by Logan Joss
Trevor felt a little relieved that at least Freya was on his side.
But the boy, for whatever reason, was not going to let it go. ‘Well, he’s lying about something. You could at least use real places rather than those ridiculous made-up ones. How do you expect us to believe you? Or anyone else for that matter?’ He pushed out his chest, his face awash with satisfaction.
‘But I am telling the truth. Like I said, I don’t know how I got here, but…but…this is not the same world that I left.’
This was met with a short burst of laughter.
Trevor was furious at being judged by this boy who didn’t know the first thing about him and, as far as Trevor was concerned, had no right judging anybody. He stood up, meaning to make his feelings clear, but numbness fizzed through his entire body and he felt faint. His wordless mouth opened as he tried to make his legs move forward but instead, with a loud thud, he fell into a heap on the floor.
3
Firestones
LOOK. HE’S COMING round.’
Trevor opened his eyes to see three slightly out of focus heads hovering over him as if he were some kind of curio.
‘Get him back into the chair and get some láven in him,’ Burtlùs said.
From a large, blackened pot that hung over the roaring fire, Freya ladled some hot liquid into a metal tankard and pressed it into Trevor's hands.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Drink it. It’ll help,’ Burtlùs insisted.
Trevor took a short swig. It tasted good—like sweet tea, but with a bit of a kick behind it. He took another swig and another and in no time at all it was empty.
‘Some more my dear?’ asked Freya in her soft, mothering tone, taking the tankard from his hands before he had a chance to reply.
‘Thank you,’ he said, starting on the second helping and already feeling a great deal better. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologized, in between gulps of the láven. ‘I don’t know what happened. I’ve never fainted before.’
‘Yeah, right. Looked as real as your story sounded,’ said the boy.
‘That’s enough.’ Even Freya's patience was beginning to wear thin. ‘How about you start explaining why you were ejected from that galleon? It seems you’re not quite as innocent as you would like us to believe.’
‘You can start with your name,’ Burtlùs added.
The boy’s face contorted with disgust, now that he was the one being scrutinized. ‘There’s not that much to tell really,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I got a job on that galleon a few moons ago. I was the newest and the smallest so I was picked on.’ He paused for a moment, feeling the pressure of his story being tested.
‘So how come you were thrown overboard?’ asked Trevor, almost enjoying the boy’s discomfort.
‘The banter went a little too far, and here I am.’
‘Good job that tree broke your fall,’ said Trevor.
The boy didn’t appreciate his apparent concern.
‘And this boy, in your story, does he have a name?’ Burtlùs asked sarcastically.
‘My name’s Mèlli. Satisfied?’
The boy’s words were full of bravado but he folded his arms in front of him defensively. In the silence that followed, Trevor’s attention was drawn to the patter of rain on the window. It was dark outside and the runnels of water were illuminated by the light from the room.
Burtlùs changed the subject. ‘So you feel better?’ he asked Trevor.
‘Oh much, thank you.’ He did feel more like himself now, though still a little unnerved by these strange events, his unusual hosts and that irritating boy, Mèlli.
‘Then maybe you should try to explain what happened again, but this time, tell us everything.’
Trevor wasn’t sure he would be able to convince these people of where he had come from or how he had arrived here. He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself.
Burtlùs continued. ‘I’m the first to admit that I don’t understand everything, and I’m willing to keep an open mind. Maybe we can piece it all together.’
Trevor didn’t know if what he could tell them would be of any use, but at least Burtlùs was trying to help. He recounted what had happened, trying to remember every single detail just in case it turned out to be important. He found himself explaining all about Earth, perhaps to convince these people that it really was another world.
Burtlùs stood beside Freya and listened patiently. ‘This world of yours certainly sounds incredible,’ he said when Trevor had finished. He found it difficult to imagine such a place, but even harder to believe that someone could make it up.
Freya placed a hand on Trevor’s knee. ‘Your mother must be so worried.’
