by S McPherson
‘Or we continue to fight,’ Brixen booms above the chatter that has begun to grow. ‘We know about their spray of poison now, so next time we can be better prepared.’
Lexovia gapes at them. Are they so easily giving up on their original plan? No other suggestion sounds any better. She looks from them to Vladimir but he is still gazing down at the table, as though a part of it. He does not move when someone nudges him to show their agreement, or laugh when others do.
‘Hey!’ Lexovia snaps, stunned when everybody quietens and turns to her. ‘Tranzuta wrote an entire book: Practicing Portals and the Gethamot,’ she points out. ‘Are you telling me there’s nothing, not one scrap of information on the gethadrox?’
‘When Tranzuta found a way to live out a lifelong dream of traveling worlds, writing was not high on his to-do list,’ Brixen notes scathingly.
‘Yes, but he couldn’t remember every detail, every attempt. He would have written it down, surely?’
‘But where?’ Brixen cries, verging on hysteria.
‘Tranzuta was a Teltreporthi, wasn’t he?’ Lexovia snaps.
Vladimir finally looks up and nods.
‘So maybe his things are still in his home in Taratesia. Has anyone been there since we were exiled?’
Many of the Court members look away, avoiding her eye, aimlessly shuffling their feet, and Brixen simply folds his arms across his chest.
‘I’ll take that as a “No” then, shall I?’ Lexovia looks at Vladimir; he’s smiling and she smiles back. Then returning to the others, she adds, ‘So, before we all go running for the hills, let’s first search every nook and cranny of Tranzuta’s home, then decide what to do about the Exlathars.’
POSSIBILITIES
The Court lead the way as they march from Melaxous into Taratesia. The rough grains of sand crunching underfoot swiftly change to limp blades of grass and the deeper they trek the longer and stronger the strands become, their dull green colour morphing into one so bright it glistens. The Courts Guard follow close behind, the Dizby champions flying overhead.
It feels strange being out in broad daylight, the sun high in the lilac sky, the occasional trelion bird swooping past. Each squawk pinches the nerves. Lexovia glances back at Howard who gives her a reassuring nod. Her initial confidence in her plan is starting to fade, remembering what happened the last time they crossed the border from Melaxous, and clearly Howard can tell.
Lexovia lifts her chin. For Coldivor. She tells herself and continues to push her way through the reaching grass where any number of unknown creatures could be lurking.
Then something catches her eye in the distance: extravagantly tall trees, trunks twisted as if braided together. They have large, red and opal leaves that droop half way down to the ground and bushels of fruit of various colours and sizes hang from their tawny branches.
‘Telathrodon,’ Lexovia acknowledges, her pulse increasing of its own free will. She tries to steady it, unblinking as she eyes the trees.
‘How do you know?’ Howard whispers back.
‘This is where I was the night the Vildacruz found out about me.’ Lexovia avoids his gaze, ‘I remember the trees.’
Clearly wary of touching on the subject, Howard only nods.
Collin sails beside them, confidently balanced, as if more than a narrow stick held him aloft. ‘We’ve reached Telathrodon,’ he states, his voice gruff. ‘The Court will go in first and we’ll go when we get the signal.’
Lexovia and Howard nod, both finding it unnecessary for Collin to explain the procedure. They have done this enough times.
‘I think he has a crush on you,’ Howard snorts as Collin swoops away.
‘Very funny,’ and Lexovia glares back at him.
‘You’re right.’ Howard clears his throat, puffing out his chest. ‘He probably has a crush on me.’
Lexovia shakes her head. ‘You think everyone has a crush on you,’ and Howard smiles; such an endearing smile that she can’t help but return it.
Taking advantage of the lull, those around them stretch, practice spells and prepare themselves for a possible battle.
They wait in silent anticipation, listening out for the expected screams of the Court as they are ambushed by hidden Exlathars. But none come and soon Collin and the others are whizzing forward at the signal to advance.
The Courts Guard follow, leaving the welcome cover of the tall grass and entering an open area of Old Telathrodon. As in Melaxous, there is no great wall around it, guarded only by an invisible shield long since destroyed.
