‘What is wrong with you? Did the Sleeping Mother fry your brain last night? You could have got someone killed.’ Mor’seka splashed angrily through the marsh water.
‘That’s actually what I was trying to prevent.’
‘What? Who, your invisible friend? You’re supposed to be an adult now. You need to grow up.’
Mor’seka turned back towards the dead Rheadak to finish the ritual as the rest of the villagers waited to assist with the long process of preparing the bird for the feast. Tar’sel was soon alone in the marshes.
‘What the heck just happened? I thought I was dead.’
‘You!’ Tar’sel jumped out of his skin as the figure floated by his shoulder. At such close proximity he recognised her in an instant.
‘You can’t die, you’re… not really here. Take a look at yourself, I can see sunlight right through you.’
‘I… I’m bloody see-through?’ Charlotte waved her arms frantically, swishing them through water, reeds and Tar’sel himself. ‘Am I… a ghost?’
‘For Odin’s sake, calm down.’
‘Odin? Who are you people? Have I somehow jumped back in time?’
‘Not back, no. More like… across.’ Tar’sel was over the shock of Charlotte’s sudden appearance. ‘The Triverse is made up of Syluria, Earth and the Unseen World of the Shriven. While each Verse is a fruit hanging from their own separate branch of the Great Tree, they are also connected by it and the Dreamtime is the sap flow. That’s how the Draoi explain it to us anyway.’
Charlotte didn’t say a word. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck buzzing. This was certainly a world not marked on any map she knew of.
‘We’re called the Manush de Rukh by the way; it means “people of wood”, but people usually call us the Tree Weavers.’
‘I thought the people of the wood were called Veshengo.’ Charlotte found her voice again.
Tar’sel laughed. ‘Are you serious? Can a Veshengo do this?’ He spat a ledome pip onto the ground and scooped a handful of soil around it. Making symbols with his hands over the centre of the pile of dirt, Tar’sel chanted over and over till a tiny green shoot appeared. Changing pitch, he coaxed more shoots out of the earth and, as they thickened and unfurled leaves, he began to loosely knit the stems together creating intricate, golden and green sonic patterns on the skin of the new stems. As he did so the swirling patterns on his arms and neck pulsed with energy – as did the lightning burns on Charlotte’s own arm.
‘That’s a neat skill.’
‘It’s simple enough. The trick is to tune into the plant’s individual song and, with a few harmonies, you can guide its growth any way you want. It has many practical applications; making houses, growing crops, healing. The Nymet Draoi teach us weaving from birth… have you heard of the Nymet?’
There was that word again. It gave her goosebumps for some reason.
‘I certainly seem to be hearing that word a lot recently.’
The boy seemed happy that she knew what he was talking about and she didn’t have the heart to correct him.
‘My people tell legends about you, you know. “The flame-haired girl from the mystical land of Albion.” Not many Sylurians have been there but those that come back say it is a strange world covered with gold and where stars dance across the sky at night. I’ve heard people fly on dragons and ride on the back of whales that glide on top of the oceans.’ The boy looked at her expectantly for confirmation that the stories were true.
‘Hmm, well perhaps you can visit some time and I could show you around,’ Charlotte said, not able to think of anything more diplomatic to say.
He seemed disappointed.
‘I don’t know what I was expecting but I guess someone more… regal.’ Tar’sel eyed her up and down.
‘Sorry to be a disappointment.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘So, don’t you think you should tell me my story then? I’m liking the flame-haired bit. Beats “carrot top”,’ Charlotte asked.
‘I don’t know much to be honest; they vary. Some say you’re a human and others say you’re a seven-foot-tall, blood-drinking monster. Some even think you’re a Vorla… which is impossible…’
‘A what now?’ Charlotte replied, concerned at the implication that she was somehow worse than a blood-drinking monster.
‘Their official title is Manush de Bar – the people of rock. They are the oldest of all beings, born in the dark coldness of the Mountain of Mourne, formed from the dreams of the Sleeping Mother herself. Cunning as sharks they are, ruthless in their pursuit of knowledge and have been known to drive men insane…’
‘I have to say I’m not liking this story.’