Trevor’s shoulders slumped and his chin fell against his chest. He had been trying not to think about that. After the argument and the way he had stormed out, she probably thought he had run away. He could imagine how upset she would be. And he had no way to contact her. No way to tell her that he was okay. And now he wondered if he would ever see her again.
‘I know it’s hard to believe and I’m really sorry to trouble you with all this,’ he said.
‘Don’t you worry my dear,’ said Freya. ‘We’ll find a way to sort it all out.’
Burtlùs gave Freya a reassuring nod and sat down beside the fire, looking very thoughtful. Freya understood and started to wash up some dirty pots at the sink, leaving him to talk with Trevor alone.
‘Mèlli, come over here and give me a hand,’ she said.
But Mèlli ignored her. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot, before I was thrown from the galleon this morning, I popped into another world to have breakfast—’ He broke off, catching Burtlùs’ eye. ‘Well, it is the most stupid story I’ve ever heard,’ he protested.
Burtlùs ignored him. ‘Okay. So let’s say you have come here from another world—’
‘You don’t really believe this nonsense, do you?’ Mèlli scoffed.
‘Quiet! Freya asked you to help her.’
‘Seriously though…’
‘Mèlli, I said come over here and give me a hand!’ called Freya.
Mèlli rolled his eyes, stood up sulkily and did as he was told.
‘Now, as I was saying,’ Burtlùs continued, ‘if you have somehow come here from another world…’
Trevor feared he wasn’t going to like what his host was about to say.
‘…then there must be some way of sending you back home. It’s obvious that you need help and I think I know just the person…’ He gazed at the fire thoughtfully.
Trevor looked up with a renewed sense of hope.
‘What are you thinking, my dear?’ asked Freya.
Burtlùs took the stone jar from the shelf beside the fireplace and stuffed a pinch of leaves into the bowl of his pipe. ‘If there’s one person in the whole of Ëlamár who will know where to start with all this, it’s Ormostrious.’
‘Ormostrious. Yes, of course!’ Freya beamed at her husband and nodded approvingly.
‘Who’s Ormostrious?’ asked Trevor.
‘Nice to see you’re all getting along so well,’ scoffed Mèlli. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ He strode across the room and stormed out through the cottage door, closing it behind him with a bang.
They looked at each other, confused by this sudden outburst.
‘I’ll go after him,’ said Freya, as she pulled a thick, earth-colored shawl across her shoulders, took a lantern from the wall and hurried outside after Mèlli.
Burtlùs settled back in his chair and cleared his throat. ‘Ormostrious. Well now, where should I begin?’ he said. ‘I’ve known him ever since I was a lad. Oh, the things we used to get up to!’ He seemed to have a tear in his eye. ‘King Somúlùs and Ormostrious were my two best friends. Of course, it was frowned upon—a prince, as he was back then, knocking around with a woodsman’s son and the city’s misfit. I think if Somúlùs had been first in line to the throne of runia, our friendship may have ended before it began. Ormostrious, on the other hand, never re
ally fit in with anyone. If he hadn’t had me and old Somúlùs, I dread to think what may have become of him.’
He took a long, hard draw from his smoldering pipe. ‘The thing that was truly remarkable about him,’ he continued after a moment, ‘was just how clever he was, how differently he viewed things. Amazing.’ A silly smile crept across his face, the fond memories of childhood still strong in his mind.
‘There was a point, you know, when the city folk called for him to be exiled. And it would have happened if Somúlùs hadn’t suddenly become king after his father and brother were killed in that accident. We were young men by then of course.’
Trevor shuffled to the edge of his seat. ‘But why didn’t anyone like him?’ he asked. Then he lowered his voice. ‘Did he do something bad?’
Burtlùs laughed. ‘No, not really. You see, Ormostrious was fascinated by the world. He wanted to know how it all worked—how it all fitted together. He was always carrying out experiments, trying to solve the mysteries of what he called the “universe”. Then one day, there was an explosion…’
‘Explosion? Was anybody hurt?’ Trevor's face crinkled with worry.
