by M. L. Greye
By now he was panting and beginning to sweat. He decided to rest for a moment to calm his racing heart. Grasping onto the side of the bed for support, Dagon glanced down at himself for the first time. He was startled to find himself all in white and barefoot.
He wore a pair of loose trousers, tied with a drawstring at his waist, and a short-sleeved tunic tucked into them. It irritated him to see his left sleeve empty. His niece, the Key’s heir, and Sazx would one day account for the arm they stole.
The rustling of sheets pulled Dagon’s head up again. The noise came from just beyond his curtains. There had been no approaching footsteps, so it must have been the boy awakening in his bed. The noise reminded Dagon of his resolve to escape. After another deep breath, Dagon gingerly released his weight onto his feet for the first time since receiving the injury to his thigh. He wobbled, but his grip on the bed steadied him. When his stance was sure, he pulled back the curtains, revealing a bland room.
The walls, like the ceiling and floor, were white. Across from him was the boy’s bed, encircled by the same white curtains around Dagon’s. No other furniture appeared to be in the room – just the two beds. Strange sporadic rectangles of light, protruding from the ceiling, were the only means of illumination. Dagon would have liked to inspect them further, but he had other priorities.
Even though the ropes from his arm to the boxes were still in tact, a quick glance told him that his leash would extend enough for him to reach the boy’s bed. Once again moving slowly, Dagon took his first step away from his bed. He continued across the short distance, pausing to rest with each stride. The ropes were nearly taunt by the time he slid open the boy’s curtains.
A young, fair face with honey brown eyes peered up at Dagon groggily. A Wend’s eyes. What was a Wend doing in Zeedyr? Up until this point, Dagon had thought his niece and nephew to be the last of the Wends. He’d destroyed so many of them in Caprith, sentencing them to the Dark. To find a Wend here was highly implausible. Excluding, his niece and nephew, Wends were supposedly an extinct breed.
The boy wasn’t really a boy, after all. He was either on the verge of adulthood or he had just entered it. His short, light brown hair clung to his forehead, damp with perspiration. “Who’re you?” The boy slurred in Saerdian.
Dagon noticed he was bound both ankle and wrist by thick black straps. Unsure if the Wend could speak Eveon, since he had chosen to use Saerdian, Dagon answered him in kind. “I am a prisoner here, same as you. What’s your name?”
“A prisoner?” His brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. I thought we’re in a hospital.”
Dagon had not heard of a hospital before. The Wend could still be delirious, but Dagon did not have time to wait for him to regain his wits. Releasing a sigh, Dagon inspected the Wend’s bonds. He had to admit that he had never seen its likeness.
“It’s Velcro,” the Wend told him. “Just pull at the strap, and it’ll come apart.”
Perhaps he wasn’t as delusional as Dagon had thought. He did as instructed and the Wend’s wrist was set free. His leash only permitted him enough rope for the one wrist though. Before Dagon needed to ask the Wend to finish the work he’d started, the Wend was already unfastening his other wrist, followed by his feet.
Next, the Wend turned his attention to the cords in his left arm, identical to Dagon’s. He first yanked off the clasp around his middle finger. The rope in his forearm took a little longer to remove and seemed to cause the Wend pain. He grimaced as he released himself.
“I’m sure whoever it is that’s got us here is monitoring my vitals closely,” he told Dagon. “We’ve got about a minute before they come to find out what’s going on. Want me to take out your IV, too?”
Dagon assumed the Wend was referring to the ropes and extended his arm. “Please.”
He felt the skin on his arm pull as the Wend dealt with the IV, and understood why he’d flinched earlier. The discomfort was brief, though. Once the boy was done, he jumped to the floor beside Dagon.
“Do you know the way out of here?” He asked.
“I do not,” Dagon admitted.
“Then I guess we’ll start with the door.” The Wend stepped around his bed.
Dagon followed but did not get far. He came up short behind the Wend. Just past the bed was an open doorway. However, it was filled with four large men, reminding Dagon of the thick thugs the Kendren brothers would keep as their personal guards.