‘Probably shouldn’t have mentioned them.’ The boy stood up suddenly. ‘You should go now, it’s not safe for you to be here again – not everyone sees you as a saviour.’
Again? Charlotte wondered what he meant but there was no time to ask, she could feel herself fading and there were more important things to discuss.
‘Has there been anyone else like me pass through here?’ she asked the green-skinned boy.
‘I don’t think I’d even need Mor’seka for that sort of gossip,’ he laughed. ‘I don’t think a human of Albion has been seen in living memory. No, that would certainly be big news indeed and hard to miss. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason.’ Charlotte tried to hide her disappointment. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Tar’sel.’
‘I’m Charlotte, I have a feeling I will be seeing you again, Tar’sel,’ Charlotte said before disappearing.
The twin suns were setting as Charlotte faded out of Syluria. Tar’sel sat up near the base of the Nymet hill as the fishermen came in with their catch. Silver scales flashed in the first light of Syluria’s smallest moon and remaining sunlight as the party trekked up across the plain to the central grove of the Tree Weaver village.
In the temple above him the Draoi priestesses had begun to chant pure, clear tones in celebration of the festival feast and in the valley below, the villagers answered them.
Saaaaaaar, Reeeeeei, Gaaaaaaaaaaar
Saaaaaaar, Reeeeeei, Gaaaaaaaaaaar
Tar’sel expected to be hungry and curious to try the new delicacy, but he simply climbed higher to watch the last rays of the dying sun, whispering a prayer of gratitude and expressing his desire that it should return on the morrow.
*
A rough wet tongue and the smell of well-chewed pigs’ ears brought Charlotte round and she came face-to-face with a chocolate brown Labrador.
‘Yes, practically on death’s door I see.’ Mr Ransell pulled the dog away. ‘You’d better enjoy the place while you can, they are going to be cutting this monstrosity down soon.’
‘Who? What?’ Charlotte was still groggy.
‘The local council. I advised them about its recent calamity, as is my civic duty, and they have deemed it unsafe. I should think it will be down before the summer.’ Mr Ransell grimaced at Charlotte and she had never felt more like punching him. Interfering old git.
‘We’ll see about that,’ Charlotte retorted.
‘Oh I do like a challenge,’ Mr Ransell said before turning and heading down the hill.
‘By the way, consider this a notification for your second detention. I will expect to see you in class tomorrow, 7.30 sharp, Miss Stone, or that will magic into a double detention. I have a feeling I shall be seeing a lot of you this year,’ he chuckled before disappearing amongst the trees.
*
Clarissa was laying the table for dinner as Charlotte got back to the house and her stomach lurched as she realised she had been rumbled.
‘So much for being ill, mmm?’ Clarissa said as Charlotte pulled off her boots.
‘I had to get some fresh air,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me where I’ve been?’
Clarissa turned and looked her up and down. ‘I don’t need to, Syluria is all over you.’
Bel
leswater Hospital
It was raining once again as Neva walked to the Petrie research block. Summer was waking up slowly this year and she was beginning to miss the warmth of her home country. She was grateful, however, for the continued funding of her research. Mr Aherne seemed more than happy for her to take as long as she needed and was more than generous with her expenses. Still, she often had a niggling doubt in the back of her head: why was he so interested?
Etienne was waiting for her in the lab. ‘Good morning, Miss Oblaha, my fellow time traveller.’ Etienne smiled a cheeky smile before removing his hat and executing a deep, sweeping bow. Though she still didn’t know how to take him, he was so flamboyant and charming that Neva couldn’t help but smile in return.
‘Good morning, Mr Aherne,’ she replied. ‘I’m afraid I’ve nothing new to report but I do have some more ideas and tests to run.’
‘Wonderful, wonderful, my dear, I have every confidence in you and have no doubt you are doing the best you can.’ He played with a few petri dishes and adjusted a magnifying glass as Neva dumped her coat and turned on the kettle.
