Legends of Australian Fantasy

by Jack

  ‘Because,’ she said, ‘they are magicians and the only way to fix this is to find the magic word.’

  * * * *

  Chapter XII

  The expedition to visit the site of Dirk Provin’s supposed veil between worlds was small. The High Prince of Hythria seemed convinced they were simply pandering to Adrina’s flight of fantasy. He could do little to argue the case, however, given the determination of his wife and Shananara, the Queen of the Harshini, who was adamant Adrina’s prescience should be taken seriously.

  They left after lunch, mounted in a small group with only two of Tarja’s red-coated Defenders as an escort — as they had the last time they undertook this journey. Adrina gave her horse its head as soon as they were over bridge and on the main road south, out of impatience as much as anything. Damin caught up with her quick enough, and demanded she slow down, something she was reluctantly forced to do when her child protested the jostling with a few well-placed kicks, hard enough to make her grunt.

  ‘See, even the child thinks you’re a lunatic for galloping off like that.’

  Adrina glanced over her shoulder at the others only a few paces behind them. ‘I don’t let you dictate to me, Damin. Why would I listen to your child?’

  Damin had no chance to answer before the rest of their party caught up to them. Shananara’s face creased with concern. ‘Should you be galloping like that in your condition, your highness?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Adrina said with a shrug. ‘Unless we find the magic word, I’m not going to give birth. Ever.’ She turned to the young man mounted on a borrowed Defender’s mount led by Tarja, his hands tied to the pommel of his saddle. ‘Isn’t that right, Master Provin?’

  ‘I assume so, your highness.’ The lad seemed a little reluctant to make a definitive ruling on the matter. He sat comfortably on the horse, clearly used to being in the saddle, but he was ill at ease.

  ‘Let’s not take that as a given,’ Damin suggested, frowning at the young man. ‘How far out of the Citadel did you say this world-bridging veil of yours is supposed to be?’

  Dirk looked around uncertainly. ‘I thought it was east of the Citadel. We were in a forested area. It took me less than an hour to find the road.’

  Tarja glanced at one of the guards, who nodded and pointed confidently east. ‘That would make it the woods around —’

  ‘Bottleneck Gorge,’ Adrina said, before the guard could answer. ‘That’s the only wooded area within half a day’s walk of the city.’

  ‘Bottleneck Gorge it is then,’ Tarja said, turning his mount east with a shrug, apparently not convinced, but not so certain Adrina was insane that he could ignore her, either. He tugged on Dirk’s lead rein, pulling the young man behind him. Adrina fell in beside Damin and Shananara, with the two Defenders behind them, and they headed toward a veil between two worlds that only Adrina and Dirk Provin believed was there.

  * * * *

  It was an hour or so later, once they were well into the tree line, that Adrina heard the rhythmic pounding she’d been waiting for; a noise so foreign to her senses that the first time she’d heard it, she thought she might have imagined it. A moment later, the ground shuddered with the impact of a massive explosion somewhere ahead of them.

  The horses reared in fright.

  ‘What the hell ...’ Tarja turned to Dirk as he fought to bring both his own mount and the one he was leading, under control. ‘Founders! What was that?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ the young man said, clinging to the pommel of his saddle with grim determination. ‘When I came through the veil it was like a mist. There was nothing burning. Nothing exploding, either.’

  ‘It’s the Tide Lords,’ Adrina said as she circled her mount a few times to settle him, and then turned to look in the direction of the explosion and the acrid black smoke billowing into the clear morning sky.

  Still looking sceptical, Tarja dismounted, and drew his sword. ‘Get down,’ he ordered the prisoner. ‘We’ll go on foot from here.’

  Dirk lifted his tied hands the few inches the slack in his bond would allow. ‘Love to,’ he said, ‘soon as you let me loose.’

  Tarja waved one of the Defenders forward, drawing his sword. Damin and Adrina — with some difficulty — dismounted as the guards released Dirk Provin. The second Defender took up the reins of their mounts. Dirk shook his hands in an attempt to restore circulation to them.

  ‘Stay here with the horses,’ Tarja ordered the Defenders, and then shoved Dirk none too gently to get him moving. ‘You go first.’

  Adrina pushed her way ahead of them. ‘Gods, Tarja, you’d think he was leading you into an ambush.’

  ‘Well, if it is, they’ll take him first, won’t they?’

  Dirk shook his head, smiling Damin offered Adrina his hand, which she accepted ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We don’t have much time before the veil closes in on us.’

  They hurried forward through the trees and the unnaturally silent forest. Adrina could feel the unspoken scepticism of her companions and ignored it. When they reached the narrow clearing bordering the edge of a steep gully, they stopped, staring at the strange machine that lay mangled and burning on the ground and the two men climbing from inside the belly of the mechanical beast. As it had the last time Adrina was here, smoke belched from the wreckage like a dragon spewing forth all the ills of the world. Her eyes watered as she stared at the spectacle, tapping her foot impatiently.

