TRAVELLER (Book 1 in the Brass Pendant Trilogy)

by Amanda May Bell

  “I’ll see you soon your Highness. Enjoy your morning meal,” said Morgan formally, and he grinned at me as I made a face at him. He knew I hated speeches like that, but he’d done it deliberately to please Jonah who was already complementing him for finally addressing me appropriately. He obviously wanted something from Jonah in return and it didn’t surprise me when he began negotiating with Jonah to change his afternoon schedule. They walked away from us towards their front gate and, as I headed towards my house and walked briskly towards my own front door, I didn’t notice Mirren frown and glance at Morgan before she looked at me just as suspiciously.

  I took the stairs two at a time when I was back inside my house and, if I’d taken the time to glance behind me, I would have seen Mirren watching me even more suspiciously as she folded her arms.

  It took me no time at all to add a pair of dark coloured pants, an ivory shirt, and a lightly woven jacket to my school bag. I took out a few of my heavy, paper bound books and I stashed them under my mattress before I put my leather boots into my school bag as well. I bathed and tied back my hair, and I changed into my uniform as quickly as I could, but when I ran back downstairs, Mirren took me completely by surprise. She was waiting for me at the breakfast table with a meal bowl of her own.

  I put my school bag near the front door and I managed to look at her innocently as I sat down to my bowl of steaming porridge. I picked up my shallow spoon and dipped it into my bowl…and Mirren watched me and folded her arms.

  “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I expect you to be home by set four for your weapons class. I also expect you to be careful,” she said calmly. I paused, with my spoon halfway to my mouth, and when I looked up guiltily, Mirren was looking at me directly. She looked very serious and I put my spoon down beside in my bowl.

  “I’ll be careful,” I told her truthfully, as I looked at her just as directly.

  “If you have your pendant removed; you’ll lose your partner Livia,” Mirren said carefully, and she continued to look at me very seriously. I nodded slowly and she nodded too, and we ate slowly together in companionable silence for a while. When I was almost done with my meal, Mirren looked up from her bowl and spoke again.

  “While you were upstairs, Jonah requested that Morgan join your weapons class this afternoon. I trust this will be enough incentive for both of you to be home on time,” she said, and she didn’t sound as serious now. I looked at her and she smiled.

  “Thank you for the meal Mirren and I wish you a good day,” I said, as I stood up from the table, and I smiled too because Mirren was already taking my bowl from my hands and ushering me impatiently towards the front door……

  Morgan was already waiting for me when I opened my gate and, as I fell into step beside him, he asked me if I’d changed my mind, or if I still wanted to travel today. I nodded slowly and he looked pleased.

  “Where is this rising marker exactly?” I asked him.

  “It’s in a toy store,” said Morgan, as we walked briskly down the street. My steps faltered.

  “Please tell me you’re joking,” I said, but he didn’t look like he was joking. He was looking at me very seriously.

  “Don’t worry. I was taken home through this marker last week. The store won’t be too busy on a weekday morning and, if we’re careful, we won’t be spotted,” he said, and he definitely wasn’t joking. I looked at him doubtfully as we turned into the main street.

  “Does the store have security?” I asked him, and Morgan shook his head.

  “Not in that area of the store, so no one will see us leave,” he said confidently. No one would hear us either because the roaring sound was only heard by the traveller themselves. The cold temperature and the air patterns would be felt by anyone who happened to be around us when we exited though. There were cold temperatures and air patterns upon entry as well, and we’d have no way of knowing if anyone was around to see us when we returned. Time travel wasn’t the type of thing you did in the middle of a Synthetic Era toy store if you could help it. No wonder this marker was rarely used. I glanced at Morgan again but he was obviously confident about using the marker.

  “Alright, what are we doing today in the Nomadic Era?” I asked him.

  “I haven’t been to this marker for many turns, but the last time I was there…..”

  “Wait; you haven’t been to this marker for many turns? Are you sure you remember the settings correctly?” I asked him, as I frowned.

