As she crashed face-forward into the gravel, a squeal tore the air, the sound running through her flesh and bones.
“Don’t move.” The boy hovered beside her as quickly as he had disappeared above her head.
Maray waited for the metal to reappear at her neck.
“Are you hurt?” asked the stranger, as if asking whether she liked the color blue. As if it didn’t mean anything to him.
Maray picked herself up from the ground, and as she lifted her hand to pull gravel out of her scarf, the sword was at her throat in an instant.
“Didn’t I say, ‘Don’t move’?”
Maray held her hands up to indicate she wasn’t going to try anything.
“No, I am not hurt,” she lied, biting back the pain in her jaw. She was sure it was bruised. She tasted blood on her lip as she spoke and spat out a piece of gravel. “What was that?” she asked, feeling trapped. Whatever it was that the stranger had executed behind her, she wasn’t able to turn around and look.
“Maray Johnson,” he said, ignoring her question, and stepped around her so she could see him.
“So, you did hear me earlier,” she commented in a surge of defiance.
“Thanks for caring enough to check my vitals,” he said, ignoring her words again. Somehow he didn’t sound grateful.
“I didn’t check them.” Maray pursed her lips as the boy eyed her closely.
“You didn’t have to,” he countered.
There was something about the way he held up his sword that gave away the idea that he wasn’t going to use it on her.
“So, if you aren’t going to kill me,” said Maray, “why don’t you tell me what you want?”
As he measured her face from up close, she didn’t dare look him in the eye, but she could smell his scent: blood and sweat and leather. For a long moment he studied her, then his hand grabbed her chin—not rough, but like a judge appraising a horse or a sheep. Her eyes snapped towards his as she pulled her face out of his grasp.
“You look like an exact copy of her,” he murmured, and there was hatred in his voice, well-concealed behind an indifferent expression, but it was there.
“Who are you talking about?”
Maray tried to focus. This hadn’t been an accident. She hadn’t stumbled upon him—them—by mere bad luck. This stranger had been searching for her. She could tell by the look in his eyes. He despised her, and it cost him all the effort he could bear to take down his sword and let it disappear into a belt at his side.
The clicking sound of the cross-guard hitting the sheath brought instant relief.
Maray was scared, but not petrified. The way he kept staring… Something wasn’t right—besides the obviousness of a swordsman in contemporary Vienna and whatever that squealing, furry thing was he had slaughtered behind her.
“Identify yourself,” he demanded, not releasing her gaze.
Maray didn’t know what he wanted. She had told her name. Hadn’t that been enough?
“Now.” His hand, still tight around the hold of the sword, moved an inch up. He was going to pull it out again if she didn’t react; she was aware of that.
“Maray Johnson,” she repeated, caving under his glare.
His shoulders squared, tensing for a fight. It would take him less than a second to draw the sword. She had seen how fast he’d moved before; too fast for human eyes.
“That’s impossible.” The stranger shook his head. “You look the same, and yet you are so much younger.”
The hostility in his gaze was slowly replaced by a look that reminded her of her father when he was trying to crack a really difficult Sudoku. She took it as a sign the imminent danger was over.
“What was that behind me?” she asked and turned slowly, not knowing what to expect.
The stranger didn’t stop her.
The first thing she saw was dark fur. Massive amounts of dark fur. She blinked as if to clear her vision.
She pointed at the dead, animal-like shape before her feet, unable to take her eyes off of it, and unable to verbalize her shock.
“Thank you for saving my life?” The stranger suggested and stepped to her side, observing her with interest as she stared at the head of the beast.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, overcoming the initial shock. “This is not a wolf,” she noted, observing the razor-sharp teeth and the heavy paws, “or a bear. It’s a little bit of both.”
The stranger nodded beside her.
“It’s a Yutu,” he informed her, gesturing at the furry mountain.
Even if the situation hadn’t been surreal the way it was, Maray wouldn’t have known what to say. The huge wolf-bear in front of her would have been intimidating enough without the sword sticking out of its forehead. Blood was trickling down its grey-brown head into its muzzle.
“If I ran, would I stand a chance?” Maray wondered aloud and looked at the stranger.
The wound on his cheek had almost healed. So had the cuts on his chest and his arm. How was that possible?
He shook his head, his caramel hair freeing itself from behind his ears. “I wouldn’t try if I were you.”
She glanced at the Yutu and back at him.
“I’ve been tracking it for days,” he said and kicked its massive paw with his foot. “It almost got you.”
Maray didn’t fail to notice that the coldness was leaving his voice a little bit more with every word he spoke.
“You’ve been tracking it for days?” Maray prompted. “Do those run around a lot in Austrian parks?” She was going for sarcasm, but all she got from the stranger was a look of disappointment.
“For a moment, I thought you were one of us.”
Maray shoved her hands in her pockets, protecting her fingers from the icy wind. Why did he keep evading her questions?
“You know, it would help if you actually told me what you’re talking about,” she suggested, hoping that she’d get him to talk if she provoked him. What was the worst that could happen? That he’d draw his sword again?
The stranger shrugged, not touched in the slightest. “You wouldn’t believe me. He snapped his fingers, and the wolf-bear was swallowed in fog.
