At Water's Edge_An Epic Fantasy

by S McPherson

  My anxiety doesn’t waiver as we head towards ‘Fishy Chippy’ later that day. Through the window I can see Howard and Yvane at the counter, placing our orders and chatting away. Will they be so happy when they hear about Milo and me?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Milo asks. Am I that obvious?

  ‘Nothing,’ I squeak and am rewarded with a disbelieving side glance. ‘It’s them,’ I confess.

  ‘Howard and Yvane?’

  I grimace.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Not them-them, us-them.’ I squirm. ‘What are they going to think?’

  Milo turns to me, halting our steps. ‘It doesn’t matter what they think.’ I go to argue but he stops me with a look. My entire body shudders in response; an odd mix of pleasure and fear. Milo clasps my hand in his and continues towards the end of the alley. I take a deep breath and hope he’s right. It’s one thing to be a fool in love (or whatever this is), behind closed doors. It’s quite another to parade that love down the streets of Devirum.

  A bell chimes as we enter the shop and Howard and Yvane turn to greet us. Their smiles falter when they notice our entwined fingers.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ Milo beams, oblivious to or choosing to ignore their looks.

  Momentarily stunned, Howard is first to collect himself. ‘Merry Christmas!’ he booms, embracing Milo in a brotherly hug before gifting me the same.

  ‘Merry Christmas.’ I politely hug him back and Yvane courteously joins in.

  ‘Orders up,’ announces Smitty from behind the counter. ‘Have a nice day, you lot.’ We leave ‘Fishy Chippy’ and make our way over to a couple of stone benches in Devirum’s town square; a small area surrounded by a plethora of waist-high trees with pointed blue leaves. There are even more shops here and a small café with tinted windows and jazz music playing through its outdoor speakers. It’s a chilly day but the sun is out so we finally agree to brave the outdoors, cradling our food for warmth.

  ‘So…’ Yvane begins once we sit down, ‘when did this happen?’

  She says the word ‘this’ as if it were something bitter on her tongue.

  ‘And what exactly has happened?’ Alarm fills Howard’s eyes.

  ‘Not much…yet.’ Milo regards me with a raised brow, his voice turned to honey. The slash of his smile carves into my skin and I burn where his eyes explore. My stomach tightens, pulse quickens and I have to turn away. Curse my crimson cheeks.

  ‘Not much?’ Howard splutters.

  ‘And when did this “not much” happen?’ Yvane struggles to keep her voice tempered as she rounds on me. ‘You do realise you’re supposed to be Lexovia.’

  I’m stung. ‘I realise.’

  ‘If people suspect you aren’t her, the four of us will be in a lot of trouble. Not to mention the very safety of the realm will be at risk. This isn’t a game,’ she insists.

  ‘No. It’s not,’ Milo growls.

  I’m taken aback by his sudden switch, his calm demeanour making way for that darkness I sense below. His tone is like ice; hard and brittle. He’s stopped eating and simply stares at Yvane, his foot propped up on the bench, using his knee as an armrest.

  Yvane stares back and for a moment they appear to be having a silent conversation. If I knew them better, I could probably guess at their thoughts, but the truth is, I don’t know them, I barely know myself.

  Finally, Yvane sighs. ‘Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t enjoy yourselves but, you do understand that this can’t last?’

  And here comes what I was most afraid of: the speech making real mine and Milo’s inevitable end. I wish I could drown her out, that my newfound affection was enough to render her speechless as it does me, but it’s not. I know she’s about to say the words I least want to hear and brace myself for their sharp slap.

  ‘The portal reopens in four days,’ she states and I feel my heart flutter, a pounding in my ears, ‘and we have to fix this. Dezaray has to return to Islon in four days. That’s it. Is it really worth risking all our lives for four days?’

  And there it is; the cruel sting of the after-slap. Wet takes a seat in the brim of my eyes, ache swells in the well-known crevices of my chest; squeezing my lungs, rising in my throat. I try to eat but now everything tastes bland. Instead, I take a hefty mouthful of peppermint pop and pray no one notices my turmoil.

  I don’t speak on our walk home, the words repeating themselves, rolling over and over in my mind. Four days! In four days, all thoughts and traces of me will be erased. In four days, I’ll be gone.

