The Other Side (Thomas Skinner Book 1)

by S. I. Anderson

  It sat on the left side of the road and consisted of a small wooden cabin where an overweight and overly hairy man slouched. Next to it was what Tom guessed to be the waiting room – four pillars holding up a thatched roof. There were no walls. Behind the station, surrounded by trees, was a dirt track that seemed to lead nowhere.

  “Don’t talk,” Jenna whispered in his ear and he wondered when he ever did. She stepped forward to address the man. “Four tickets to Serpent's Square,” she said.

  The large man leaned forward and peered at them individually as his eyes moved from one to another. They came to rest on Tom.

  “What’s your name, boy?” he grumbled.

  “His name is none of your concern. You are obliged by law to provide tickets without question to whosoever asks of you,” Jenna said somewhat haughtily.

  The man sat up and blinked a few times, startled. His hand reached for a drawer below and he pulled, half-opening it. He paused and with his hand resting on it, leaned forward again, sizing her up and down. He slammed the drawer closed.

  “You should be careful about what you say,” the man said. He reached forward suddenly and grabbed her by the arm. “Simple folk like us, well, we might not understand the law properly, see.” His lips spread in a sneer and he pulled her close. “We might feel threatened, might do something stupid,” he said as he gently moved away the hair that covered her ears. “And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he asked as he stared at her ear and the sparkling ring attached to it.

  “Do something,” Gemma hissed, and she pushed Tom and Saafir forward.

  Tom wanted to do something, but he was in a sort of daze, a little astounded that something so simple as buying tickets could so quickly escalate into being grabbed and threatened by a creepy and possibly perverted man.

  He looked to Saafir for help and at the same time the man let out a stifled groan. Jenna stepped back, having freed herself from his grip.

  “How dare you touch me?” Jenna said angrily, undeterred by the way the man seemed to be trying to get out of his cabin. “Do you know whose company we travel in?”

  She grabbed hold of Saafir and pulled him level with her before she pushed him at the man. Saafir stumbled and had to grab onto the counter to stop from falling. He turned to look back, his eyes wide.

  “What are you-”

  “Tell him who you are,” Jenna cut him off.

  The man grabbed Saafir by the collar with one hand and pulled him up off the ground. He raised his other hand in a fist that coloured quickly into a burning red. “You better hope you’re some-”

  He stopped as his eyes caught sight of what hung around Saafir’s neck. It was a chain, and on it was a silver eagle. The eagle raised its head lazily and yawned as it looked up. The man slowly released Saafir and backed into the cabin.

  “My lord...” He dropped to his knees and cowered in the corner. “Please forgive me, my lord.”

  Saafir hastily tucked the necklace under his clothes. “I forgive you,” he said. “Give me the tickets.”

  “Please... I have children.” The man’s voice began to tremble.

  “I forgive you. Give me the tickets.”

  “They have no mother, my lord,” the man continued. “They would be all alone in-”

  “All is forgiven you idiot! Now give me the tickets before I have your head struck off and used as a-” Saafir paused. “Give me the tickets,” he finished.

  The man got up and reached for the drawer he had half-opened earlier. He tore off four slips and bowing, held them out. Tom knew wizards paid in dust, but he still gawked as little specks of silver floated out of Saafir’s pouch.

  “There is no need to pay, my lord,” the man whimpered.

  “Shut up and take the money,” Jenna said. “And don’t ever touch another person’s hair, or their ears. Or any part of their body,” she added. “Actually, don’t even look at them.”

  With his head still bowed, the man nodded vigorously. They left him to walk the short distance to the sitting area. Once there, they sat down on a long bench as they waited for their carriage.

  There was something about Saafir that used to bug Tom a little. It made sense now, why he wasn’t afraid of Fredrick, why the other children in school left him alone when they were together, why Madam Stewart hadn’t thrown him out of her class for wrecking it, why Master Kaya had chosen him to duel Fredrick.