  “I never forget settings. I can tell you the settings for every single marker I’ve ever been through. I can’t explain it. Once I hear a setting, that’s it; it’s in here for good,” he said confidently, as he tapped his head with his finger. I stared at him and shook my head. What was I doing? I sighed.

  “Okay, what’s at your marker?” I asked him reluctantly, and he grinned at my use of Synthetic Era language.

  “The most exciting race you’ll ever be privileged to witness,” he said grandly, and his grin faded a little. “It used to be held on this day every turn, so hopefully, the tradition has continued,” he added, as we approached the stairs to the underground train station. I didn’t even look to see if the old man was sitting there this morning.

  “What kind of race is it?” I asked Morgan, but he refused to tell me anything else and he insisted it couldn’t be explained. He said, I’d just have to wait and see it for myself.

  We walked steadily across the public courtyard towards the concrete steps.

  “When we get to the bottom of these stairs we’re turning left, not right, and we’ll have to run,” he said quietly, and his tone was serious again. “Hopefully, the guards behind us will assume we’re already inside the school gate when they reach the bottom of the stairs. That’s the only place they can see all the way to the school,” he said, and I nodded as we ran down the stairs.

  I ran beside Morgan as he ran to his left and we passed a coffee shop, a hairdressing salon and a clothing store before Morgan turned suddenly into a narrow alleyway that ran between the shops. We stopped running once we were safely in the alleyway and we both glanced behind us, but none of my guards appeared. Morgan turned to me as we walked towards what looked like a dead end.

  “Those stairs are a blind spot, and if your security was properly managed they’d have a guard walk ahead of you and wait at the bottom until you were safely down,” he said. I smiled.

  “Obviously, I need you to manage my security seeing as you’re such an expert at avoiding it,” I said dryly, and he grinned as he opened a door to his right at the end of the alleyway and walked calmly through a café kitchen.

  “Just passing through,” he said cheerfully to the ladies making sandwiches, and they shook their heads at us and muttered to each other before they told us we should be in school. Morgan pushed open a set of double doors before we walked between the café tables and headed out onto the street in front of the shop.

  It wasn’t far to the toy store and Morgan had been right…..it wasn’t busy. The store was large with lots of wide aisles, and it was filled with hundreds of toys of all kinds. There were action figures, and replica cars, and there were brightly coloured bicycles standing beside each other in rows. Whole shelves were filled with stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes, and almost everything was made of some kind of plastic, before being encased in more plastic.

  A mother was gazing intently at some boxes of plastic construction blocks and, as we passed by her, she called out absently to her young child who was running up and down the aisle.

  “Henry, remember what mummy said. If you can’t behave, you won’t get a treat after we finish here,” she called, but she didn’t look up as she picked up another box of blocks from the shelf and turned it over. We turned into another aisle and this one was deserted. There were jigsaw puzzles in this aisle and their cardboard boxes were sealed in more plastic. There were plastic dolls in this aisle too and they had oversized eyes and frightening faces. I frowned. The dolls were wearing very strange clothe
s.

  Morgan loosened his school tie so he could pull his pendant from beneath his shirt and I glanced around me before I pulled my pendant out from under my school blouse too. There was no one around and I couldn’t hear the mother, or her child, anymore.

  “Don’t forget to add the number of turns since you were there, onto the year,” I said, and Morgan rolled his eyes and reminded me he wasn’t exactly new to time travel. He’d been in quest training for the last six turns too. I shrugged and looked at him without apology. I was just being cautious.

  “It’s Scorpius 5131 set 76º,” he said, as he began to turn the dials on his pendant.

  “Scorpius 5131 set 76º,” I repeated, and he nodded as I lined the Scorpius constellation up with the marking for 76º. I then turned my pendant over before I carefully set the year. I didn’t have to add 7000 to the year at this marker because we were heading to a year which was almost two thousand turns before the birth of Christ.

  We stood in the middle of a Synthetic Era toy store, surrounded by boxes of synthetic toys, and, slowly at first, the air patterns began to move around us. I glanced at Morgan and he smiled and reached for my hand. I hardly felt the temperature drop then and I barely noticed the toy boxes shaking slightly on the shelves beside me. I was only aware of Morgan’s fingers clasped around mine.

