True North

by S.M. Winter

me goosebumps.

  “Now that you’ve learned the basics of fighting with your fists,” he said. “You need to learn how to do simple recon using your Element.”

  “Why are we whispering?” I asked.

  “Close your eyes,” he chuckled. “You’ll find out in a moment.”

  I frowned but did as he asked.

  “Your Element can tell you a lot more about your surroundings than you think,” he continued. “Start with what’s closest to you. Communicate with the Air surrounding us.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant. I huffed out a breath when nothing changed.

  “You’re thinking too hard,” he said. “Just relax, find your center.”

  “What does that mean?” I huffed. “The center of the circulatory system is the heart. The center of the pulmonary system is the lungs. You want me to focus on those?”

  “Sure,” Alexandar chuckle.

  “Ok,” I frowned.

  I took a deep breath, then another. I thought about how the air felt filling my lungs. The warmth when it left. Another deep breath and I could feel the air farther away. My eyes popped open when I suddenly heard Alexandar’s breathing as if he were directly in my ear. As soon as my concentration was gone the sound moved away.

  “Good,” he said. “Now try to expand it.”

  I closed my eyes again and centered myself. When I felt Alexandar’s breathing within me I moved past him to the clearing. The clearing was filled with breathing. From the insects that walked on the ground to the birds that lived in the trees. The wind that surrounded the island didn’t seem to reach within this clearing. Then there was something that made me stop. It was a larger beast than the other beings around the clearing. It breathed heavier and seemed to sputter like a horse. I opened my eyes and looked toward the clearing again but the lake was empty.

  “Where is it?” I whispered.

  “About ten feet that way,” he nodded his head without looking.

  “Why can’t I see it?” I frowned.

  “Because you still won’t let yourself believe,” he shrugged.

  “But I want to,” I sighed.

  “Then that’s the first step,” he smiled and touched my shoulder. “Now look again.”

  I looked toward the lake and just enjoyed the scenery. Why was I so resistant? I had accepted everything else, hadn’t I? I suppose my biggest problem was with the existence of a race that I couldn’t see. I had taken classes that had purported a separate reality that bordered on our own, a fifth dimension of sorts. How could something like that exist in reality? Even though it wasn’t logical, I wanted to see it.

  That’s when I realized that I wanted it to be real. I wanted the fantasy. I wanted this life. Then, just like someone flipped a switch, I saw movement. It was grainy at first, like the fuzzing of an old television then it popped into focus. I could see the rippling muscles of a white steed. It bowed its head and drank from the lake, snorting at the water. Slowly, more seemed to move out of the mists and in my line of vision. There had to be at least twenty. My mouth fell open and I just gaped. I must have made a noise because the one closest turned and looked right at me. The beast threw its head back and snorted, then moved toward our hiding place. I did my best not to move. As it got closer I saw something shiny protruding from the center of its forehead. It was a horn, straight and silvery, shining in the gleaming sunlight. It was a unicorn. There were unicorns that lived on the island. My eyes burned. The fantasy was real.

  The unicorn poked its head through our little window. It blew air into my face and I slowly lifted my hand. It shook its head back and forth and lipped my fingers. With a snort it turned and left. My tears fell freely. I knew now what we really fought for. Not just the lives of the people that lived on the planet below us but also for the lives that no one knew existed anymore. I shook myself and gave Alexandar a watery smile.

  “Let’s go,” I took his hand in mine. “I finally understand.”

  We all piled into the “war room”, as I had taken to calling it. Books were piled everywhere. Some lie open on top of piles, others were laid down open. There seemed to be an odd order to the chaos, almost as if one pile pointed to another. I stepped over and shimmied around so as not to disturb the organization design by a mad scientist. One pile rose so high it nearly touched the ten foot ceiling. I wondered how they’d accomplished that without a ladder, then I thought uncomfortably about a book sized version of Jenga.