  “I never said I wasn’t one,” Saafir said, breaking the silence and apparently talking to the ground as he frowned down at it. “And you,” he looked up at Jenna, “don’t ever do that again.”

  An awkward silence followed.

  “I think it's noble how you try to hide your... nobility,” Jenna said. “It’s nice that you’re humble.”

  There was a long gap before Saafir spoke. “It is hard being-” He stopped. “You can’t choose who your-” He paused again. “I’m not ungrateful...” he began slowly, thoughtfully. “It’s just... my whole life is already decided for me.”

  Silence followed. Saafir had said what he had to say, and Tom thought he understood. Sort of. A while passed before the ticket man came to inform them their carriage was ready.

  The dirt track that seemed to lead to nowhere still seemed to lead to nowhere. Tom stared out of the window as the carriage picked up speed quickly. Just as he was sure they were about to crash into the trees ahead, he felt the carriage rise. The dirt track was a runway. The carriage was flying.

  With his bird's-eye-view, Tom spotted the town almost immediately. It was similar to those on the Other Side. Smaller buildings cluttered the outskirts. They grew in size as they reached the town centre. A few were made from stone, but most were of brick. Some had straw-thatched roofs.

  Theirs wasn’t the only carriage in the air. He could see a few brooms too, flying about just outside the town. One even whizzed past his window.

  The carriage began its descent. Tom could see where it was going to land. With two runways made of stone, platforms and many ticket counters, the town’s carriage station was much bigger, and much busier.

  Once on the platform Tom watched, mesmerised, as the horses jumped, their hooves treading air like it was solid. There were so many wizards and witches hurrying about too, carrying all sorts. His eyes fell upon a woman holding a cage. Inside was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen before – it was like a cross between a lizard and a fluffy rabbit.

  He could have stood there and stared forever were it not for the incessant tugging. Annoyed, he looked down at the hand that pulled his and followed it up. His eyes came to rest on another pair of dark purple eyes that glared at him.

  They belonged to Gemma.

  “I’m just looking,” Tom said defensively.

  “Your mouth is open.”

  He raised his free hand to his mouth. It was odd how you never noticed something so obvious until someone pointed it out. His mouth was open.

  Gemma turned and, still holding his hand, led him down the platform and out of the station. The roads were narrow and busy. They had pavements but no-one seemed to care as they walked on the roads in-between carriages.

  They were in the town proper, walking past buildings of stone, when Gemma finally let his hand go. A few turns later and they came upon the town square. A fountain in the middle spouted water out of heads of three serpents. Inns lined all four sides and wizards and witches spilled out in their numbers.

  “They’re all like us...” Tom said, the disappointment clear in his voice.

  “What were you expecting?”

  “An elf or two, a few dwarfs, some dragon riders, a flying swordsman. I don’t know. Something more than just witches and wizards,” Tom said, exasperated.

  “They have their own towns.”

  “Don’t you ever mix?”

  Jenna shook her head. “Wanderer towns... are they mixed?”

  “No,” Tom paused, “but that’s different.”

  She stared at him expectantly.

  “Becaus
e-” Tom stopped. He didn’t really feel like explaining. “Which way to the seer?” he asked instead.

  Jenna led the way out of the square and down one of the roads. It quickly became evident they were heading for a less desirable part of town. The further they walked, the narrower and dirtier the roads became. The pavements had more rubble, the roads more potholes, lampposts were further apart, some didn’t work, others' flames flickered. A final turn led them onto a street that ended as a close.

  “It’s on this road,” Jenna announced.

  It was a street full of shops but no customers. The small brick buildings with their dust-covered windows were mostly dark and derelict. A few had lamps burning, showing just enough of what lay inside. Tom stared in those as they walked past.

  One had a cage full of animals that looked alive but were oddly still. Another had nothing but glass jars, some empty, others filled with liquid, a few with rodent-like creatures squirming inside. One shop had a man sitting behind a desk in an otherwise empty room.

