by S McPherson
He bellows out, tumbles to the ground, the blade handle protruding from his leg. About to bludgeon me in the face, there’s a flash of blue and Milo’s hand is on Hix’s shoulder. Milo looks wrecked: a swollen lip, a slit eyelid and slick with sweat. With another loud clash, they’re gone. Does he plan on doing this all night?
The remaining three waste no time, and neither do I. I rip the cloth from my mouth and crawl away, commando style, the taste of salt lingering on my tongue. Pain shoots from my shoulder all the way to my fingertips. The agony is jarring. It’s no use. They’d be faster than me on a good day.
In seconds, they yank me up by my hair, flipping me onto my back. One of them grips my wrists, binding them above my head. The other grabs my ankles, wrestling me as I attempt to kick my way free.
‘I think we’ll start with a foot.’ Her voice is extraordinarily high-pitched, grating my eardrums with every shrill note. ‘Makes it harder for you to run away.’
‘No,’ I cry, ‘No!’ Panic-stricken and injured, I thrash persistently under their relentless hold. ‘Get off me!’ I scream hating the familiar surge of helplessness rising under my skin. ‘Get off me!’ I howl, anger merging with my pain.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ leers another with a deep and booming voice, ‘we’ll leave your pretty face.’ He grips my chin in his sausage hands, squeezing my cheeks between my teeth. ‘So the Court can recognise you.’
There’s a sudden chorus of clashes and I’m dizzy with shock when Milo, Howard, Yvane, Deshilly and Gavin appear. Deshilly and Howard have doubled in size, arriving in full Fuerté form. Not wasting a second, they barrel at our enemies. Deshilly wails angrily, spinning her larger than average fist into the side of the woman’s head.
My captors jump to their feet, hissing, snarling and fierce. My arm throbs and bile rises in my throat. Gavin and Milo pounce on the remaining enemy, and in swirls of blue and red, they vanish from sight.
Fists to the face, blows to the gut. Howard is then punched in the stomach. I go to cry out but my voice has fled and I watch, horrified, covered in mud. Scrambling to my knees, I bite at the binds around my wrists.
Yvane, momentarily horror-stricken, now races over to me, collapsing onto her knees.
‘Are you alright?’ She scans my face in a frenzy. ‘You’re bleeding!’ she gasps, noticing my shoulder and dripping palm.
I don’t reply, gripped by fear as Howard delivers blow after blow, veins bulging in his oversized neck, hunched over until he at last knocks his opponent unconscious. Meanwhile, Deshilly narrowly dodges the vampire as he charges at her, fangs bared. In an instant, Howard’s by her side, the vampire in a headlock.
I feel Yvane yank off my jacket, tear at my sleeve and then bandage my oozing wound with it. I feel everything and yet I feel nothing, numb with shock and dread.
Milo and Gavin return. Gavin is limping but Milo is sprinting, charging at the still restrained vampire, a newly acquired sword clutched in his grip. Howard steps back slightly as Milo wields the weapon above his head, swinging it with savage fluidity before arcing down and slicing through the vampires neck. The eyes go vacant and the head tumbles to the ground, ice and pebbles spotting its pale complexion.
The sword clangs as it drops to the ground and Milo races over to me. He wraps a protective arm around my shoulders, drawing me to him, wiping my sweat soaked hair from my face.
‘It’s over,’ he breathes. ‘You’re safe.’
‘I don’t understand how they knew,’ Yvane wonders as the others join us. I’m pleased to see Howard and Deshilly have gone back to their normal, less menacing appearance.
Milo looks earnestly at me. ‘I do.’
As soon as everyone learns what we’ve done, how we crossed the portal, leaving behind Lexovia, how we tricked them into thinking I was her, how Milo and I went to Taratesia and went on board the ship, they are all livid, to put it mildly. Deshilly’s fist involuntarily takes on Fuerté form and Howard has to place his own hand over hers until she calms down.
‘I don’t believe this,’ Gavin hisses. ‘We are all damned for your idiocy.’ He stares at the sky, struggling to remain calm. ‘Consider tonight a favour. From now on you’re on your own.’ He holds out his hand to Deshilly who accepts it, and in a haze of red, they teleport from sight.