  ‘By the gods,’ Damin exclaimed, coming to a halt beside her. ‘What is this thing?’ He turned to Dirk Provin. ‘Is this what brought you here? This ... metal monster?’

  Dirk shook his head, as gobsmacked as they were. ‘I ... I have no idea ...’

  ‘It’s a helicopter,’ Adrina said as one of the men climbed from the wrecked metal contraption.

  He winced in pain and then turned to glance at his companion, but made no move to help him. The man turned back to look at them. ‘What? You all look like you’ve never seen a chopper before?’

  ‘They haven’t,’ Adrina announced, stepping forward. ‘Well, no actually, they have. They just don’t remember it. You’re Declan Hawkes, right? And that is Cayal Lakesh?’

  ‘I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more, Dorothy,’ Cayal grunted, still trying to extract himself from the wreckage with some difficulty. When he was free, he clambered out of the burning wreck and looked around, his curious gaze fixing on Adrina. His companion seemed equally disturbed. ‘I’ll lay you odds we’re not even on Earth any longer, Rodent.’ He studied Adrina curiously for a moment. ‘How do you know who we are ?’

  ‘We’ve met before, although you probably don’t remember it. You just ditched some crystal you’re trying to hide in something called the Mariana Trench and believe there’s no way your friend Lukys has had time to find it and open a rift. Oh, and it’s not High Tide yet.’ She turned and added to her husband. ‘I know ... we’re nowhere near the coast here. Just trust me on this, Damin.’

  The two men from the wreckage of the metallic beast stared at her with concern. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Medalon. You have come through the veil. I am Her Serene Highness, Princess Adrina. This is my husband, Prince Damin, High Prince of Hythria, Tarja Tenragan, the Lord Defender of Medalon, Shananara, Queen of the Harshini, and Dirk Provin, who is a prince and a religious leader on his world of Ranadon.’

  ‘Well, at least they sent a welcoming committee worthy of us,’ Cayal remarked to his companion. ‘Where did you say we are?’

  ‘Medalon,’ Tarja said, taking a step forward, his sword still held out threateningly in front of him.

  ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘Nor have you yet told us where you came from. Or what that metallic beast is. Or how you killed it.’

  Adrina slapped Tarja’s blade away impatiently. ‘We don’t have time for any of this idiotic male posturing,’ she said. ‘The veil will envelop us soon and before it does, we need to find the magic word.’

  ‘Please?’
Cayal ventured with a tentative smile.

  Adrina wanted to stamp her foot with impatience at these foolish men, but she knew she didn’t have time. The clearing was already filling with a haze which she suspected was more than just the result of the metal machine crash. The veil was taking them over once more. Any minute now, the loud buzzing would start up.

  She didn’t want to do this over and over again.

  ‘What do you want us to do, your highness?’ Dirk Provin asked. He seemed to understand her impatience. And believe her when she claimed this had all happened before.

  ‘Believe what I’m telling you, that would be a good start,’ she snapped. ‘I know you all think I’m losing my mind, but this has happened before. Who knows how many times? I’ve been through the same veil that brought you two here,’ she explained, pointing to Declan and Cayal, ‘and you,’ she added to Dirk. ‘I have seen other worlds too, and I met Brak and R’shiel and a leipreachán.

  ‘What’s a leipreachán?’ Damin asked.

  ‘It’s an Irish fairy,’ Declan replied, looking around with a frown. ‘Are you certain we’re not on Earth?’

  ‘I don’t even know what Earth is,’ Adrina said, annoyed at the interruption. ‘I only know the leipreachán said the Creator has lost interest in us, and that to save our worlds we need to discover the magic word.’

  ‘You do know leipreacháns are sneaky little buggers who like to play tricks on people, don’t you?’ Cayal said, clearly doubtful of her sanity.

  ‘I believe her,’ Dirk Provin said.

  ‘You would,’ Tarja snapped, rolling his eyes.

  ‘Well, on the balance of things, your story is no crazier than anything else that’s happened today,’ Declan said with a shrug. ‘Exactly how did you meet this leipreachán anyway?’

  Adrina wasn’t sure she had time to explain. The mist seemed to be getting closer. As quickly as she could, she told them her story. About how she was certain she’d lived this day over and over. How she’d met Dirk before and how they’d come here to find the Tide Lords. She told them about the loud buzzing noise and falling through the veil; about meeting Brak and R’shiel and the leipreachán and his insistence that the secret to their future was to discover the magic word. They listened to her in silence, giving Adrina no hint as to whether they believed her or not.

  She never really got a chance to find out if they did believe her story. Adrina had barely finished her tale when the buzzing noise started. Reaching for the nearest person, the bright light blinded her as she began to fall through the veil, with no idea where she would land, or who was falling with her.