  ‘You okay?’ Milo asks.

  I nod, staring straight ahead as I march on. Of course, I’m fine. I’m always fine. All good things come to an end. I learnt that long ago.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he observes. I can feel his eyes on me but continue to gaze fixedly into the distance. He quickens his pace to keep up. I quicken mine.

  ‘Stop,’ he says. I venture on.

  ‘Stop!’ he demands, running into my path. I easily manoeuvre around him, my eyes glued to the ground. I just need to make it to Telathrodon. As soon as I’m there, I’ll return to Lexovia’s hut and lose myself in tormented sleep. I just need to make it there.

  Keeping my head low and stuffing my hands in my pockets, I continue my brisk march. Then he’s there again, in front me, gripping my shoulders. I gasp in surprise. Looking back, I notice the trail of blue he’s left behind. Cheat! I gulp, reminded of the day we raced; the day I unwittingly accepted that I was falling for him.

  ‘Oh, get off!’ and I yank myself away with more fervour than I intend, ‘who are we kidding? We may as well stop now.’

  ‘What?’ Milo exclaims, remaining in my path, preventing me from passing. ‘What are you talking about?’

  I shake my head. Nothing seems worth it anymore, including this argument.

  ‘Four days,’ I shrug. ‘I guess that says it all.’ I push past him and this time he lets me go.

  ‘Do you honestly feel that way?’ The pain resonates in his tone and stops me in my tracks. I can’t bring myself to turn around but know he’s there. I hear the gentle thud of his steps as he makes his way towards me until at last he’s right behind me.

  ‘Do you really think you’ll leave and that will be it between us?’

  I remain still, the heat from his body reaching out to my own. His hand grazes mine; my fingers twitch for his touch. I hear the words in his breath as he stammers to voice them.

  ‘I-I…’ he breathes heavily, ‘I won’t let you go.’

  I use my sleeve to wipe my tearing eyes. ‘I have to.’ I’m surprised he hears me; my voice seems barely audible.

  He slowly slithers an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. The touch of him is excruciating bliss and I rest my head back on his shoulder.

  ‘Even when you’re far away, you’ll always be close to me,’ he murmurs into my hair. ‘In my skin, in my head...’

  Then there’s something inside my own head; a faint sound, the murmur of a man’s voice.

  ‘Can…hear…’ the voice, Milo’s voice, asks.

  My eyes, which I didn’t realise had shut, now spring open. ‘What’s that?’

  Milo’s mouth doesn’t move but I hear him again. ‘Mindle.’

  ‘Mindle?’

  ‘A way for us to communicate without being in the same place, the same realm.’ He begins to explain more but it’s hard to make out, like he’s speaking through water.

  ‘It’s too distorted.’ I sigh, resigned, and start to walk away.

  ‘Dezaray,’ he calls, ‘is this any easier for you? Pushing me away now rather than saying a proper goodbye then?’

  My entire body trembles, my steps slowing, but once again I don’t turn around. If I see him, my fight is lost; my one shred of sense will dissolve and I’ll be right back on top of that mountain, preparing to fall into nothing.

  ‘It’s too hard,’ I whisper, wiping my nose unattractively on my sleeve, ‘four days…’ Four days! What were we thinking?

  I
barely notice him come up beside me this time, nor feel him gripping my shoulders and turning me to face him.

  ‘Exactly. Four more days for us to be together,’ he says. ‘Time with you is far better spent than time without you.’ Using his thumb, he wipes the tears from my cheeks then slowly draws me into his chest. ‘Don’t give up on us.’

  It’s like an iron vice has clamped around my heart as I squeeze him back. Four days! This morning I felt we were untouchable. Evidently, time can still reach us.

  IN LOVE, IN WAR

  I groan at my reflection in Lexovia’s bathroom mirror. My eyes are still puffy from a night’s cry even though I woke up ages ago – well, I barely slept – and I now feel as if I’m carrying an anvil in my stomach.