  “What does he sell?” Tom asked.

  “His services,” Saafir said. When Tom stared at him blankly, he added, “He’s an assassin. I don’t think he’s very good though.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “He would set up in a busier part of town. He would have a lot of weapons on display. And if he was really good, he would have a head or two stuck on a wall.”

  “I think we’re here,” Jenna said.

  The lighting was bad where she had stopped. Written in dark green against a light green back, the sign was supposed to read, ‘The All Seeing Seer’. A few letters had completely disappeared, leaving it as ‘T All S ing S er’.

  Tom peered in through the window. He could make out the glow of a candle. He pushed open the door and walked in. It was a small room, dark and cluttered. Cauldrons littered the floor on all sides, shelves covered the walls; most had books on them, a few had mangled metal objects.

  In the centre of the room was a table on which was something round covered in a piece of cloth.

  “What do you want?”

  Tom jumped back, startled. He wasn’t the only one. Gemma was holding his hand again, and tightly this time. A little man stood before him, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

  “We’re looking for the seer,” Tom said.

  “You have money?”

  Saafir pulled out a pouch and opened it. Gold dust floated out.

  “Sit,” the little man said and he removed the cloth from the table to reveal a round black object.

  “We’re not here for that,” Saafir said distastefully.

  “What then?”

  “You know of dreams?”

  The little man’s blue eyes narrowed as they shifted from one to another. A smile crept onto his face, revealing his teeth. There were three – all at the front and next to each other. One white tooth in-between two yellow ones.

  “Who’s dreaming?” he asked.

  Tom raised his hand a little uncertainly. He suddenly felt uncomfortable being here, having to share with this stranger something he had told very few. He wondered if he was supposed to share his dreams with the man. Was it safe to do that?

  “He’s here to dream,” Jenna said. “You have potions for that?”

  The little man did not answer. His eyes lingered on Tom a moment before he disappeared through a door amidst the shelves. He returned with a bowl in one hand and a glass beaker full of green slime in the other.

  He pulled out a chair for Tom to sit and placed the bowl in front of him. He poured in the slime and stirred. Smoke began to rise from the bowl and go up through his nose. He wondered if that was supposed to happen.

  It was too late to ask.

  The lack of sleep was getting to him again. His eyelids suddenly felt so heavy again. He would close them, just for a bit.

  Tom opened his eyes. There were large steps in front of him. Behind him was a single gate, beyond which was nothingness. The place seemed familiar. Where was he? He remembered – the seer’s shop. He had been inhaling smoke, his eyelids weighed heavy, he'd closed them. And now he was here?

  Was he asleep?

  Was this a dream?

  He climbed the steps one at a time – slowly at first. His pace began to quicken. Something was calling him, pulling him. He stopped as he reached the top and stood in-between the two green pillars with their silver bases.

  The door in front led into the House of Zarlock. They flung open, invitingly. Tom stepped through. It was him. Not an old man, but him. Was this a dream? Or had he been transported here somehow?

  He walked through the hall beneath the archways, the silver and green stripes above, the green pillars beside him – his pace began to quicken again. He stepped through a door, and then another and another.

  Urgency grew in him, he began to run. And they cheered him on as he passed. He came upon the spiral staircase. He dropped to his knees as he felt a pang of sadness. He clutched his chest. He wanted to pound through it, to rid himself of the feeling of emptiness that had taken residence there.

  He felt himself rise, his feet begin to move. It was the staircase on the right they were headed for. Tom resisted. He had been up there before, seen what was there.

  He could feel the hesitation as whoever it was, whatever it was, deliberated. It pulled him forward, not up the staircase but past it, through the door and into a corridor, through another door, another hall and another corridor.

  He came to the last door and it flung open for him. Tom stopped. He could see inside. At the end of the room was a long table. That was where he needed to go, but he was suddenly nervous.