Unable to help themselves, everyone stops in wonder. For many it is their first time in Old Telathrodon, and for others it has been almost two decades since they were last here. They gaze about at the grassy fields, the radiant flowers of various colours, blooming and re-blooming in quick succession; shades of gold, of orange and blue and rose popping up all around them. The occasional cobbled path winds through this greenery, rust coloured and uneven, leading to the doors of a large number of deserted huts, some barred by wooden planks as though to keep something out. Some have doors that hang slack from their hinges, ominously creaking in the slightest breeze.
The enormous braided trees now seem more prominent up-close as they proudly flank the perimeter, towering over everything.
Recovering quickly, the Court’s Guard head down a path that leads to a mass of emerald up ahead: the Court.
‘This is it,’ Vladimir states once they reach him. He stands outside a large hut constructed of cracked olive-coloured logs, its dark brown door busted from its hinges, the same coloured shutters hanging at the windows. The ridged roof is thatched, though sunken with time, and a thick layer of dust covers the house like a blanket. Lexovia studies Vladimir. For the first time since she’s known him, he seems apprehensive, as do the entire Court.
‘Right.’ Taking a quick breath, Vladimir pushes back his shoulders. ‘Search everywhere; search for anything,’ and finally he steps inside, pushing a gossamer, peach substance from his path: a coliguns web. Everyone follows him in. The room is dark, but Baxter soon pulls open the shutters, welcoming the daylight.
They waste no time, all eager to see the home of the great Tranzuta, though first appearances show it to be fairly ordinary. A shabby couch rests in the centre of the room, a circle of tree stumps over which a shredded sheet has been thrown acting as a coffee table. Behind the couch is a large wooden table covered in papers and outdated newspapers, where most of the Court now begin their search. Others scour the rest of the room, whilst others still charge into a poky kitchen, ransacking cupboards and the like. Lexovia, Howard and a few of the more Fuertés decide to check the bedroom.
Amethyst squeals when she opens its wardrobe and a collection of metal and glass falls out in front of her. It’s a mess of springs, thin glass circles—like that found in the gethamot, broken bits of silver and other bits and bobs, but after searching through it all, they realise it is nothing more than a pile of junk. While Amethyst continues to dig further into the wardrobe, Howard rummages in the drawers of a dressing table whilst Lexovia joins those searching under the bed.
After what feels like forever, they all finally reconvene in the living room. The sun is setting now and it is hard to make out what everyone is carrying, though no one looks particularly excited.
‘This was a waste of time,’ Brixen growls, sounding distinctly disappointed.
‘No one found anything?’ Vladimir asks.
‘Nothing useful,’ Lexovia sighs when everyone shakes their head in agreement.
‘How is that possible?’
‘It must have been Michelle,’ Baxter suggests.
‘Michelle?’ Lexovia asks.
‘Tranzuta’s daughter. Her mother was Corporeal, and after spending a few years with her bumbling father, she decided to move to England to be with her mother.’
‘A halfy,’ Lexovia realises. Being made of both worlds, they are free to live in either.
Baxter nods. ‘They would often visit each other. Sometime
s she would come here, or him there, but when Tranzuta vanished, Michelle packed up many of his belongings and left. We haven’t seen her since.’
‘So…if there is anything on the gethadrox—’
‘She most likely has it.’
‘Had it,’ Brixen amends. ‘Michelle was born a very long time ago. I daresay she has passed on by now.’
Everyone in the room seems to retreat, as though they had subconsciously stepped forward in hope.
I practically fall out of bed when I hear the tinkle of the crystal ball. It’s astonishingly late. Groggily, I stumble to my feet. I’m not sure why I don’t keep the device by my bed. Then again, I didn’t expect to be summoned at this time of night.
Hastily, I scramble over the settee and grab my work bag from the floor. It is heavy, weighed down by the ball, but I barely notice. Dragging out the orb, I wave my hand over it. Instantly, Milo’s face appears. Goosebumps erupt all over me and a stab of longing and hope cuts through me.
‘Hello sweetheart,’ he practically serenades, ‘how are you this evening?’
