by V M Jones
‘But I know what she doesn’t: she isn’t responding to the treatment. For Hannah, all we can do is pray for a miracle. A miracle, or the kind of magic that exists only in a world other than our own.’
Hannah stirred and murmured in her sleep. There was a scraping sound as a chair was pushed back. Someone started to speak. Crazy though it sounds, it took a moment before I realised it was me.
‘I’ll go to Karazan, and I’ll find the potion if it exists, and bring it back. I’ll go on my own, if no one else wants to come. But first we need one person to go to Karazan and come back again straightaway, kind of like a test run. And I’m happy for that person to be me. If I can prove it’s safe, then if anyone else wants to go back with me to look for the potion, that’s cool.’
Jamie jumped up too, quick as a flash. ‘I think Adam’s right. He’s the logical one to be the guinea pig, especially as he scored so highly in the plasma-globe test.
Richard chipped in angrily. ‘Yeah, right, Jamie — lucky you didn’t get the highest score in the plasma-globe test, like you keep telling us you did in all the others, huh? Well, Adam, I’m not chicken. I’ll come with you — on both trips.’
I gave him a grin. ‘Thanks for the offer, Rich. But you can’t come on the test. That’d defeat the whole purpose! I have to do the first trip alone.’ I didn’t say so, but unlike the others, there was no one to miss me if I didn’t come back … and no one to make trouble for Q, either.
‘I am with you, also, Adam. As I have mentioned, I wish to become a doctor. If there is something that can be done to save a child’s life — I will do it.’
I smiled at Kenta. There was something impressive about her grave little face, so set and determined.
Gen spoke up. She sounded a lot less sure, though, and there was a quaver in her voice. ‘If Adam’s prepared to go and check it out, and if he comes back OK and it all seems safe … then I’ll go. If everyone else does.’
No one looked at Jamie.
After lunch the others went outside with Shaw for a game of volleyball, and I followed Q upstairs. We hung a left at the top of the main staircase, and headed to a part of the house I hadn’t seen before. We stopped outside a studded wooden door at the end of a long corridor. Q tapped once, opened it, and in we went.
The room was empty except for two long metal racks of drab-looking clothes, and a fat, grandmotherly woman in a flowered apron. She was sitting by the window knitting, but lumbered to her feet as soon as the door opened.
‘So this is the boy, Quentin my dear. Adam, isn’t it? Well, now, let’s have a look at you.’ She put her hands on her ample hips and gave me the once up and down. Then she gave a brisk nod. ‘You’ll do very nicely, I’m sure. And you were right about the size, Quentin — more a fourteen than a twelve.’
She moved to one of the racks, and started flipping through the hangers.
‘This is Nanny, Adam,’ Q told me. ‘Not just Hannah’s nanny, but my nanny too, from when I was a little boy. Nanny’s also a qualified nurse, which has made everything easier as far as Hannah’s treatment is concerned. Nanny knows why you’re here, and what you’ve agreed to do.’
‘And bless you for it, my dear. Though I must admit, it all seems rather far-fetched to me — I don’t really understand computers and other worlds and suchlike. But Quentin, now — he’s always had his head in the clouds, haven’t you, dearie? More questions and strange notions than any child I’ve ever known … well now, how I do go on! Wee Hannah’s all that matters now — and if there’s even a chance of something to save that little lamb … well, you’re a dear boy to try it, Adam.
‘Now then, pop this on for size.’
She’d been flipping through the hangers while she talked, and now she held one out to me, with what looked at first glance like a sack on it. I saw it was an old-fashioned tunic and a pair of breeches, made of rough brown cloth. ‘And these too, my dear.’ Nanny handed me a soft white shirt with long sleeves and no collar, along with a pair of woollen socks, worn leather boots, and a broad leather belt.
I may not be a genius, but by now even I had cottoned on. ‘Hey, Q,’ I objected, ‘you aren’t expecting me to wear all this stuff?’