  I exhale heavily. I’m supposed to be meeting him soon. But I’m not ready. Although, even without our looming end, I doubt I could ever be ready to see him, to be near him. Every time I am, I feel like an amateur: clumsy and experiencing everything for the first time. I doubt I’ll ever understand this chemistry that brewed so fast between us, though sometimes I can’t help feeling as though Milo understands it. As if he locks away the answers of us in that cloak of steel he seems to carry.

  Pinching my cheeks, I fight the urge to climb back into bed. I can’t hide from him forever, especially since our forever is only a few fleeting days. I run a comb through my hair and play around with an array of up-do styles, eventually settling for it just hanging around my face.

  ‘You’re good at this, Dezaray,’ I tell myself with a pointed stare. Trundling on in the face of misery is certainly my forte. I bare my teeth and stretch my eyes. Much better. Like my mum always said, ‘Fake it until you make it.’

  It isn’t long before my sadness takes residence in the back of my mind. After only a few short moments with Milo, my steps are lighter, my fear quelled and my smile real.

  When I step outside Lexovia’s hut, he’s waiting with a picnic basket slung over his arm, the cool breeze rippling his hair. He grins, clasping my hand and takes me back to Aulock Peak; the place where auras shine. He brings us to a lower mountain top this time which is thankfully wider than the last one. He doesn’t pull out the Aulock serum either, but has me stand whilst he lays a plastic mat out in the snow, covering it with a furry blanket.

  Then, assembling a pile of twigs, he murmurs, ‘Iginassa!’ and his eyes momentarily shine blue, a mist falling from them onto the sticks and immediately a fire is born. I pull my hat further over my ears and hurriedly sit beside the growing flames as Milo feeds it planks of wood. I wonder what else he has concealed in that basket.

  Following my lead, Milo sits but behind me, cradling me in his legs, his arms wrapped around my middle. He scoops up my hands and idly strokes my knuckles. I close my eyes, memorising the touch of his fingertips, the feel of his firm body behind me, shielded in layers of fabric, and I focus on the point of his chin pressing into my temple as I lean my head back to rest on him. At last we’re feeling toasty, despite the winter cold.

  Opening my eyes, I drink in the view. It’s more glorious than I could imagine. The sun is beginning to set and its orange beams stretch across the wine-coloured sky, fighting to curve all the way around the world.

  ‘Ready to eat?’ Milo murmurs, his breath warming my ear. I shake my head. My stomach probes for food but its inaudible pleas are no match for the orchestra of emotion swelling in me as I rest in his arms, never wanting to be anywhere else.

  ‘I’ve heard there’s a way we can stay like this.’ I muse. ‘A way I can stay here, in Coldivor.’

  I feel Milo’s gaze on me. ‘How?’

  ‘A pair of necklaces.’ My mind wanders as I try to remember what Imogen had said they were called.

  ‘The Provolian Pair,’ Milo finishes.

  I glance up at him. ‘That’s the one.’

  He sighs, ‘If only it were that simple,’ and presses his lips to my forehead. ‘Those necklaces are practically myths. We’d have to find them first.’

  ‘I bet we could do it,’ I say decidedly, needing some comfort, a whisper of possibility that this might not be the end for us. ‘Let’s find them.’

  ‘Okay.’ He nods, just the once; ‘Let’s find them.’

  I smile, unsure if he’s just humouring me but relieved all the same, ‘Maybe the library has some information on them.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Milo agrees, but he’s quiet; too quiet.

  I look at him, hoping he’ll play along. ‘We could find them,’ I say.

  He half smiles down at me. ‘We won’t stop looking until we do.’

  As the sun declines, so does the temperature and we begin to shiver from the cold. Milo vigorously rubs my arms, blows in his hands and warms my lips with his own. Eventually, though, we admit defeat.

  ‘I should have brought a tent.’ He grimaces as we roll up the blankets.

  ‘Next time.’ I half smile. We both know there won’t be a next time.

  Milo squeezes my hand like he knows what I’m thinking. Sometimes I wonder if he is actually using mindle on me. I must remember to ask him one day when I’m not freezing and famished.

  We decide to go to Devirum for a quick bite to eat after discovering the sandwiches he made are almost frozen. Once we’re packed up, I slip into his arms for him to whisk us away.

  We go to one of the restaurants in the town square. It’s quite nice and is playing upbeat songs in a language I don’t understand. Milo tells me it’s Coldivian, a dialect no longer used except in spells.