‘Would you like to join me for a coffee, Mr Aherne?’ she asked as he stared intently at a piece of pottery collected from the Nile delta.
‘Hmm? What’s that?’ Etienne dropped the pottery back into the box. ‘Ahh no… no I won’t, but thank you and please, call me Etienne, dear girl.’
Neva flinched automatically as the pottery piece cracked against the box, chipping off a minute fragment of blue glaze.
‘Anything I can do to help around here, Neva?’
‘No…! No I’ve got everything in hand,’ she replied, her voice strained.
‘The Stones always said you were the best, dear, and I don’t doubt they are right.’ Etienne shook his head appreciatively. ‘Perhaps I could just see the item in question while I’m here though.’
‘It’s… in tests at the moment.’ Neva had the strangest feeling that she didn’t want him touching the stone, and it had nothing to do with his apparent clumsiness. He looked visibly disappointed and she instantly regretted her white lie.
‘I see, I see… perhaps you can call me as soon as it becomes free then, I simply must see it “in the flesh” as it were.’ his smile a little too sickly. ‘It really is quite important.’
‘Of course, as soon as it’s free,’ Neva promised. ‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Ask away, my dear girl.’
‘It’s not that I’m not grateful but, why are you supporting this project, Mr Ah… Etienne?’
‘You are a curious thing,’ he chuckled. ‘Well, I have family connections to the Stones. When I heard the project was in trouble and they disappeared, being a bit of an amateur Egyptologist, I decided I could help out.’
‘But this isn’t an Egyptian artefact.’
‘Ah but do we know that for sure? One of the interesting things about archaeology is, we can find things in the most unusual of places.’
Neva couldn’t argue with that, and the stone was certainly an enigma.
‘Well, if there really is nothing I can do then, my dear, I shall be off. Things to do, places to be, people to visit.’
‘OK, right. It was good to see you.’ Neva trusted herself with a simple smile.
‘It’s been a pleasure,’ Etienne winked before kissing her hand, ‘and don’t forget to call.’
Neva breathed a silent sigh of relief as he made to leave. She nearly flinched as he rounded on her once more.
‘Just one more question, my dear, was there a key?’
Neva’s throat was so dry she could only shake her head.
*
The sun was shining and he had a spring in his step so Etienne decided he would walk to Belleswater Hospital rather than take the bus. He remembered the day he escorted the strange little red-head girl on this very same route and smiled. Charlotte had been so much easier to find than he could ever have hoped – what with Neva and the hospital, everything had practically fallen into his lap.
‘Good morning, Adele my love,’ Etienne announced to the chubby blonde-haired woman who sat behind the reception desk.
‘Good morning, Mr Aherne, lovely to see you again, you’re just in time for some good news too: Edessa is off the ventilators.’
‘Now now, I’ve told you about that, Adele, it’s Etienne to my friends; and yes, that is encouraging news.’ He plucked a flower from the bunch he held and presented it to her in a flourish. Adele giggled like a school girl; her cheeks flushed.
‘Edessa is very lucky to have such a charming uncle,’ she cooed. ‘We don’t need to bother with your ID card, I think we know you well enough by now,’ she said, waving Etienne through to the private rooms.
‘Always my favourite,’ he winked at her before heading down the corridor.
*
Edessa’s room was a good size, with clean white walls and a large window that let in a lot of light. Etienne moved over to the window and adjusted the blinds.
‘That’s better,’ he whispered in the gloom and lay the flowers on the bedside stand.
‘Now then, little girl, do you have any answers for me today?’ The only reply was the beeps and whirs of the various machines surrounding the bed. Etienne waited as if he expected Edessa to suddenly sit up in bed, before sighing and turning his attention to the flowers.
‘See what I brought you today, Edessa,’ he said, arranging them into an empty vase. ‘I really do want to be friends.’
More beeping and whirring but Edessa just lay there.
‘I’ve met that sister of yours, did I tell you? Oh, I must have done in one of my visits. She’s quite a feisty one; I do hope you know what you’re doing,’ he chuckled. Still he was greeted only with her silence.