“What just happened?” Maray stared into the dissolving haze; the same that she had seen when the two boys had appeared.
“I sent it back,” he said as if what he had just done was the most normal thing in the world.
“Back to where?” Maray tried to keep track of what was happening, but it was almost as if every question she asked triggered a new one.
Hands grabbed her so suddenly that she almost shrieked. They were his, and he leaned toward her, so close she was forced to look directly at his face. Underneath the grime and blood, there were sharp angles. Dark eyebrows perfectly arched across his bright-blue eyes. They were narrowed as if he was struggling.
“Look,” he said after a moment of peering into her eyes with an intensity that let her guess that whatever he was about to say was something he wouldn’t normally share. “I would kill you if it weren’t for my oath to the crown.”
Maray considered interjecting a comment about the Austrian monarchy being part of history, that they were a republic now, but she held her tongue, remembering how fast the boy had speared the wolf-bear—Yutu.
“Unfortunately for you, you look so much like the queen regent—” he didn’t sound affectionate, “—that I have no other option than to take you with me.”
That didn’t sound good. Besides the fact that she still didn’t know what he was talking about, now he also was considering abducting her.
She dropped the plan to provoke the stranger into answers. It wasn’t working. What would her father do? He was a diplomat, trained to negotiate his way through life. He would find a way out of this.
Maray took a slow step back, lowering her shoulders so she would appear more confident, and raised her chin.
“I am glad you are taking your oath that seriously,” she complimented him, appealing to his honor. “It would help m
e to understand why you would have to take me with you—and where that would be.”
Not bad for a first attempt, she thought. But the boy didn’t seem to think so. His face darkened, and he grabbed the hilt of his sword again.
“You don’t only look like her; you are trying to manipulate me just like her.”
“I’m not trying to manipulate you,” Maray defended. “I am trying to understand what’s going on.” Maybe honesty was the better way. “I have never seen a wolf-bear—Yutu—whatever you call it, and I have no idea who you are. You just killed a monster, threatened me with a sword; you fought someone who has disappeared into thin air—” she referred to the second boy, “—and now you are threatening to kidnap me.”
The summary sounded worse spoken aloud than it had in her mind, and as the boy saw how Maray was trying to handle the situation, he seemed to feel a surge of compassion.
“Jemin,” he plainly said as if expecting her to understand.
Maray frowned in frustration.
“Jemin,” he repeated and waited a moment for her to comprehend that he was introducing himself.
“I would say, ‘pleasure to meet you,’” she said coldly, “but it’s not.”
“I can assure you, the feeling is mutual.”
The wind blew Maray’s dark pony tail into her face, making her reach up and tuck it back where it belonged. Jemin watched her as if his life depended on it, but the grip on his sword loosened.
“So…” Maray put her hands back into the warmth of her pockets. “Is it safe to ask questions, or are you going to attack me?”
Jemin featured an unamused smile and shrugged. “Do what you need to do,” he said indifferently, “but don’t be surprised if you don’t get what you want.”
Maray copied his smile and looked around. The tunnel was still a tourist-free zone, and the early twilight of November was settling in over the city.
“Where is the other boy?” It probably wasn’t the most pressing question, but it was one of the many she had.
“Back where he belongs,” Jemin said with the same indifference as before. Only, it was increasingly difficult to notice the slight changes underneath the surface of his expression.
“Where exactly is that?” Maray wanted to know, and this time, she was ready for an answer.
Jemin opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, raising his finger to his lips while his other hand silently drew the sword, eyes gesturing to their left.
Maray turned to search for what he was seeing there, but all she could see was a wall of wood and half-dead leaves. She was about to open her mouth and ask what was wrong when fog rose from the ground under the bushes, making it difficult for her to see anything.
“Come with me,” Jemin whispered, suddenly close beside her ear, and grabbed her hand. “This place isn’t safe any longer.”
At his touch, Maray felt a sting in her skin, almost as if holding an electric cable with low voltage. It was hard to tell what was more uncomfortable—the sense of danger or the sudden sense of safety—as he pulled her along behind him.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, ignoring the feeling, and tried to keep up with Jemin as he led her further into the darkening tunnel.
The purplish-blue of the sky had turned a dark shade of grey, and what little daylight was left quickly faded behind clouds and fog.
One moment, everything around her was bright white as if her head was stuck in a cotton ball; the next, she was in the exact same spot she’d been before she’d entered the fog, looking at the same gnarly, trimmed branches, stepping on the same dusty gravel, and feeling the same icy wind.
Jemin stopped abruptly, making her crush into his back.
“Sorry,” she muttered, wondering what material it was he was wearing. It looked heavy and sturdy but was smooth and light to the touch. She felt the hard muscles in his shoulders as she pushed herself away from him.
He turned around and tapped his fingers impatiently to the hilt of his sword as she straightened out her clothes. Her jacket had caught some of the grime from Jemin’s coat-like armor, and she was wondering if it was on her face too when his hands shot up, catching her hood and pulling it over her head, covering her face so she could hardly see his from under the seam.
“If you don’t mind,” he said as if that was explanation enough when Maray reached up herself, trying to remove it. “I don’t want anyone to see your face.”