  I did notice the little boy though. He’d disobeyed his mother and run away from her again and, just after the temperature dropped, he appeared right in front of us. As the air around us roared suddenly, Morgan touched two fingers to his brow and he grinned as he signalled to the little boy in the manner of questers. The little boys eyes widened just before the toy store disappeared……and, somewhere beneath the radiating, excruciating pain, I could still feel the touch of Morgan’s hand holding mine……..

  We stood on a bare patch of dusty ground and, as the dust settled with the disappearance of the air patterns, Morgan let go of my hand. I turned around. The sky above us was cloudless and light blue, and the sun was still low in the sky but it was very bright. I squinted in its glare and I could see bare, desert mountains on the horizon. Gravel and yellow rock surrounded our marker here and we appeared to be high above a desert plain. To my right, the area we stood on dropped away sharply and, in the distance, below us, I could just see a flat, hazy unforgiving stretch of grey sand and dirt. The rocky outcrop we stood on continued to each side of us, and above us too and, here and there, a few stunted bushes grew where shallow basins of dirt had collected over time. Morgan put his school bag in the shade of a rock and took off his blazer.

  “We have to change our clothes before we can head into the township,” he said, in the old language.

  “Here?” I said awkwardly, as Morgan took off his school tie and started to unbutton his shirt. He grinned.

  “You can change here if you want to. I certainly won’t complain….or you can use the Royal bathroom you’ll find behind those bushes,” he said, as he nodded towards a group of short trees growing above us to our left. I pressed my lips together and, very deliberately, turned my back on his laughter as I climbed up the rocks towards a small patch of stunted trees. Their thin gnarled branches didn’t afford me much privacy and I changed very quickly into my home clothes before I folded my uniform and packed it next to my paper books in my Synthetic Era bag.

  When I climbed back down the rocks, Morgan was standing on the rocks which bordered the flat area and he was looking down over the edge. He looked pleased when he turned around.

  “There’s a crowd on the road below us and I can see flags and banners in the distance. It must be race day,” he said cheerfully, and he took my school bag from me and pushed it, along with his own bag, into a gap between two outcrops of dusty, yellow rock. “Come on,” he said eagerly, and I followed him as he climbed along the rocky cliff before climbing steadily downwards.

  We followed a path of sorts. Nature had formed these rocky outcrops with layers and levels and the rocks themselves were like giant, oversized steps. They were smooth, and easy to walk on after being weathered by the fierce, desert winds over time.

  Soon, we could see the road below us and it was cut into the rocks. A steady stream of people followed it towards a township which was built into the side of a rocky hill. I could see the township at the end of this ridge and it was wrapped around a rounded peak. I could see the banners and flags now too, and they waved from square windows cut into yellow rock houses that looked like they’d been cut into the hilltop itself. The town rose steeply in layers, following the natural terraces around the hill, and I could see domed rooftops, and many steep steps, as well as grey, wooden shutters and doors.

  Some of the people below us wore similar clothing to our own, although their jackets were made from textiles which were coarse and roughly woven. Others, wore robes, and some wore earth toned cloth wrapped around their heads and faces to protect themselves from the dust and glare. I could hear their chattering voices now and some walked beside small pack animals and others walked with bundles or babies tied to their backs or their chests. People of all generations walked together as did groups of excitable youths. Everyone on the road had dark hair and dark eyes and a few glanced up at me as the sun hit my hair and highlighted my auburn stands. Morgan jumped down from our rocky path onto the road and I followed him as he walked quickly through the crowd. We passed a desert mule and it was laden with baskets of hand dyed cloth. A young woman walked beside it and she wore a short tunic and leather sandals which were tied all the way up her calf. Her hair a paler shade of brown than the others on the road and, when she glanced at me, her eyes were a dusky blue. Children ran past us and their bare feet left footprints in the fine dust that covered the road. One of the children stopped and stared wide eyed at my hair. Morgan stopped suddenly too and he turned to me.