‘You really would be the better choice but I guess the decision is made now, the game begun, no point dwelling on it now. Let’s hope she can make it to the end. Of course she might just get her hands on a useful little book, if she knows how to ask nicely. What she really needs though is a key.’
The machines continued their steady sounds and movements.
‘Well, if you won’t talk to me by your own volition, there are always other ways,’ he sighed and pulled up a chair to the bed.
Once he found a comfortable position, he placed his hands on Edessa’s temples and closed his eyes. Inside his head, he heard her scream.
*
In the still of the night only the soft clicking and whirring of machines could be heard in room 11 yet the room was a hive of activity. A young security guard was sitting in the lobby playing Candy Crush on his mobile so it completely escaped his notice when the lights in the corridor dimmed slightly for a moment before returning to normal.
In the glow of the bedside lamp, Edessa could see her body lying in the bed and it felt so strange to see it so still. It was disturbing to be so detached from her body, something she had only been able to do since Etienne’s visits. Edessa shuddered at that thought.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and focused on the task in hand. She knew her sister was in Syluria but how to know where? As if in answer to her question, a vortex opened in the air before her, widening more and more by the second, and drew her in.
‘The Dreamtime,’ she whispered to herself. She had no idea how she knew, but this must be what Etienne had been trying to access through her mind as he plundered her thoughts. Her ethereal body squirmed as she relived the discomfort; no amount of flowers and soothing words made it bearable.
As the Dreamtime engulfed her, she saw it in more detail. Everywhere, golden mist swirled around her and shadowy figures faded in and out of focus just like when Charlotte had found her. Edessa felt a cold wave of fear radiating through her limbs and it was as much as she could do to keep upright. She didn’t want to be trapped in this place again.
She managed to relax as she realised the shadows were oblivious to her presence. Edessa focused instead on the shining silver thread of light that grew in the darkness ahead o
f her. It pulsed with light and seemed to sense her presence. Snaking around her for a while, it eventually attached itself to the centre of her chest and she felt a sudden surge of energy explode through her body.
Follow the breadcrumb trail I guess, she thought with a wry smile and allowed the thread to pull her gently into the darkness.
The thread guided Edessa past broken half images that played fleetingly in the dark pools of the craters, which loomed out of the twilight of the pock-marked landscape. A low drone reverberated through the place, vibrating the ground beneath her feet, filling the air around her and jarring her bones. Etienne had told her the Fey lived in the Dreamtime, but there was no sign of life anywhere.
*
The landscape hadn’t changed in hours; all around was more of the same desolate flatness and grey dust rippling across the ground. The only things that had changed were the images in the pools. Perhaps these were exit points, though they looked nothing like the vortex she had entered. Edessa stopped by the nearest pool and waited, looking for any clues.
The cord tugged urgently at her chest but she ignored it, absorbed by the strange patterns that swirled through the water. The various shades of grey consolidated into the image of a bedroom where a Chinese girl with long black hair slumbered peacefully. Edessa could make out the floral pattern of the duvet and curtains in the monochrome scene. The curtains undulated in time with the breeze of the Dreamtime and a creeping darkness deepened in the corners of the room. The girl whimpered in her sleep as the shadows crept closer.
‘Wake up,’ Edessa whispered urgently, feeling powerless to help.
The cord tugged again at her chest but she couldn’t turn away from the scene below her. The girl began to moan and arched her back unnaturally as the shadows covered her, seeping into her open mouth which was fixed in a silent scream.
Edessa felt a sadness flow through her, a sense of loss that made her heart feel as if it would burst out of her chest and tears streamed down her cheeks. She thought of her own parents, lost in the desert somewhere, their lifeless bodies slowly being buried in the sands and despair froze her to the spot while the cord tugged at her in vain. Darkness poured into the room and as she began to sink. Edessa realised in horror that it was flowing from the Dreamtime, taking her with it.
Charlotte Stone and the Children of the Nymet Page 13