‘No, but it upset a great many people. You could feel the ground shake from all the way out here. Not to mention the smoke.’ Burtlùs gave another of his funny little chuckles. ‘There was thick black smoke and it got into everything—you ask Freya. Had to soak the washing for a week, she did. There was always something with Ormostrious.’ Burtlùs was grinning from ear to ear.
‘I can imagine,’ Trevor said.
‘I missed him when he went off exploring,’ he continued, staring wistfully into space. ‘I hardly recognized him when he returned, what with his bushy beard and long hair. He was a different person with everything he’d learned. It was like a different language—I hardly knew what he was talking about most of the time, it was all ancient civilizations and powerful magic. No sooner had he got back than he locked himself away in that house that King Somúlùs had built for him.’
Trevor listened in wonderment as the stories continued. Even though he hadn’t met Ormostrious, he felt sure that he would be the one to help him.
Later, Freya and Mèlli reappeared, their clothes covered in tiny beads of water from the rain that was still falling. ‘Have you thought any more about going to see Ormostrious?’ Freya asked, shaking the droplets of rain from her shawl.
Mèlli didn’t say anything, he just sat down on one of the wooden chairs surrounding the table.
‘We’ll have to take a trip up to see him, there’s no doubt,’ Burtlùs said. ‘But I’m not sure what we’re going to do about the gates. No one gets through without papers anymore and we know Trevor hasn’t got any.’
‘It’s not just Trevor we need to worry about,’ Freya said in a hushed voice, indicating towards Mèlli with a slight nod of her head.
‘Humph…I doubt he’s got anything that will pass for official either,’ Burtlùs grunted. He pondered for a moment and then jumped out of his chair, speaking with an air of excitement in his voice. ‘We’ll just have to smuggle the pair of them in, won’t we?’
Freya looked both worried and astonished at Burtlùs’ daring plan.
‘Smuggle us in?’ Mèlli said. ‘Why do we need papers to get into rus?’
‘It’s all this trouble in the north. The rumors of war coming to runia,’ Freya explained. ‘They say the king’s become paranoid—he ordered the city gates to be shut several moons ago now and no-one gets in without their papers.’
‘All nonsense if you ask me,’ Burtlùs said. He looked at Mèlli suspiciously. ‘So you’ve been to rus before?’
‘Well, yes. I’ve been a few times with my mother, quite some time ago now though, to visit the library. That’s why I’m here—to use the library.’
Burtlùs cast another suspicious look at the boy. ‘What business do you have at the library? You told us you were crewing on that galleon.’ His glare hardened as he bit down on his pipe. ‘I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with us.’
‘I ran out of money so I had to get the job on the galleon to get to rus. It was the only way I could make the journey. Not as though it’s any of your business anyway,’ Mèlli spat.
‘I beg your pardon. Don’t speak to me like that!’
‘Now Burtlùs, Mèlli’s business is his own,’ said Freya. ‘I think that’s enough questions for one night.’
Burtlùs’ face contorted. ‘If I’m about to put my family in harm’s way, I want to know who I’m doing it for!’
‘Don’t pretend you’re doing it for me. It’s your new best friend Trevor you’re helping.’ Mèlli recoiled into his chair. ‘I can get myself into rus; I don’t need anyone’s help.’
Trevor looked at Mèlli curled up in his chair and saw how small and vulnerable he was. He realized that he felt sorry for him. Perhaps this boy needed help as much as he did.
‘So…err…how do we get to Ormostrious?’ he asked, trying to diffuse the situation. ‘Is there any other way we can get in?’
‘No. The gates are the only way into the city. But I have an idea.’
Burtlùs was a dungfuel farmer. It was well known that the droppings from certain creatures of the Southern Forest made a powerful source of fuel, and this was much sought-after by the people of rus. But city folk were disinclined to get their hands dirty. That was Burtlùs’ job. He collected the dung, packed it into brick-shaped molds and dried it out in a store beside his cottage. Then he would load his cart high with the foul-smelling stuff and deliver it into the city to be sold. He explained his idea. He would build a false compartment in his cart for Trevor and Mèlli to hide in and then pile the dungfuel up around it and no-one would be any the wiser.