“What I’d give for a bow right now,” the Wend muttered in Eveon. Dagon glanced over in surprise. So he could speak the tongue of the Eves. His accent held a hint of a Saerd who had learned the language later on in life. The indication was so slight though that Dagon doubted a native Eve would even notice.
“Nobody move until the boss gets here,” a gruff voice barked out in Saerdian. Dagon recognized the voice from earlier. Now he was able to match the face of the stocky figure in front of the other men to it. He held some sort of black contraption in his hand, pointed at Dagon and the Wend. A Velvitor weapon perhaps?
“Wend, what are your gifts?” Dagon asked in Eveon, his voice low. If his gifts were beneficial then now would be the time to use them.
He whirled, clearly stunned. “You can speak Eveon?” He paused, his mind gnawing over some internal struggle. “How did you know I’m a Wend?”
Dagon frowned, wondering why he would be so surprised. Eveon was not that uncommon and the brown eyes were the sign of a Wend. Dagon decided there was not sufficient time to press the topic further. “Do you have any gifts that could be advantageous in our escape?”
“Our escape,” he repeated to himself. “Just one. My sister taught it to me.”
An odd reference, but Dagon only nodded once. He was beginning to feel light-headed again. He would need to lean on the Wend soon. “What gift is it?”
“You don’t look so good,” the Wend said in Saerdian, startling Dagon by the observation.
Dagon replied in Saerdian, “I have seen better days.”
“Maybe you should sit.”
Without removing his eyes from Dagon, the Wend extended his right hand toward the door. A loud screech filled the area beyond the door. The four men spun around.
: : : : :
Will rubbed at his eyes with his hands. He was on the couch beside Olinia, who had yet to wake up. Her feet were resting on his lap.
This was not even close to the scenario he’d planned to find when he returned to Ethon for Olinia and her brother. He felt like a fool for imagining the Other Worlders safe in Ethon. The Ethon he’d been raised in seemed to be an alternate reality than the one he’d returned to – it looked unbelievably different now.
Gifted Ethons. If he were to omit the months abroad in the Other Worlds from his life, the idea of discovering super-powered teenagers and college students, led by half-animal Velvitors, was staggering. What had happened to his simple world? Ethon was supposed to be made up of people with normal human abilities, not with multiple breeds like the Other Worlds. In Will’s mind, to keep himself sane, he’d always thought of Ethon as a realm of reality and the Other Worlds as that of fantasy. Now what was he to think? The two realms were starting to resemble each other more and more.
“You look distressed.”
Will glanced up as his great-grandfather took a seat in the family room’s only stuffed chair. “Do I?”
Trenton Alridge nodded his head toward the kitchen table where Hillary and Zedgry sat in front of Olinia’s MacBook. Will turned. Hillary had her hands over the keyboard, but she wasn’t typing or really looking at the black screen. By appearance alone, Hillary appeared to be in a complete daze with Zedgry staring intensely at her face. Will wondered if Zedgry was trying to get into Hillary’s mind.
“I’m sure Legann’s friend will find him,” Trenton said. “There’s no need to worry.”
“That’s not really what I was thinking about.” Will reverted his gaze to his great-grandfather. “It’s interesting that Hillary is even helping us. She
and Legann fought publicly at their school just a few days ago. They hardly know each other.”
“Do you think she may be in league with DS?” Trenton asked. “Perhaps she was sent to gain your trust before leading you to your doom.”
Will smiled slightly. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
“Not at all.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m simply suggesting a possible outcome.”
“I don’t think she wants to betray us.”
“Neither do I,” his great-grandfather replied in his crisp accent. “I believe she feels a little guilty for Legann’s capture, and a part of her may fancy the boy.”
“I think so, too.” Will watched Olinia breathe for a moment.
“You’ve got yourself quite a faery, lad.”
Will grunted. “She’s not mine yet. She’s still hurt over the year and a half I left her here in Ethon. She doesn’t trust me anymore.”