I melt like butter on a hot stove. ‘Better now.’ I grin.
He gazes at me for a while and I bask in it, buzzing all over as though my body has never known sleep. His endearing and shocking blue eyes delve into me.
‘God you’re beautiful.’ He breathes.
‘Even with sleep goo in my eyes’ I smile. ‘Oh, just a minute,’ I gasp and jump up, propping the crystal ball on the coffee table before rushing over to the bed to retrieve my nightly reading material: Tranzuta’s journal.
‘Where’d you go?’ I hear him call as I make my way back.
I flip to the appropriate page as I settle onto the settee and hold the journal up for him to see. I slowly move it back and forth, aware of how much easier it is to video-chat, being able to see what the other person sees in a tiny square in the corner. Unfortunately, this orb doesn’t have that feature.
‘Hold still’ he snorts and I do. Then a long silence follows, so long I’m not sure if he’s still there. I slide the book to one side and see him sitting there, gobsmacked. He looks paler than usual, his eyes more vibrant and blinking more than necessary.
‘Did you read it?’ I ask.
‘I-I’m not sure.’ He screws up his face. ‘I’m not sure I read what I think I read.’
I turn the book towards me and read out, ‘Michél Tranzuta. Operation: Gethadrox.’ I look back at him, expectantly, but once again he is wide-eyed and motionless.
‘Get stuffed!’ he finally gasps, ‘Is it real?’
‘Yes,’ I assure him. ‘Imogen got a job in a little shop full of hidden wonders and’ I wave the book at him, ‘what do you know?’
A baffled smile stretches his face. ‘Tranzuta’s actual journal?’ he asks, animated. It’s no surprise that Tranzuta—a young Teltreporthi inventor—is something of an idol for Milo.
‘Yes.’ I enthuse.
‘Show me.’ I can almost picture him bouncing on the spot, and wish I could see more than just his head, though it’s definitely better than nothing.
I turn to another page: the one I have been trying to make sense of, the one with the sixth diagram of the gethamot and the word ‘Vedark’ beside it. I hold it up.
‘Bloody hell,’ he breathes in wonder. I flip to another page. I don’t know what it says, but it is similar to all the others.
Milo is silent for a while, then says, ‘What do you think he was writing?’
Putting the book gently down on my lap, I purse my lips, ‘I think he was listing off different realms.’ I thumb through the first few pages again, ‘Coldivor, Corporeal Land which I assume is here, Vedark, which is the original home of the Vildacruz.’
‘How many times has he done this?’
‘Nine’ I don’t need to rifle through the sketches to remember that one. ‘He calls them “The Nynthst”.’
‘Nine realms.’
I say nothing, allowing the information to sink in. It still stuns me. ‘What else?’ he urges.
‘I haven’t been able to make sense of much else.’ I turn to a page after the diagrams end. ‘This all appears to be random.’ I read from it: ‘Seventy per cent, h20, arrows pointing in different directions, the words “Large body”.’
‘Let’s have a look.’
I turn the book to Milo. ‘Hmm. How many arrows is that?’
I count. ‘Nine.’
‘Nine arrows, nine dimensions in a world he calls “The Nynthst”.’ His forehead crinkles. ‘Knowing Tranzuta, this page is anything but random.’
‘Any ideas?’
He studies it for a moment then shakes his head. ‘I need to get a better look, and so should the Court.’
‘I agree.’ I say with an excited jolt. I study the journal, wondering if it will hold together when placed in a photocopier. I want the Court to get this information as much as anyone, but I don’t want to be completely cut out of the loop, not again.
A loud clash from his side causes us both to jump and I hurriedly shove the book under a sofa cushion—not like it would be visible through the orb, anyway. Milo leaps to his feet and turns his back on me. I strain to see around him, then recognise the voice.
‘Here you are!’ Lexovia cries. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’
‘Lexovia?’ I register Milo’s feet walking away as he rushes to her. ‘Good to see you mate!’
‘I’ve been trying to find you for ages,’ she grumbles. ‘You can’t just sneak out after curfew.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Milo gasps.