Q gave me an apologetic look. ‘Athough we have a fairly accurate idea of the likely entry point, we can’t be sure — and there’s no guarantee it’ll be deserted. Imagine appearing in the middle of a crowded marketplace in Karazan wearing jeans and a sweatshirt! You must admit,’ his eyes twinkled, and he gave me his first real smile since the morning, ‘you wouldn’t exactly blend in.’
He had a point. I took the gear into the bathroom and changed into it. It fitted perfectly, and to my surprise was pretty comfortable. I slung the rucksack Q had handed me over my shoulder.
Looking at the reflection of the tall, rough-haired, olive-skinned stranger in the mirror, I felt the first real stirrings of excitement. I looked like someone from another world … and for the first time, I began to believe it might be for real.
Q and I were alone in the computer room. I sat down in front of my computer, where the latest version of Quest to Karazan was loaded, ready to play. Except this wasn’t a game. Suddenly, I felt as if I might throw up. I took a quick sip of water from the glass next to the computer, and swallowed it with a gulping sound.
Q sat down on the chair next to mine. ‘Listen to me carefully. The keyboard command to activate the VRE and enter Karazan is Alt Control Q. Logically, the entry point should be where Quest to Karazan begins: at the foot of the cliffs to the west of the city of Arakesh.’ He gestured to the waiting screen. ‘The brief flashes I experienced support this.’
He held out something about the size and shape of a cellphone. It had a tiny screen like a cellphone, but where the numbers should have been was a tiny keyboard, like on a computer.
‘This is the most important thing of all. It’s the smallest microcomputer in the world. Apart from the size and the fact that it’s battery powered, its specifications are identical to the PC you’ve been using. So what do you think you will need to do to return from Karazan?’
I looked at the keyboard. There was the on-off switch, as tiny as a grain of rice. ‘Press Alt Control Q again?’
‘Yes. It works like a toggle. Alt Control Q to get into Karazan, Alt Control Q to come home.’
All of a sudden I was desperate to go. If I was going to do it, I wanted to get on with it.
Q must have seen my impatience. ‘One final thing. I strongly recommend you make your re-entry from the same point you arrive at, as exactly as possible. Mark it if necessary. Logically, the interface between the two worlds will be strongest there.
‘Now, give me your hands.’ I held out my hands, and he took them. His hands felt very cold, and looked pale in my big, brown paws. His eyes met mine at last. Without his glasses, they were level and direct, the pure, clear blue of a summer sky.
‘Adam, be careful. Come straight back. Good luck … and thank you.’
There was no more to be said. Q gave my hands a squeeze, and released them. I slipped the tiny computer into my rucksack and fastened it securely.
Slid the straps over my shoulders, and shrugged them into position.
Swivelled round on my chair to face the computer.
Pressed the Alt button.
Pressed Control.
And with the index finger of my right hand, reached across and touched the Q, lightly as a feather.
Closed my eyes, and pressed.
In the forest
Nothing happened.
I’d been expecting — I don’t know — a sucking feeling, or a spiral of swirling colours, or maybe even the flashes Q had told us about.
But nothing. Nothing at all.
I sat there like an idiot with my eyes closed, hoping the keyboard command took a while to register, or something dumb like that. I felt sick with disappointment. I was dreading the look on Q’s face when he realised his great discovery — and Hannah’s last chance — was a load of humbug.
When it was clear that nothing was going to keep on happening, I took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Q,’ I said. ‘It hasn’t —’
And I opened my eyes.
I was sitting on a low, lichen-covered rock at the foot of a cliff. I was in Karazan.
The hugeness of it overwhelmed me. I buried my face in my hands, hot tears squeezing out from between my eyelids. Shallowly, I breathed in the air of that alien world. It was cool, soft with the dampness of morning mist, and tinged with the faintest hint of wood smoke.
I don’t know how long I sat there with my head in my hands. Gradually, I began to notice sounds: the whispering of wind in trees; a sudden bird call, a weird, whistling trill unlike any I’d ever heard before; the far-off thunk of an axe on wood; even further away, the single clear chime of a bell.
I took a deep breath, took my hands away from my eyes and looked around me. It was morning — very early morning, just before dawn. The rock I was sitting on was at the foot of a cliff … the cliff I’d been gazing at moments before on the computer screen.