“Well, that’s hurtful,” she noted, still struggling to pull down the hood and losing against the iron grip of his fingers which were pulling the other direction. “Am I really that hideous?” She tilted her head back, giving in to his wish, and exposing her pale, freckled face as she glanced up at him, earning a look from his bright eyes that was hard to identify. It wasn’t the hateful vibe she’d gotten before, but it wasn’t friendly either. Cautious might have been a good word to describe it, but there was a hint of amusement in the corners of his lips that made her want to ask what he was thinking.
“So, where is that place you’re taking me where it’s supposedly safe?” she asked instead and glanced around, gesturing at the unchanged surroundings. “We haven’t gotten very far, have we?”
Jemin’s fingers detached from her hood, and his face changed back to the alert expression he’d worn before they had stepped into the fog. “We’re already here,” he said and grabbed her hand again, pulling her along.
“What do you mean, ‘here’?” His words didn’t make sense. They were walking down the same tunnel as before. Nothing had changed.
“Welcome to Allinan,” he said in a voice that told her he wasn’t exactly thrilled they were there—wherever ‘there’ was.
As Maray struggled to keep up, the settling darkness was broken by orange lights ahead where the branches ended.
“Wait—what?” She had one of those moments where it was hard to walk and think at the same time.
“Allinan,” he repeated and slowed down just enough for her to fall into step beside him, but his hand remained uncomfortably tight around hers. “The other Vienna.”
She noticed his eyes on her as he led her forward, closer to the light. “What do you mean, ‘the other Vienna’?”
“We just travelled to a different dimension.”
Maray stopped in her tracks, almost ripping her arm off as Jemin continued forward. Was he serious?
“You took me to another dimension?” she barked at him. Besides the obvious—that this couldn’t be real—she felt like tearing one of those gnarly branches off the nearest bush and hitting Jemin over the head with it.
“Get over it,” he said dryly and set her in motion again with a harsh tug on her hand. “Looking how you look and having seen the Yutu—” he shot her a look that reminded her of those first words; that he’d kill her if it wasn’t for his oath to the crown, “—and me, you don’t get the luxury of being surprised.” His grasp tightened as if to make a point. “If anyone is to feel surprised, it should be me.”
Maray found it difficult to follow his thought-process. Less than an hour ago, she hadn’t even known there was something called a Yutu, or that people could heal from deadly injuries within minutes, or that there were alternate dimensions—at least one…if she believed Jemin. She quietly looked up at him, catching up beside him again, and tried to make out the scar of the former gash on his cheek. Something was terribly wrong. Either she was going crazy, or there was an entire reality she had never heard about.
“Keep your head down,” Jemin instructed as they stepped out of the tunnel and into the torch-lit yard of the castle; the same castle Maray had avoided because of the masses of tourists which had been wading toward the entrance earlier today. The scene she found now was an entirely different one. People, dressed similarly to Jemin, were walking back and forth along the pale-yellow castle walls. The signs that pointed to the ticket office and gift shop were gone. Lights shone behind lace curtains in high, arched windows, silhouettes moving behind them. “And don’t speak
to anyone.”
Maray nodded, unsure if he’d notice under her hood. If there were more of those wolf-bears around or people of Jemin’s fighting skills, it would be wise to stick to his orders, no matter how tempting it was to bolt and pretend all of this had never happened.
As they entered the brighter parts of the yard, he let go of her hand. “Stay by my side,” he warned in a murmur. “If you get seen by the wrong people, there is no way you’re ever leaving this plane alive.”
“And I thought you brought us somewhere safe,” Maray sneered but obediently kept pace with him. If he was right and she wasn’t going crazy, defying his instructions would be about as smart as stepping onto train-tracks.
“I never said it would be safe for you,” Jemin corrected coldly.
Had she before felt strangely safe with him? What was wrong with her? She knew nothing about the boy—except that he had saved her life. Whether that had been by chance or purposeful was something she had yet to find out. For a moment, she felt the deep urge calling within her to bolt, just run back to the apartment, but if what he said was true, there would be nothing to run to.
Maray shrank closer to Jemin as a man in official-looking clothes approached them near the archway that led from the main building to less ostentatious quarters on the side.
“Report,” the man prompted, stopping so close to them Maray could hear his nervous breathing.
She couldn’t see his face, but the polished gleam of his boots gave away that the man had spent his day indoors. A couple of steps on the gravel, and they would have looked like her sneakers or Jemin’s boots, covered by a thin layer of filth and earth.
She wondered if the man took any notice of how different she looked compared to everyone else. Besides her jacket, which was a neutral grey, and shoes, her jeans and red scarf would stand out in the strange fashion of Allinan.
Beside her, Jemin straightened and cleared his throat. “Commander Scott, Sir,” he chanted. “Reporting, Yutu tracked down and eliminated in Sector 13.” He moved slightly away from Maray as if to act like she wasn’t there. “Yutu remains returned to Master Feris. Heck Brendal portaled back to Allinan about—” he lifted his arm, “— fifty minutes ago. Report end, Sir.”
Two Worlds of Provenance Page 2