  When I approached the table I could see a few books lying face up with a shimmery gold glow, indicative of the talking books. Between everything that had happened to my family, my preoccupation, with training and the journals, I’d practically forgotten about the talking books. It seemed odd that I would forget a detail as impressive as that but these were the living details of my life now. It felt as normal as forgetting about bus stops or the existence of democracy, the details that most people take for granted in their everyday lives. It was sobering that I now considered talking books an everyday norm. My life had changed so drastically in such a short amount of time.

  As we gathered around the table the room seemed to hum in anticipation. I wondered if the faeries had joined us, but as always I didn’t see any. I would see flickers of movement from the corner of my eye, but when I looked the movement would be gone. It was an eerie experience. Something occurred to me that had a shiver running down my spine. What else existed that we didn’t know about? With everything that I had found out in the last few months, what else would I learn about in the near future? A heavy sense of foreboding had me shaking away the feeling to concentrate on the task at hand.

  Valerie walked to a specific pile of books. It seemed as if she had to hop, shimmy and limbo to get there, but who was I to judge. If I’d been the one doing the research more than likely the room would look much the same. I might have catalogued the shelves and repurposed them for the task, so that the sectioned books were perfectly organized and in order of use, but that would have been the big difference. Valerie cleared her throat, breaking my compulsive thoughts. I snapped back and realized that I was just about to touch some of the books. Folding my hands I walked toward the table and away from my obsessive organizational thoughts.

  “Ok,” Valerie smiled at me. “Now that we’re all here we can get down to it.”

  “What is it?” Alexandar asked.

  “It may be more appropriate to show you something first,” Chauncy smiled.

  As soon as he picked up the sword and dropped into a fighting stance the blade burst into flames. When he stood the flames went out and it looked just like a normal sword again. Valerie held out her hand and he handed it to her. She took up the same stance as Chauncy. Instead of flames, the sword grew shards of ice. She swung it at the table which dented with a loud clang, but the ice held with minimal chipping. Then she held it out to Alexandar. With a small hesitation he took the sword and, with a deep breath, assumed the same stance as the two before him. Nothing happened. He frowned.

  Staring at the sword he shook it. Still nothing happened. Shrugging, he handed it to me. I sank into the now familiar stance and immediately all loose papers began blowing about the room. I slid fluidly out of the stance and the papers fluttered to the ground.

  “Can I see that again?” Alexandar held out his hand and I put the sword, hilt first, in his hand. There was a split second while we both touched it that voices seemed to whisper around us. I looked at him and his frown deepened, like he could hear it too.

  When he raised the sword out of my grasp the voices stopped abruptly. He sank into the ready pose again and there was still nothing. Standing, he set the sword on the table where it shined in the firelight.

  “I had a feeling it would go that way,” Valerie stated.

  “Why?” Alexandar wanted to know.

  “We found this passage in reference to the sword’s conception,” Chauncy set a glowing book down in the middle. “The reason it took us so long was that it’s in Hebrew.”

 
“Hebrew?” I asked. “Like the Torah?”

  “Exactly,” Valerie said. “So we needed a translator.”

  Chauncy set down another glowing book with a grim look.

  “You didn’t,” Alexandar looked aghast when Chauncy nodded.

  “We needed it,” Chauncy told him. “There was no way we would have been able to translate this quickly without it.”

  “I don’t understand,” I interrupted. “What did he do?”

  “I created a speaking book to translate the text for us,” Chauncy replied.

  “Why is that a problem?” I wondered.

  “Because you have to leave a part of yourself within the book to give it the necessary life to function on its own,” Alexandar was near to shouting. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you remember why Moira chose the path she did?”

  “I remember,” Chauncy said.

  “We could have gotten a translator up here!” Alexandar began pacing in the small space he had.

  “At what cost?” Chauncy asked. “We probably would have gotten that person killed. I won’t be a part of that anymore.”

  “What do you mean leave a part of yourself?” I asked.

  “A literal piece of your soul,” Alexandar said, pivoting angrily to look at me. “The thing that gives you life, that makes you, you.”

  “He’s angry because Moira had created many speaking books before she turned,” Chauncy watched Alexandar as he spoke. “And he’s afraid I will do the