‘How long will that take, my dearest?’ asked Freya. ‘A delivery is due. Will it be ready on time?’
‘I’ll start first thing in the morning. With two young lads to help, I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble getting it finished.’ Burtlùs took one last draw from his pipe. ‘Well, I had better turn in,’ he said, raising himself to his feet. He and Freya disappeared into the bedroom.
Trevor and Mèlli sat in silence until Freya came back in, carrying a huge bundle of bedding. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the floor. There should be enough bedding here to make you both comfortable. Use it as you wish. Lie on it or whatever.’
Trevor stood to take the bundle from her. He stumbled awkwardly before dropping the lot onto the chair where he had just been sitting. Mèlli sat and watched in silence.
‘There’s some warm water here so you can give yourselves a wash,’ she said, taking a pail of water from beside the fire and emptying it into the sink. ‘Oh, you’ll sort yourselves out I’m sure. Goodnight. Sleep well.’ With that she disappeared back into the bedroom, clicking the door shut behind her.
Trevor stood pulling at the feather quilts. ‘Where do you want to sleep? I don’t mind where I am.’
Mèlli just stared at him, making him feel awkward, so he went over to the sink and stooped over it to scrub at his mud-stained hands. He took his time, not wanting to speak to Mèlli again, and waited until he had dimmed the lights before going back over. Mèlli had pushed Burtlùs’ chair from where it was and had made himself a bed next to the fireplace. He was sitting with his back to the fire, holding a pendant that hung around his neck and muttering to himself. He gave the pendant a quick kiss before tucking it down his shirt. Trevor pretended not to have noticed and waited for him to lie down before picking up what remained of the bedding.
‘I thought you’d be alright over there,’ said Mèlli in a monotone from beneath his covers. ‘I took the fire. My clothes are still a little damp.’
‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ Trevor replied, hurrying to set the blankets on the floor so that he could get into bed and not have to engage in any more conversation. He went to put out the last light. It was a lantern of some kind, the light spilling out from beneath a glass dome. He wasn’t sure how to extingu
ish it; he assumed it was a candle that would need to be snuffed out, so he reached out a hand to touch the glass. It was cold. Surprised, he lifted the lid to find what appeared to be two glowing stones, one on top of the other. He stood, looking aimlessly at them for a moment.
‘You take the top one off,’ came an impatient voice.
‘What, with my fingers?’
‘Yes, with your fingers.’
Trevor apprehensively used the tip of his finger to tap the top stone. To his relief, it too felt cold. He picked up the stone and the room darkened instantly. He held it for a moment, wondering, and then replaced it. Immediately, a silver light flowed outwards across the room. He could barely contain a whoop of delight. It wasn’t until he had removed and replaced the stone several times that he realized Mèlli was sitting up watching him. Feeling a little self-conscious, he quickly removed the top stone once more and set it beside the lantern. Then, with only the orange glow from the fire to light his way, he found the bundled-up quilts and buried himself under them.
‘Are you really from another world?’ A sleepy voice came from beside the fireplace. Trevor didn’t answer, hoping that Mèlli would think he was asleep. But he asked for a second time.
‘Uh, yeah, I guess so,’ said Trevor.
‘And you think whatshisname will be able to get you back?’
‘His name’s Ormostrious. And Burtlùs says he knows about these sorts of things.’
‘Is he a scholar then?’
‘Why are you so interested all of a sudden?’
‘No reason.’
‘Why do you want to go to this library?’ Trevor asked, not actually expecting a reply and hoping to put an end to the conversation.
Mèlli sat up and looked directly at him. He pulled the blankets around his shoulders and paused for a moment before speaking. ‘I’m trying to finish something that my mother started. It’s her life’s work, my father always said. Every moment she had, she spent researching.’ Then he clammed up, as though he had said too much. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.’