, some projects I was planning to start up in different Eldarni cities. I was especially interested in how the English handled their sewage, rubbish and fresh water.’
‘And Pikan?’
‘She was a magician, very skilled, one of the strongest.’
‘Was she there to research magic? Magic in England?’ Hannah was horribly afraid he might say yes and cast another depth charge into everything she held as truth.
‘No. Her own magic was far greater than anything she might have found in England at the time. Pikan was alo
ng with me for other reasons.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘I was a director of the Larion Senate. Pikan joined us much later, after the Senate’s reputation as a congress of scholars had spread to the furthest corners of Eldarn. Nerak, Fantus and I had already been Larion Senators for a very long time when Pikan joined us.’ He noticed her confusion, and clarified, ‘Nerak and Fantus were the other division leaders, Nerak for magic and medicine and Fantus for research and scholarship. They were friends of mine as well as colleagues. Pikan was two hundred Twinmoons old when she arrived – old for a novice – but it was blindingly obvious from the day she took the vows that she possessed a strength of character and power unusual for an untrained sorcerer.’ He shifted in his chair, then continued, ‘I was in love with her from the beginning. I know people say that is impossible, but it is true. I have lived now for nearly two thousand Twinmoons and I have never felt about anyone, except my children and even that is a different love, as deeply as I felt for Pikan – and that after knowing her for three days. Can you believe that? Educated people, scholars, magicians: we are not prone to such silly, infantile attractions. We knew after three days we were meant to be together for all time.’
‘What happened to her?’
Alen ignored the question, but continued with his story. ‘Pikan went to work on research with Nerak.’
‘The director of magic and medicine?’
‘Right, and the most powerful of all Larion magicians since Lessek himself. Nerak was driven, a veritable machine; he worked constantly, pushing himself further and further, always working to unlock magic’s secrets. Under his guidance, the Larion Senate experienced an era of growth and maturity unlike any in our history. He established standards by which our research was judged, by which our interventions and contributions to Eldarni culture could be measured.’
‘He sounds impressive.’
‘He was. And Pikan was his assistant. She thirsted for the knowledge he had at his fingertips. Together, they made a powerful team.’
‘But something went wrong?’
‘Not at first, no. Their efforts were a model for all our teams for many Twinmoons …’ He drifted off and stared into the fire.
‘But then?’ Hannah prodded, expecting the worst.
‘Then? Then Nerak began to grow distant. He allowed Pikan to recruit young sorcerers. Together we travelled throughout Eldarn, looking for children and young adults who showed promise, like Pikan had when she joined the Senate already grown. We figured if we could detect that level of potential early in life, we could foster a generation of sorcerers nearly as powerful as Nerak himself. Pikan was entrusted with their initial training. Nerak only took over when an especially promising magician came to Sandcliff.’
‘What was he doing instead?’
‘He was studying, experimenting, pushing ever deeper into the hazy morass of power and knowledge buried in the Larion spell table – that was the vehicle through which Larion magicians were able to tap power and in turn introduce certain magics to our world.’ Alen thought this over for a moment, then added, ‘To your world, too, I suppose.’
‘Really?’ Hannah tried to control the scepticism in her voice. ‘Sorry. It’s a little hard to believe we have any magic in my world.’
‘You have plenty, trust me – you need to learn how and where to look. Anyway, Fantus, the third director, and I decided it was time to intervene. Nerak was becoming too removed from his responsibilities, from our values. The Larion Senate was there as a service to Eldarn.’
‘He was greedy?’
‘He was. He had the potential to bring great things to our land, but after a while, he decided to keep it all for himself.’
‘And Pikan?’
Alen pursed his lips. ‘I blame myself for that. I should have paid attention. I never noticed how he looked at her. More than anything, that should have tipped me off – you know? When you cannot allow a person to leave the room without that last look, that final glimpse that says I will imprint this image on my mind until she comes back. That’s what he was doing. The line of her face or the taper of her legs, he needed those things to bring him back from the brink of whatever nightmares he explored while immersed in the spell table. Yes, I think he loved her very much.’
‘What happened?’ Hannah’s curiosity was aroused. ‘I mean, the way you are describing this – this triangle – it doesn’t sound like it had a good ending.’