The four of us sit in silence, Yvane and Howard only shocked by the knowledge of Taratesia, the ship.
‘You’ve put us all in danger.’ All traces of anger have vanished and genuine concern is rife. Yvane runs her fingers through her hair.
‘Sorry,’ my voice cracks. The word sounds hollow.
‘Don’t apologise,’ Milo murmurs.
‘I’d say that’s the least you can do,’ Howard snaps, his fists bunching.
Milo stands, removing his arm from around me for the first time in I don’t know how long. ‘I’m not saying it wasn’t stupid, going on board that ship.’ He concedes, pacing before us. ‘It’s definitely put us in a bad place and we were complete twats to think we could get away with it, but I can’t apologise for it and I wouldn’t take a second of that day back.’ His eyes briefly pass over mine. He frowns. ‘If anything, I’m sorry, I’m not sorry.’ And he drags a hand down his face.
Yvane stands now, still shaky, appearing to be speaking her thoughts aloud. ‘The Elenfar is in a few weeks. The Vildacruz are searching for a sign of vulnerability from us and…and you two just gave it to them.’ She looks at us like we’re strangers. ‘You prance around in love whilst the rest of us fear war.’
‘We have to go to the Court,’ Howard says and stands to leave.
‘No!’ Milo’s voice comes out too loud for this quiet place.
‘What?’ Howard’s incredulous.
‘We aren’t telling the Court anything,’ Milo says in that calm and steady tone, that promises depths of discord. I can’t decide which volume is more off-putting. ‘The portal opens soon. Dezaray will be safe with me until then.’
Howard scoffs, ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I got her into this mess. I’m going to be the one to get her out.’
Howard clenches his fists, biting hard on his bottom lip. His fist bubbles, battling between his usual and his Fuerté forms.
‘Milo—’
‘She stays with me.’
For a long while, silence follows. I remain on the ground, focussing on the pulsing ache in my arm, eyes down. I’m cold but not from the snow beneath me – just terrified.
‘Two days,’ Howard at last sighs, clear those two days can’t pass quick enough for him.
Milo nods, his jaw taut. ‘Two days.’
RETURN TO MY DIMENSION
We spend the first of those two days tucked away inside Lexovia’s cottage, the only place we can truly be alone. The one place I can be me and not the last Elentrice. Milo cleans my wounds with a splash of Extroosal: a green liquid that stings and smarts my skin, supposedly destroying the germs.
To keep from screaming I bite my lip so hard it bleeds.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ he scolds, going to dab some Extroosal on my mouth.
‘No.’ I dodge the soaked tissue but he grapples me, pressing me into the sofa, and the next thing I know, my lip feels like it’s on fire. ‘Ow!’ I moan.
‘Baby,’ and he grins, leaning over and pressing his lips to mine. Suddenly, they hurt less. I want to pull him onto me but he has my one good arm pinned at my side. The kiss is tender and lingering, like he’s never kissed me before and like he’ll never kiss me again. I strain into it, trying to make it last as I feel him move away.
‘Right, let’s cover your shoulder,’ he says, rummaging in the basket beside him and pulling out a plastic pouch that looks like it’s full of blue gel.
‘This is going to feel weird,’ he announces before pressing the gel pack onto my injury. It grips me, sucking as it moulds to my skin. It’s cold, but after a while, the stab wound doesn’t hurt at all, only a slight pressure on my shoulder.
I wrinkle m
y nose. ‘Weird is an understatement.’
Milo laughs and briefly holds his lips to my forehead.
From that moment, we barely move, cradled in each other’s arms, talking about mindless things, pausing for kisses and the occasional scrap of food.
‘By the way, I’ve been looking into the Provolian Pair,’ Milo later says, stroking my hair whilst I lie in his lap.
‘Really?’ My eyes dart in his direction. I didn’t think we were still clinging to that hope, considering everything that happened last night.
He nods. ‘My cousin Dean is a portologist; I briefly mindled him about them.’
‘And?’ I say.
‘He reckons they really exist.’
My heart thumps faster but I don’t interrupt.
‘Apparently, portologists believe the Provolian Pair were taken decades ago.’ Milo screws up his face.
‘Taken? Where?’