Trenton Alridge offered a bright smile. “Don’t worry, lad. You’ll win her over again.”
“How did you win over Tyra from Dagon?” Will asked. “Maybe I can use your technique.”
The smile faded and his eyes took on a distant look. Will almost thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said, “Through persistence. Astounding things can come from not giving up easily.”
Will placed a hand on Olinia’s ankle and brushed his thumb over the smooth skin under her jeans, feeling once again the tingling sensation he was slowly becoming used to. He remembered the first time he’d kissed her, that day was so long ago for her but only a couple of weeks for him. The night with the fireflies he’d tasted her lips for the second time, but her Globing had robbed him of the full experience he’d wanted. Since his return, he’d told her he loved her, but she had yet to admit she loved him. He knew she did. She couldn’t hide her emotions from him, no matter how hard she tried.
He regretted not kissing her sooner. Back in the Other Worlds, he never should have told her he didn’t want to have any attachments. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to hurt her or himself when it came time for him to return to his realm.
He grimaced, wondering if Trenton had had a similar situation. “Grandpa, when you first met Tyra, did you push her away because you knew you eventually had to come back to Ethon?”
The old man blinked. “I never intended on returning to Ethon.”
“I’ve found them,” Hillary called out.
“You have?” Will peered over his shoulder to her and Zedgry.
She nodded, the distant look still on her face. “Tiara is en route to the California labs, and Legann is being detained here in Virginia.” She lifted her hands from the keyboard and placed them in her lap. “What now?”
“When you say ‘en route’ do you mean by car, plane, or train?” Will asked.
“Plane,” she answered. “DS has a private jet.”
“What time did it depart?”
“A little over an hour ago.”
Will ran a hand through his hair. “So, we’ve got a few hours before we can do anything about Tiara.” He glanced at Zedgry. “I say we go for your brother tonight.”
Zedgry grinned out the side of his mouth. “I think a little action will do me some good.”
“Lad,” Trenton’s voice pulled Will’s head around, “I think I’ll return home tonight.”
That surprised him. “Why? Grandpa, you don’t ha-”
His great-grandfather held up his hand, cutting him off. “I know my woods contain some sort of portal. I wouldn’t want to leave Milly alone with another Other Worlder new to this world, should one arrive. I think she’s already too suspicious as it is.”
This decision didn’t make Will happy. There were still some questions he had about Tyra that he wanted answered. He frowned. “When did you decide to leave?”
“Oh, I had the return flight scheduled before I even left London,” he replied. “I only came as an escort to Zedgry.”
Will nodded once, dropping his gaze to Olinia for a moment before returning his attention to her twin. “So, how do we go about getting Legann?”
Zedgry blinked. “Since when did I become in charge of this?”
“You’re High Royalty,” Will reminded him. “Don’t you outrank me?”
“Aren’t we in Ethon though?” Zedgry grunted. “Last I’d heard, I hold no jurisdiction over an Ethon.”
Hillary’s eyes shifted between the two of them. She appeared to be thoroughly confused again. Will’s retort died on his tongue. He lowered his eyebrows. “What’s wrong, Hillary?”
She hesitated, as if not sure she really wanted to continue. “What are you talking about? What is this ‘Ethon’ you keep bringing up?”
Zedgry cocked his head to the side. The gesture seemed like something Olinia would do, not him. “Yes, Will. Why don’t you define the word Ethon?”
Will snorted. “Me? I wasn’t the one to come up with that name.”
“Very well.” Zedgry turned to Hillary. “You are an Ethon, as is Will. Ethon is the name my realm has given your world. My siblings and I aren’t from your world. We come from the Other Worlds.”
“The Other Worlds,” she repeated. “Do you think I’m stupid? You’re not an alien.”
Alien wasn’t a word Will would use to describe an Other Worlder, but in the basic sense of the word it was true. “Yeah, they actually are. I’ve been to the Other Worlds. It’s nothing like here.”
“But that means Legann…” she let her voice trail off.