  I order something called Egrees Vree. It looks a bit like a blue omelette and has green leaves sprinkled on it. It doesn’t taste like an omelette, though. It’s thick, chewy and tastes more like a type of meat. In any case, it’s delicious and I wolf it down in a matter of minutes.

  ‘Ready to go home?’ Milo asks once we’ve left the restaurant. Yawning, I nod and smack my lips together, as I cradle my hands in the crease of his elbow and we stroll out under the archway of Devirum, heading back towards Telathrodon.

  It happens so fast my mind takes a few seconds to register what’s happening. Why is Milo hurtling into the rough bark of a tree and who’s eyes are frozen on me?

  ‘No!’ Milo yells as he charges at the eyes. I blink. Milo and a warlock are now tumbling across the ground, disturbing the gravel and ice. Another warlock then pounces into the mix. Milo struggles as they pummel him in the face and chest.

  My heart constricts. I long to rush to him but four other creatures – three warlocks and a vampire – stand expectantly around me. One move and I’m dead.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ I scream viciously.

  The warlock nearest me snickers, his pinched face somehow managing to crumple more as he does. ‘“Leave him alone”,’ he mocks my girlish plea and those around him murmur and jeer in response. My eyes shift desperately to Milo; he’s managed to get one of the beasts off him and is striking the other repeatedly wherever his fists make contact, his muscles bulging.

  ‘If I was ever in doubt, which I wasn’t,’ the warlock states, ‘that you weren’t Lexovia, I’d be certain of it now.’

  I stiffen but don’t respond.

  ‘The others told me to let you go,’ he sneers. ‘Told me you were a nobody looking for a thrill on our ship, but there was something too familiar about you.’ He takes a step towards me and I instinctively take one back, only bringing me nearer his ally. ‘Then it hit me, I’d seen you before, protected by the Court. The Court got to me you see, before I got to you. They didn’t think I saw, but I did and I always remembered your face – the face of the last Elentrice.’ Stepping further still, he inhales deeply through his nostrils. ‘Only, you’re not her. I smell Corporeal blood in you.’

  There’s too many of them. They have Milo’s arms pinned behind his back though he doesn’t stop struggling and I’m surrounded. There’s a wider gap between two of the creatures and without thinking I barrel towards it. It closes in a second, their jagged teeth snarling at me.

  I turn to
run the other way, but they close that gap as easily too. The space around me is now considerably smaller than it just was. The main warlock cackles, ‘Did you really think that was useful?’ I look around. He’s right. I’m trapped, merely buying myself a few more seconds. My heart bangs against my chest, my eyes wide.

  A loud noise causes me to shriek and I realise Milo has teleported. There’s no clash to say where he’s gone but he’s taken the two beasts with him. My eyes dart fiercely about. I’m alone, unarmed and powerless. Dread consumes me. One of me and four of Drake. I blink. They aren’t Drake, I know they aren’t, but for some reason my mind has transformed each of their crushed faces into his.

  Before I can make another pitiful dash for it the main warlock lunges at me. I kick and thrash as he tackles me to the ground, pinning me under his weight. He yanks aside the collar of my sweater, wrenches a silver dagger from behind his back, and plunges it into my shoulder. I scream.

  He inhales once more. ‘I haven’t smelt a Corporeal in years.’ He gnashes his teeth and I flinch.

  ‘Get off me!’ I roar.

  ‘I could,’ and he nods, conversationally, ‘but you’re the last Elentrice’s counterpart. I can’t be letting you go.’ He leans in close enough for me to taste his sour breath at the back of my throat. ‘I’m going to send your decapitated corpse to the Court as a taste of things to come.’

  Out of nowhere, a soiled cloth is stuffed into my mouth to muffle my cries as I writhe and squirm. It’s wet and taste like pickled salt.

  ‘Hix, use this,’ calls one of his comrades, and for an instant Hix is distracted by his partner offering a large, razor-sharp toothed weapon, to rip me apart with. Terror steals my thoughts and my body reacts on impulse. I twist and contort, snatching one hand free from under him and grab the blade of his knife. It slices me as I rip it from his grip and ram it into his thigh.