He shrugs. ‘Some other realm.’
‘By who?’
‘No one knows. They say Tranzuta is the only one who ever managed multi-realm travel but…’ and Milo shakes his head.
I draw myself up to face him. ‘Why would Tranzuta, or anyone, do that?’
‘Supposedly to stop a war.’ Milo looks straight at me but his eyes give nothing away.
‘What do you mean?’
He sighs, ‘To live as one with your counterpart…that was a pretty sought after gift. One people were willing to kill for.’ We’re silent for a moment.
‘So, basically, if we find them,’ I consider, ‘we could end up starting a war?’
He nods.
‘Never safe.’
He shakes his head. ‘Always looking over our shoulder.’
‘But together.’
He nods again. I grimace. The chances of us finding the gems are slim, the idea more of a balm to soothe our separation. But what if we do find them? A night on a ship is one thing, but to descend an already battling world into further turmoil is absurd.
Sucking in a shallow breath, I sigh. ‘Now what?’
‘Now we find them.’
‘We find them?’ I repeat, half asking, half stating.
‘We find them.’
‘And the war?’
‘One problem at a time, sweetheart.’ He pulls me against him, his smile layered in sadness. ‘One problem at a time.’
That night, Milo lies beside me but neither of us really sleep. He rolls over, wrapping his arms around my middle, nuzzling his nose into the back of my neck. I lock my fingers between his and inhale his familiar scent. I try to enjoy the moment, to get lost in him. But it’s taking all my willpower not to think about tomorrow. Neither of us have mentioned it but it’s coming. I snuggle closer to him, pulling his hand to my lips and thinking about how much I don’t want to think about tomorrow.
The inevitable tomorrow arrives and I vow to make the most of it. Abandoning all thoughts of returning to my dimension, saying goodbye and the possibility of death, I force myself to enjoy the trek through the woods.
‘I bought a pack of Corporeal playing cards from Corporeal Ville,’ Howard announces. ‘Perhaps you can teach us a game.’
‘Sure,’ I say.
After a day to cool off, the four of us have reunited as if nothing happened the other night. Conversation flows easily and even Yvane seems to have warmed up to me. Probably because she’s relieved that I’m finally leaving but I don’t mind. At least she’s treating me like a person at last.
We’ve been walking for some time now – Milo leading the way with the gethamot in hand, its floating smoke arrow guiding us – and we’re all looking forward to setting up camp later on.
‘Anyone else hungry?’ Milo asks, expertly avoiding a tree root protruding from the ground.
‘I have some snickleberry root.’ Yvane rummages in her bag and pulls out a long wooden stick. Snapping bits off, she hands some to Milo, then to Howard and finally to me. I look curiously at the twig; small red dots adorn it. I assume they are the snickleberries. I look at the boys happily devouring their own piece. Yvane then breaks off a fraction for herself and begins chomping on it.
‘Never had snickleberry root?’ Milo asks, observing my bemused expression.
‘Never even heard of snickleberry root.’
‘Really?’ Howards eyes are wide. ‘Oh, it’s delicious. Just suck on it for a bit then take a bite.’
I hesitantly place the stick in my mouth and suck. It’s sweet and seems to sizzle on my tongue. A large amount of juice fills my mouth and I’m amazed that such a tiny berry could produce so much. The others stare at me expectantly.
‘So?’ Howard asks.
I happily take a bite and am further impressed. The stick crunches and cracks in my mouth, adding a whole new texture to the sweet juice trickling down my throat.
‘Absolutely fantastic,’ I announce before taking another, slightly larger bite. The others cheer. ‘Hiding any other Coldivor delicacies I should know about?’
‘No more on me.’ Yvane frowns. ‘You’ll just have to come back one day.’
‘Wouldn’t that be grand?’ I muse.
‘After the Elenfar,’ Howard adds, removing a log from our path. His arm instinctively doubles in size as he pulls up the wood and tosses it aside. ‘If all goes well, the Vildacruz will finally be defeated, and we can at last return to Taratesia. To our home.’
‘And then who knows? Any day now, passing of the portal could start up again,’ Milo agrees. My spirits rise.
‘It won’t be that easy,’ Yvane, always the voice of optimism, interjects. ‘The Elenfar could possibly and will probably be the first of many battles.’