“Isn’t from our planet either,” Will finished for her. “He’s what we’d call a prince to his world of Caprith.”
“A prince?” She gawked.
“Well, we call ourselves Lantzes. Only the crown heir is a prince, or a princess, as in Olinia’s case,” Zedgry remarked. “But that’s not really important right now. We need to know how we can get to Legann.”
Hillary reached out her hand, touching Zedgry’s face with her fingertips. “But you can’t be an alien. You look human. Are you wearing some sort of bodysuit?”
Olinia’s twin looked to Will for help. He grinned. “No, that’s Zedge’s real face, sadly. Apparently Earth isn’t the only world inhabited by humans.”
“How’d they get here?” Hillary asked Will, as if Zedgry, who still had her hand over his face, wasn’t even there.
“Through a portal,” Will answered.
Zedgry must have decided he was done with having his face explored. With one hand, he removed her fingers and lowered them into her lap.
“Can you think of where exactly in DS Legann could be being held?” Will asked.
Hillary shook her head slowly. “I don’t think-” she stopped. Then, “Wait. I could pull up security footage. I haven’t been in all the rooms of the plantation so I don’t really know where he could be.”
“Plantation?” Will raised an eyebrow.
“That’s what we students call the school,” she replied as her hands passed over the keyboard again. “DS restored an old plantation house to be its school. It has a prestigious feel to it that parents seem to love.”
Zedgry reclined in his seat. “So, you accept us not being from Ethon?”
“Do you mean Earth?” Hillary’s eyes took on the glazed look once more. “Because that’s the planet I’m from.”
Will couldn’t help but smile at her response. He sat down beside Olinia again and realized with a start that she was awake, watching his great-grandfather, who had dozed off in his chair. “Olinia,” Will said softly.
She turned. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About an hour.” He knelt on the floor in front of her and kissed her forehead. “Do you feel better?”
“I’ve got the footage,” Hillary informed Will. “Want to take a look?”
“Yeah, be right there.” He stood and extended his hand to help Olinia to her feet. “Care to join me?”
She smiled and let him pull her up. “Thanks.”
“Ohreen doveem naunt!” Zedgry exclaimed.
Will blinked, startled by the exchange. “What’s going on?”
Olinia nearly flew around the couch to the table. She gripped onto the backs of Hillary and Zedgry’s chairs, leaning down toward the laptop screen. “When was this filmed?”
Apparently Will wasn’t the only one surprised. Hillary stared up at Olinia. “This is a live feed.”
Will joined the group at the table and peered down at the screen. The recording was in black and white. Two figures stood facing the camera and a small group of rough-cut men. One of the figures was Legann and the other was a one-armed man with a face that made Will’s jaw drop. “Is that Dagon?”
Hillary’s gaze darted between the three of them. “Who’s Dagon?”
“Our uncle,” Olinia and Zedgry answered.
: : : : :
The guards turned just as the black-leathered office chair from a desk Legann had glimpsed in the outer hallway came crashing into the room. Legann knew the chair wouldn’t knock over the men – his gift wasn’t strong enough for that – but it could distract them long enough for him and his new friend to bolt.
As planned, the men split apart, dodging the chair. Legann, still very much aware of the handgun one of them held, reached out his hand. The black pistol yanked free and flew to Legann through the air by his unseen force. For once, Legann appreciated all those weekend practice sessions with his sister.
“Get back!” He shouted, aiming his new weapon at the guards.
They didn’t move. They just stood frozen in place, gaping. Legann doubted the pistol was what stunned them. He realized too late that he had broken Trenton’s number one rule in Ethon. Never show your gifts to a native. Legann mentally kicked himself. He’d somewhat unconsciously used his gifts. Under the pressure of a potential fight, he evidently slipped into his old ways of relying on instincts. The Ethons definitely noticed his bizarre abilities. The chair blasting through the door could have possibly been mistaken for a mere coincidence, but the stealing of the gun was a blatant violation to Trenton’s regulation.