The cliff was slick and smooth like granite. It stretched away above me as far as I could see, and off to each side into the distance like an endless wall. Just like on the computer game, the ground sloped gradually away from the cliff towards a dense forest of strange-looking trees. From my elevation, their tops stretched off into the distance in a nubbly blue-green carpet, with wisps of morning mist tangled among them like cobwebs.
On the far horizon shone a ribbon of brightness — the sea. Above it, ragged bands of cloud were slashed with the first copper streaks of the new day. Beyond the distant edges of the forest, I could just make out the buff-coloured walls of a city.
Closer to hand — less than a stone’s throw from the cliff face — a solitary rock reared up out of the grass. It was smooth and regular in shape, taller than a man, and as narrow as a door.
I registered all this in the instant after I opened my eyes. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as though I’d run a marathon. My mind was reeling. It had worked! I was there — here — in Karazan! Suddenly, all kinds of unwelcome thoughts were buzzing in my brain. The air — was it safe to breathe? Could the landscape — the world — truly be as real and three-dimensional as it looked? And monsters — what about monsters? I wished I’d thought of asking Q.
Cautiously, I shuffled over to the standing stone. To my relief, the ground felt firm and solid beneath my feet. With my heart in my mouth, I peered round the stone to the other side. Nothing. No monsters, no disembodied arms clutching at me from the stone. Just smooth, grey granite, pitted and scarred with the passage of time.
Tentatively, I reached out one hand and touched it. It felt cold and slightly damp. Real. Putting my face up close, I sniffed. It smelled faintly sour and metallic. I rested my forehead against it, and thought for a moment.
I ought to get out the little computer and go straight back to Q, or he’d be worried sick. But suddenly I had no doubt at all that the keyboard command would work for the return journey. And what Q had called the ‘entry point’ was so unmistakable, with the lichen-covered rock and the tall standing stone, I didn’t need to mark it. I could find my way back, no problem.
If I decided to explore, that is.
I wouldn’t go far, just to the edge of the forest. Q would understand; no one could resist going just a little way. I’d only be five minutes.
I could feel the reassuring weight of the backpack on my shoulders. My lifeline, my return ticket. Q had insisted in packing a cloak, in case it was winter in Karazan, and a packet of sandwiches, just in case I was delayed. At the time it had seemed ridiculous, as if we were packing for some kind of virtual picnic.
It didn’t seem funny now.
The weirdest thing was how real it all was. I guess I’d thought that Karazan was a fantasy world, so — if it existed — it would be like a cardboard cut-out, or hazy, like a dream. But if anything, I had a sense of heightened reality as I walked down the slope towards the trees. The ground had a peaty give, and the grass was a shimmery, russet tussock I’d never seen before, its dampness staining the leather of my boots a darker brown. Two pale moons faded into the lightening sky as the reddish-gold sun rose over the distant curve of the horizon.
There was a feeling of spring in the air. Every step seemed to release a new fragrance of damp earth and richness, and a faint, herbal scent that seemed hauntingly familiar, and at the same time utterly new. The air had a purity that sharpened my senses and everything I looked at seemed to have a shining rim of light, as if I’d never seen things properly in focus before.
I paused on the fringe of the forest. Here, the dawn chorus of birds was louder and I could hear the liquid music of water. Suddenly, a pang of homesickness stabbed through me. Not homesickness for the orphanage and Matron, but a yearning for something or someone I’d never known; a feeling of loss so strong it brought tears to my eyes.
Ahead, the grey light of the new day was swallowed by the shadow of the trees. They towered above me, their trunks stretching up to the canopy like vast pillars, cracked with age. There was no path but they were far enough apart for walking to be easy.
Without consciously deciding to I found myself taking a tentative step into the trees … and then another. I couldn’t go back yet. I hadn’t seen enough. Warily, every sense on the alert, I walked towards the sound of the water.
I’d find something to take back to Q. Something special, to prove beyond a doubt to everyone — and to myself — that Karazan was real.