I look at Milo who rolls his eyes. I smile.
‘True,’ and Howard nods thoughtfully, ‘but one day, I know we’ll get back the glory days.’
‘If anyone can do it, Lexovia can,’ Milo says.
‘Here’s to Lexovia.’ Yvane holds her snickleberry root in the air. We all follow with our own. ‘May she save us all.’
My feet ache and mere words can’t express my relief when Milo says that we’ll finally be setting up camp. The gethamot’s arrow has stopped spinning, having directed us to where the portal will open. The sun has set and the stars have woken, shining in shards through the leaves of the trees, polka-dotting the earth. It seems we have journeyed through the entire forest and ended up in a flat, grassy area. I’m surprised to feel its softness beneath my feet as I wriggle out of my shoes. I have become so used to the grit of sand. Then I realise, if we’ve reached grass then we are well and truly nestled in Taratesia.
‘Isn’t this dangerous?’ I whisper, yanking a tent from its case.
‘Not as dangerous as joining the Vildacruz on their ship,’ Yvane murmurs with a wry twist of her lips.
‘Point taken,’ I mumble. Though the thought of the Vildacruz was much less terrifying before I’d actually faced them. Now I know better. Now, I’m in no hurry to face any of them again.
Shaking out my tent and about to gather its sticks, I hear Howard snort.
‘What?’
‘Corporeal methods.’ He laughs, shaking his head.
‘My apologies,’ I offer scathingly. ‘How do the Coltis pitch a tent then?’
‘Not like that,’ he chortles. ‘Allow me.’ Howard smiles proudly as he holds his hand out in front of him. ‘Setforimor,’ he whispers.
A stream of red extends from his index finger and Howard directs it at my tent, which the scarlet beam instantly begins to assemble. I’m captivated as the tent manifests before my eyes, a crimson ray bouncing around it.
‘Setforimor eblex,’ he says. This time Howard aims his finger at Yvane’s tent. The same thing happens again only now with a glowing blue light. Then he moves on to Milo’s and finally his own, seeming to request a different colour each time, swirls of green and then yellow.
‘This is brilliant,’ I gasp.
Until now, fireworks were the most impressive light show I’d ever seen, and I hadn’t s
een them since New Year’s eve a few years ago. My most recent New Year’s had been spent in my room, listening to the radio and pretending not to care. Sometimes, when I pulled back my headphones, I could hear them, shrieking and popping into the night, but I never bothered to clamber out of bed to take a look.
Milo watches me more intently than I watch the show. He smiles, clearly admiring my childlike innocence. I think I might grow self-conscious, flush, but I’m simply too entranced.
‘Ready for the finale?’ Howard asks in a very showman-like manner. I nod. Howard directs his hand at the smouldering logs attempting to be our campfire. ‘Iginassa Kiporé!’ he hisses.
A ray of pink shoots from his finger and lands on the logs. Instantly, a raging fire ignites.
‘Iginassa eleon.’ A lion’s head, larger than my entire body, appears in the flames. It roars and stretches out to meet me. I’m rooted to the spot, though my mind is screaming, demanding I run before I get incinerated. The lion stares at me, tawny flames prancing in its eyes. Then swiftly it retreats, back into the fire pit. It lets out a last almighty roar before erupting into a blaze of flames.
‘Wow,’ I exhale, ‘Coltis: one, Corporeal: zero.’
Howard puffs with pride and now Milo is teleporting around us, creating a box. He does it so swiftly the dust doesn’t settle, and Howard and Yvane hold up their hands, as if holding the mist in place. They don’t say any incantation but for an instant each of their eyes glows and they keep both their hands up against the sapphire haze.
When they finally return to feeding the fire, emptying sacks and setting up sleeping bags, there’s a sheer cobalt wall around us.
‘Force field,’ Milo says, coming up behind me and running a finger down my neck. ‘It’s nothing fancy but it will buy us a bit of time if anything attacks, and it muffles our sound.’
I’m only just listening as he snakes his arms around my waist and every part of me stands to attention, as if struck with a match. He slowly rocks us, humming to himself, his lips lightly brushing the base of my ear. My breathing slows.