‘I snuck out after curfew.’ I can practically hear the laughter in Lexovia’s tone. ‘I had to get out of there… Who were you talking to?’
Milo hesitates, no doubt fumbling for a lie, but Lexovia is too quick and sends him flying out of her way, if the flick of her hand and the orange sparks are anything to go by.
‘Ow!’ I hear Milo yell, and then I see her, her amber eyes like burning coal peering at me with curiosity.
‘Dezaray?’ she gapes.
I wave sheepishly. ‘Hi, Lexovia.’
‘What is this?’ and she scoops up the ball, studying it from all angles, giving me a panoramic if somewhat erratic view. I notice Milo clambering off the floor and dusting himself off.
‘I made it,’ he announces, offhand.
Lexovia’s eyes widen as she gawks from me to Milo. ‘You made this?’ she cries. ‘A way to communicate with other realms without mindle? And I can see her,’ she shrieks.
Milo shrugs, indifferent, and I shun his humility.
‘He’s going to be the next Tranzuta,’ I say proudly, and a hint of a smile crosses his lips.
‘Tranzuta never made anything like this,’ Lexovia murmurs in awe. ‘Milo, this is the sort of thing we need.’
‘We?’ Milo queries as he saunters over and reclaims his invention. He sits down, resting me beside him so I can see his head and Lexovia’s leg.
‘Coldivor,’ Lexovia insists, sitting beside him. ‘We are desperately trying to find a way to get to other realms, and this,’ she thrusts her hand at the sphere, ‘is pretty close.’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘Show it to the Court.’
‘So, they can find out I’ve been talking to Dezaray and hang me by my bootstraps?’
‘Milo,’ Lexovia shakes her head, ‘if you help save the empires, save the realms, the Court won’t give a toss about who your girlfriend is.’
My stomach flips childishly as his eyes pass mine. We have never referred to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. Issues of title have never come up—I sense him shift—until now.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he murmurs.
‘I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate,’ then she addresses us both: ‘We even went to Tranzuta’s home in Taratesia today, hoping to find some information, but,’ she shrugs, ‘it looks like his daughter took everything.’
‘His daughter?’ I ask.
‘Michelle Tranz
uta.’
‘Didn’t she leave,’ Milo says, then turns to me, his eyes saying so much more than his mouth, ‘and go to Islon?’
I suck in my breath.
Lexovia sighs. ‘No one knows where she went, but yes, she started in Islon. Brixen thinks she’s probably dead by now.’
‘What do you think?’ I ask.
‘Doesn’t matter; even if she is alive, your world is massive and she could literally be anywhere.’ Lexovia gets to her feet and once again I can only make out the side of her leg. ‘Just think about it. Whatever method you used to make this, could put us on the right track.’
‘I will.’ Milo agrees.
‘I need to get back before they realise I’m missing. Hurry home.’ I hear her coo, ‘the Guards will be doing their check soon. Nice seeing you both.’ then with a clash, she is gone.
Milo turns to me.
‘Michelle Tranzuta,’ I barely breathe.
‘I forgot all about her, but Lexovia’s right, no one knows where she is, or even if she’s alive.’
‘Leave that to me,’ I say, and he raises an inquisitive brow, ‘there is a great magic in my realm that can be used for this sort of thing.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘We call it “The internet”.’
LEAP OF LOVE
I can barely concentrate at work the next day. I keep watching the clock as it ticks away the hours, each click of the hand seeming louder than the one before. For once I am eager to take my lunch break so I can hop onto the office computer and search for the infamous Michelle Tranzuta.
I’d tried to find her on my laptop last night but had infuriatingly and repeatedly been met with a ‘Site blocked’ message irrespective of which search engine I used. Exasperated, I finally rang Jude.
‘I am trying to search for a few incantations to practice,’ I lied.
‘You can’t use a purely Corporeal computer for stuff like that,’ he practically guffawed. ‘The ones down here have been tweaked to include all those forbidden little gems they try to hide from us Up-Top.’
And I knew I had to get on Mr Picklesby’s computer. I may not be able to fight in this revolution against the Exlathars but I can certainly help fuel the fire.