It didn’t take long to reach the water — a shallow stream, clear as glass, flowing rapidly over a stony bed. The chattering, rippling music of the water as it danced over the stones made me instantly thirsty, as if I hadn’t drunk for days: my throat felt as parched and dry as sand. I had a water bottle in my pack, but the thought of plastic-tasting juice wasn’t as tempting as fresh spring water. I knelt on the bank, feeling the dampness soak into the knees of my breeches. Cupping my hands, I leaned forward over the stream, ready to scoop up a handful and drink.
And then I caught sight of my reflection, shattered and fragmented in the running water. A black, shrunken face; huge, bulbous eyes and jagged yellow fangs.
I flung myself away from the stream onto the soft, mossy bank, and rolled away into the shelter of the trees. I must have yelled; there was a sudden silence where the birdsong had been moments before. And in the silence I heard words in the sound of the water, a warning that gurgled and chuckled as it tumbled over the stones like broken words stumbling over rotting teeth, whispering over and over again: Who drinks of me shall be a shrag … who drinks of me shall be a shrag …
I ran back the way I’d come, stumbling and tripping and cursing myself for being such a fool. What kind of an idiot was I? Five seconds later and it would have been my true reflection staring back at me. Q would have been waiting in the computer room at Quested Court forever … or would he? I had a sudden, vivid flash of a dark, shambling shape clawing its way out of the computer screen, drool hanging in ropes from its rotten gums … I squeezed my eyes shut, tripped, and fell headlong onto the forest floor. Get a grip, Adam. If you’re going to freak out like this every time something unexpected happens, you’d be better off sitting by Hannah’s bed hoping for a miracle … and so would she.
I took a deep, calming breath, shrugged off my backpack, and dug inside for my water bottle. Bottled fruit juice was fine by me — I wasn’t about to eat or drink anything from Karazan until I’d had a crash course in safety from Q.
My hand was shaking so much that a major slosh of juice dribbled down my chin, but after a couple of gulps, I began to feel better. No wonder Q said I should come straight back, I thought wryly. OK, Plan B: back to the entry point, back to Quested Court, and not a word to anyone about what happened. Well, nearly happened.
I clambered to my feet and shouldered my pack. And then, just as I was setting off uphill, I saw it: the most beautiful flower I’d ever seen. It was
almost completely hidden in the undergrowth; if I hadn’t fallen, I’d have walked straight past. It was about the size of a teacup, and its petals curved outwards like fingers of flame. They were the colour of fire: red and gold and orange and yellow, with a hint of purple at their heart. It was growing on a spindly creeper making its way up the trunk of one of the trees. There was only one flower. I grinned. What could be more special than that? And suddenly a cool thought popped into my head. I’d pick the flower and take it back for Hannah. She’d have started her chemo-whatsit treatment — and I reckoned a flower from Karazan would cheer her up, no matter how lousy she felt. I bet it would smell as great as it looked. I leaned over to have a sniff.
Instantly, the flower clamped onto my face like a burning vice. I gave a strangled yell of horror and pain and fell backwards, tearing at my face. The petals were spreading like molten lava across my skin, sucking on like red-hot leeches. Shrieking, kicking, my eyes squeezed shut, I dug desperately between a petal and my cheek, trying to tear it off. But as my nails clawed and scratched uselessly, I could feel the petal spreading, growing, groping towards my mouth …
I yelled again, but with despair this time as the tentacle slipped between my lips, sucking hungrily. I clenched my mouth shut. My face was on fire; I rolled over, and scrubbed it desperately into the damp leaves on the forest floor, whimpering and writhing with pain.
And suddenly the burning stopped. I lay face down, scared to move, terrified that anything I did might start it off again. As quietly as I could, I sucked air through the free corner of my mouth … sucked air, and waited. Was it resting? Was it dead? Had I somehow managed to kill it?
Something nudged my side — something hard, poking into the softness under my ribs. I whipped over towards it with a jibbering shriek — what was coming at me now? Despite myself — despite my terror of blindness from the groping petals and my horror of what I might see — my eyes flew open.