‘It didn’t.’ Alen poured himself another mug of tecan. He offered Hannah the pot, but she shook her head. She was eager to hear the rest of the drama. ‘Nerak said something about her once; it was a shock and I wasn’t ready for it. I got angry and attacked him, but he was much more powerful than me, even then. I think he might have killed me if he’d had any idea of what the future held.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He lashed out with a spell. Oh, it wasn’t much, but it hit me hard and I fell and sprained my ankle. We were on a ship at the time, rounding the Northern Archipelago towards Larion Isle. It was a trip we made every ten Twinmoons or so – to do research and try out new magic.’ He chuckled; Hannah smiled at the rare sound. ‘Like checking out recipes, I suppose. Anyway, I spent the entire journey hobbling about in agony. We told everyone I’d tripped and twisted my ankle. They never knew we’d had a spat. Nerak and I never physically fought again, but we were never as close as we had been either.’
‘What did you mean when you said he would have killed you if he had known—’
‘Known what the future held.’ The old Larion Senator paused, still staring into the fireplace. ‘Pikan was pregnant; I think if Nerak had known that, he would have killed me that day and tossed my body overboard.’
‘Your baby?’
‘Our baby— Yes. That’s why she came with me to England.’
Hannah looked confused, so he elaborated, ‘I knew it was going to be a long trip. Pikan wasn’t showing yet and she hid the early sickness, so no one knew. I only needed Fantus’s approval for going to England, and we stayed until the baby was born and then—’ Alen stopped to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.
‘You left the baby there.’
‘We did.’ He choked back a sob, a disconcerting sound. ‘We left her there because we knew Nerak would kill her if he found out about her. We were married, Pikan had the baby and we found a family, a good family, there in Durham. We promised we would always come back to visit, and when she was old enough we would bring her home with us. I even made plans to construct a third portal without anyone knowing. I could have done it. I would have done it … but I never had the chance.’
Hannah was on tenterhooks now; her arms and legs were numb from sitting so long on the floor, but she dared not move and break the spell. ‘So what became of the baby? Did you visit? Did you bring her back?’
‘Reia.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Reia. That was her name, Reia. And no, we never made it back. She was very young, just a few Twinmoons old, when we returned to Eldarn, but we had to – there was no way I could justify our absence any longer.’ Alen cleared his throat, though his voice still shook as he spoke. ‘We had to keep up appearances while we planned some way to bring Reia home and find somewhere where she would be safe and where we could be together as a family. But I had to come to Praga, to Middle Fork. Pikan was so distraught she nearly collapsed the day I left, but I promised her – just as I promised Reia – anyway, I swore to Pikan we would figure out a way, even if it meant challenging Nerak, killing Nerak. I didn’t care at that point, but Pikan didn’t want it to come to that. At least we knew Reia was in good hands.’
‘So you came to Praga.’
‘To Middle Fork, and while I was gone, Nerak finally lost his battle for sanity. He destroyed the Larion Senate.’ Alen’s voice was calm now; he spoke in dead, flat tones. ‘He killed Pikan, his team, everyone.’
‘Why?’
‘My guess is that the magic he sought to control finally took
control of him and in doing so, he lost what was left of his already tenuous grip on reality. He killed them all.’
‘What happened to Reia?’ Hannah whispered, almost hoping Alen might not hear.
But he did, and he broke down again, weeping into his hands. ‘The far portals were lost, Sandcliff was all but destroyed and any means I had to get back to Durham was gone for ever.’
‘The far portal Steven found in Colorado—’
‘Was one of two we used to travel back and forth.’
‘Where was the other?’
‘In Prince Marek’s royal chambers at Welstar Palace in Malakasia – the lion’s den. I think Nerak placed it there. And I know in my heart that he remains involved to this day. He protects it. He is there. I can feel him, even from here, I can feel him there, laughing at me.’
‘Why not confront him? It’s been so long. Why not go and tell him of the baby, and ask for – demand, or, hell, steal the far portal if you have to?’
‘I was not permitted to go. It would have been suicide.’
‘Not permitted? What do you mean?’
‘Lessek.’ Contempt filled his voice.
‘You mentioned that name before.’ Hannah searched her memory for a moment before finding it. ‘That night – that first night when Churn carried you in. You said Lessek wouldn’t let you die? Why? First he wouldn’t let you confront Prince Marek, or Nerak, and now he won’t let you commit suicide. Why? What does he care?’