  Tall imposing men in armour stood on both sides of the room leading up to the table. They were like a guard of honour but instead of standing at attention they watched him, making him feel smaller than ever.

  He took a deep breath, mustered up his courage and, staring straight ahead, took long big strides until he reached the table. There were many things on it, each green and silver, each sparkly, each wanting to be touched.

  But he was there for one thing only. About the length of his arm from his elbow down, decorated in a wavy curl of silver and green, it was simple enough and beautiful. It was a wand. And it was his.

  Tom reached for it and picked it up.

  His eyelids weighed heavy but Tom managed to open them some. There was a bowl in front of him. And familiar faces around. It had been a dream... But there was something missing.

  “It doesn’t hurt...”

  He felt a little groggy, but there was none of the usual pain that left him feeling like something had torn his body apart. The little man leaned right up to his face and stared at him with those beady blue eyes of his.

  “What doesn’t hurt?”

  Tom moved back in his chair. “My dreams hurt sometimes,” he said, trying his hardest to sound casual about it. “I hear that’s not normal?”

  “Can happen, but would be pointless.”

  “Pointless?”

  “If the person wasn’t dead,” the little man said, “it wouldn’t be just their souls in your dreams; it would be bones and flesh too. That would hurt,” the little man said sincerely. “But if they were alive, they wouldn’t need to come to you in your dreams.”

  But if they were alive... did that mean...? Tom looked up at the twins and Saafir. They stared back at him, eyes widened.

  “Maybe it’s a child,” the little man mused. “A wretched scoundrel playing a trick on you,” he said, his voice rising. “If I ever get my hands on those-” He stopped and stared at them. His eyes narrowed, his mouth tightened and he extended a bony hand out. “Pay me!” he shouted. “Pay me you sons of no good doers.” Black smoke began to gather around him, coming off his clothes. “Scoundrels, you won’t leave without paying me.”

  Saafir already had the dust in his hand from earlier. Startled by the sudden change in the little man’s mood, he threw it at him. Tom felt someone grab his hand and pull him off the chair. It
was Gemma. Saafir was already out the door with Jenna close behind. It seemed they weren’t going to wait for the man to count the dust. How did you count dust, anyway?

  Tom darted after Gemma, not that keen to know. Once outside, they continued to run until they reached the end of the street. Breathless, Tom had to pause.

  “The Zarlocks are alive?” Saafir asked.

  Jenna looked over her shoulder. “Not here,” she warned.

  “Let’s go.” Gemma pulled Tom by the arm.

  He hadn’t finished resting, but at least they weren’t running anymore. He wondered if that was why the beast was still lurking outside the House of Zarlock. Was it waiting for them to come out? The bodies he had seen in that bed, were they alive?

  What about the wand? How did that fit into it?

  They were near the town square when Tom walked into Saafir’s extended arm. The three of them were standing still, staring ahead at the fountain and the crowd gathered around it.

  “Why have we stopped?” Tom asked.

  Jenna turned her eyes away from the crowd to look at him. “Are you not listening?”

  He hadn’t been listening. He had been deep in thought. But he did listen now. And what he thought was just an innocent crowd drinking, singing and being generally merry was something more sinister.

  They weren’t singing.

  They were chanting.

  “Le Le Le Fay.”

  “We are Le Fay.”

  “The boy cannot stay.”

  “Burn burn burn.”

  “Burn the breeder.”

  “Send him away.”

  “Le Le Le Fay.”

  “We are Le Fay.”

  For the first time, Tom truly understood what Saafir had meant when he said the Le Fays hated him. There were hundreds of grown men and women there, chanting for his death. He was barely a teenager. They had never met him and he hadn’t done anything to them. How could they hate him so much?

  “We need to go.”

  Someone pulled his hood further down his head. They were moving again, towards the crowd. It was so large; they would have to go through it to get to the other side.

  “Keep your head down,” someone hissed in his ear.