  * * * *

  Chapter XIII

  Every morning, a small brown bird flew down to eat the crumbs the High Princess of Hythria sprinkled on the sill outside the living-room window of her borrowed apartment in the Medalonian capital, the Citadel. This morning was the same as every other morning. He landed on the very edge on the stonework, tentatively approaching the crumbs, tweeting softly ... and then flew away squawking in fright at the appearance of a small man dressed in a red woollen suit, who was suddenly and inexplicably perched on the windowsill.

  Adrina stared at the leipreachán and then glanced over her shoulder at Damin, who was engrossed in the scroll he was reading, and utterly disinterested in his wife’s preoccupation with taming the birds who inhabited the high towers of the Citadel.

  ‘How did you get here?’ Adrina asked, turning back to the leipreachán.

  ‘Same way you got to my story, I imagine,’ he said, looking past Adrina to examine the room curiously. ‘Is that ye husband?’

  ‘If I answer you, will you tell me the magic word?’

  The leipreachán laughed. ‘Ye’ve not had any luck finding it then?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be here feeding sparrows if I had,’ she pointed out grumpily.

  The little man seemed to find that terribly amusing. He crossed his arms and his legs and looked out over the tall white towers of the Citadel for a moment with a wistful sigh. ‘Seems a pity this is all going to fade away soon. All for want of one little word.’

  ‘And what word would that be?’

  ‘Ah ... now that’s ye problem, dearie. Not mine.’

  Adrina reached out to grab the little man, but he disappeared over the edge of the sill before she could reach him. For a moment, the idea of him plummeting to the ground where someone would have to scrape him off the pavement with a shovel was very satisfying, but then she realised the leipreachán probably couldn’t die here, because he wasn’t from her world ...

  ‘We have to see Tarja’s prisoner,’ Adrina announced abruptly.

  Damin looked up. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘When Tarja gets here,’ she said impatiently. ‘We have to see his prisoner.’

  ‘Ah ... when Tarja gets here?’

  Precisely on cue, there was a knock at the door to their apartment.

  ‘That’ll be Tarja ...’ she said, looking unavoidably smug as Damin crossed the sitting room. He opened the door and stepped back to allow their visitor into the room. Sure enough, it was Tarja.

  The Lord Defender bowed politely to both of them. ‘Good morning Damin. Your highness.’

  ‘Good morning, Tarja,’ Adrina said. ‘Let’s go.’

  Tarja stared at her in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I need to speak to Dirk Provin,’ she said, picking up her shawl. ‘Don’t worry, you can explain who he is to Damin on the way.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ he repeated, looking at her oddly.

  ‘Adrina seems to have ... lost her mind, actually,’ Damin said, as she headed down the hall. Adrina didn’t care what he thought. The end of the world was at stake.

  * * * *

  The stone cellblock was dimly lit as usual, the only daylight coming from the narrow windows at the top of each cell with bars set into the thick granite blocks. Dust motes danced in the infrequent light, stirred into frenzy by their passing. Dirk Provin stood up from his pallet as they approached she bars of his cell, his expression filled with hope and expectation.

  ‘I was expecting the Lord Defender —’

  ‘Do you know who I am?’

  Dirk shook his head. ‘Should I?’

  ‘I suppose not, but it would have simplified things if you remembered. You’re Dirk Provin, right? You come from an entirely different world. Your world has two suns and we speak the same language because we all come from the same Creator.’

  Dirk Provin stared at Adrina with a look very similar to the one her husband and Damin had treated her to, earlier.

  ‘How do you know that?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Adrina said, ‘but to save time, let’s just agree that the veil between our worlds is breaking down and you crossed into your world near a place on your world called ... well, truth is, I can’t remember what it was called, but it doesn’t really matter.’

  ‘Omaxin,’ Dirk said, looking very unsettled. ‘It was near Omaxin.’

  ‘Whatever ... the point is, I know how to fix things.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘We need the magic word.’

  ‘Well, naturally,’ Dirk said in a tone that said he was humouring her and probably thought her barking mad. ‘And how do you know we need ... the magic word.’

  ‘Because I’ve met people from other worlds besides you.’

  Dirk’s expression abruptly changed from scepticism to relief. ‘You believe me, then?’

  ‘Of course I believe you. But I need to you to explain something. You say you come from another world?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s called Ranadon.’

  ‘This other ... man, I met. He didn’t call his world a world. He called it his story.’

  ‘You hesitated when you said man.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure he was a man, come to think of it. He called himself a leipreachán. Declan Hawkes says that is some sort of Irish fairy.’

  ‘Then perhaps story means to him what world means to us?’
Dirk ventured, looking a little uncertain.

  ‘But why would it?’ she asked. ‘You said it yourself. We all speak the same language because we all come from the same creator. Why wouldn’t we use the same words to mean the same thing?’

  Dirk thought about that for a moment and then nodded. ‘So you think the Creator is —’

  ‘Creating stories, not worlds,’ she finished for him, his measured tones too slow for her excitement. ‘It makes perfect sense, don’t you see? We’re not separate worlds, we’re separate stories, and the new stories, like the one with the leipreachán, are taking over from the old.’

  ‘And one single word is going to save us?’