  “Here, you’d better wear this,” he said, and he held a folded piece of woven cloth in his hand which looked suspiciously like it had come from the baskets of the mule we’d just passed. I didn’t say anything, but he grinned as he wound the cloth expertly around my hair. He tied the scarf at the nape of my neck before leaving the ends to fall down my back.

  More people joined the crowd where another path met ours and, as the crowd thickened, the excitement level around us rose as well. When we entered the town itself, Morgan took my hand in his so we didn’t become separated as people jostled noisily against us. The road was lined with stalls now as the townsfolk took the opportunity to display and sell their wares. I saw stalls selling course, woven cloth and carved, rock figurines, and I caught a glimpse of some exquisite, coloured glass. I could smell fried meat, and fried cheese, and wide eyed local children pulled at my jacket and held out their cupped hands. I shook my head at them apologetically. I had nothing to give them today. Voices were all around me and they spoke in one of the most widespread eastern languages of the early Nomadic Era. When Morgan spoke to me, he had to speak loudly to be heard and he used the same language as those around us.

  “They have race fever,” he said, and he rolled his eyes as he gestured to the overexcited people around us.

  “Tell me who’s racing now,” I said, and I used the local language now too as we walked up some stone steps. We left the stalls behind us and, when the crowd thinned we were able to hear each other more clearly.

  “You’ll see who’s racing as soon as we get high enough,” said Morgan, and he pointed up to the dwellings I could see at the top of the steps. People were sitting on the rooftops, and on steps and walls. We climbed past houses and their windows and balconies were covered in cloth to keep out the dust. There were less people around us here than there had been around the stalls but Morgan kept hold of my hand. We kept climbing through the town and soon some of the people who sat on walls and rooftops were not far above us. We were about a third of the way up the hill and, at the top of the next flight of stone steps, we reached a gate in a thick, rock wall. The gate was closed firmly and Morgan let go of my hand and used the carved wooden patte
rn in the gate to climb up to the top of the wall. I followed him and, when he reached down to help me up, he grinned and pointed below him to the other side of the wall.

  I looked down at a wide, deserted road. The houses that lined it had boards placed over their windows and doors, and every inch of the road had been swept clean. People sat on the roof tops of the houses across the road from us too.

  “This is the race track. This town was built all the way around this rocky hill top, and this wide road runs right through the middle of town, so it makes a loop around the hill. Anywhere along this road should give us a good view of the race, but it’d be best to be over that way, so we can see the start and the finish line which are one and the same,” Morgan said excitedly, and I grinned at him.

  “What?” he asked me.

  “You have race fever,” I said. He shook his head but he couldn’t stop his smile.

  “You’ll have it soon too,” he said confidently, and he reached for my hand again before we hurried along the top of the wall towards the finish line.

  Soon, we could see a brightly coloured banner strung over the top of the road. Many people were clustered on the roof tops around this banner and I got my first glimpse of the racers as we climbed out onto a rooftop that joined the end of the wall.

  The racers were not what I’d expected at all and I stared at them in surprise.

  Below me, five gleaming, horseless chariots hovered half the height of a man above the surface of the road. The air shimmered slightly beneath them and they all had the same shiny, metal frames. The chariots were long and thin, and they came to a blunt point at the front. Towards the back, there was a hole, big enough for a man to sit in, and, behind this hole, there were three waxed, fabric coated wings set at an angle. The whole craft looked remarkably like a Synthetic Era dart, except it was big enough for somebody to ride in.

  “The chariots are usually used to haul heavy carts of water across the dessert,” said Morgan, as we sat down on the sloping roof top. “They’re self-propelled and, unlike animals, they don’t require rest so their advantage is obvious. When they haul a load, they’re fairly easy to control because their speed is kept in check and their flight is steadied by the load. Without their load though, they have two speeds only, and that’s lightning fast, or not moving at all, and they can be hard to manage because they roll easily. They’re difficult to steer without a load too and they’re known to break apart on impact. When they race eighteen laps around this hill, I doubt there’ll be five off them left at the end of the race,” said Morgan excitedly, and he definitely had race fever. I smiled as I glanced at him.