by F M Andrews
He was surprised by the men's reaction. Clearly they were not used to being confronted with a weapon and someone who looked as if they knew how to use it. They stood staring as if they were not quite sure what to do next until the leader recovered. He sneered and then with lightning speed he lunged forward. Myssan side stepped, extending a foot at the last moment to send the man stumbling away. Sensing the other two closing in, he crouched and then sprang forward, elbowing one in the nose with a sickening crunch and slicing the other across the cheek with his weapon. He hated violence and the thought of injuring someone made him feel physically ill but he had no choice, his only hope was to make them give up before he had to kill them.
The first man recovered his feet and, with a snarl, launched himself at Myssan again. He was lucky this time and managed a glancing cut to Myssan’s upper arm. The cut stung, though he could tell it wasn’t deep; however, the blow had made the man overbalance. Myssan didn’t flinch – this was an opportunity too good to miss. Pivoting on one foot he slammed his knee into the man's exposed groin and used all the force of his two fists to deliver a crushing blow to the back of the man’s head as he bent double, clutching his excruciatingly painful balls and, just like that, the fight was over. The two men were standing nursing their injuries, panting and staring wearily at Myssan as their leader writhed on the ground before them.
Myssan backed away slowly, all the time keeping eye contact, his dagger still extended. They did not follow, instead they laughed and made rude gestures to bolster their battered egos. Myssan reached the corner and slipped around it. He stood listening, but there was no sound of footfalls. Bending low he peered back around the corner, and was relieved to see them stumbling off in the opposite direction. He sank down to the hard ground, resting his head on the reassuringly solid building behind him. He was shaking and breathing hard yet he was still in one piece and he had not had to kill anyone. Gingerly he felt the cut in his arm and found that it had already stopped bleeding. He dug out a few herbs from his pack that would stop infection and rubbed them into the wound, wincing. For the first time in his life he was grateful for all those gruelling hours spent under the strict tutelage of the Master at Arms and he sent a silent thank you to the gruff man with the gravel voice whom he had once thought of as his arch nemesis.
Slowly he made his way towards the trees that were dark silhouettes against the halo of light emitted by the ever-glowing lamps that sat on the top of tall poles. The architecture changed and he found himself walking past small two storied buildings that looked like they could be someone's home. The trees turned out to be a narrow wooded area either side of a quietly flowing river. The woodland was well maintained with cut grass, benches and a marked pathway that ran beside the water. Thankfully there was no one about. Spying a likely bush with branches that hung so low they swept the ground he crawled into the alcove beneath them, wrapped himself in his blanket and instantly fell asleep.
Dawn was heralded by a loud, joyous chorus of bird calls, all of which were new to him. Most were very melodic but there was the odd raucous call that cut through the rest. The other noise was a steady hum, the origin of which he could not imagine. He was cold, stiff and hungry but his first priority was to relieve himself. Crawling out from his sanctuary he startled a man striding past on the path. The expression on his face was one of shock, quickly changing to one of disgust. Obviously sleeping under bushes was not the done thing here. Mind you, he admitted to himself, he would get the same reaction in any city back home in Feld. Giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile he brushed himself down, stretched and peered around for a likely place to pee. Afterward he sat down on the top of the stone wall embankment that ran along the nearby waterway, ate a sustaining breakfast of travel biscuit and water, and examined his surroundings more carefully.
It was clearly spring here. The trees were just coming into leaf bud and were a vibrant lime green. Some had blossoms of white or pink. Daffodils, which had pushed their way up through the grass, showed their yellow faces to the watery sun. The bush he had slept under had big glossy leaves and large tresses of purple flowers. All in all it was quite beautiful and reasonably peaceful. There was a constant stream of passers-by travelling in both directions along the path but they all seemed focused on their journey as if it were imperative to get to their destination as fast as possible. Very few were stopping to appreciate this lovely spot; in fact, he encountered many people dressed in tight fitting clothing, running, but no one took the slightest bit of notice of him. For the first time in his life he was anonymous, invisible, and it was quite a strange new sensation for him.
A steady thud, thud noise gradually grew louder and louder, until eventually it was almost deafening. Myssan crouched low scanning the area for its source. It was like nothing he had ever heard before. He could not see anything that could make this body vibrating sound anywhere and to make things more confusing the walkers did not even seem to notice it. A dark shadow passed across the water and, looking up, he saw something that resembled a giant dragonfly race by high overhead, gleaming as if it were metallic. Once it had passed the sound changed and then gradually faded. Myssan wondered in fascination if this was another mechanical carriage, one that flew! How wonderful would that be, he thought to himself incredulously. This world appeared to have replaced magic with machines.
Exciting as this all was, he was not here as a tourist and it was time he got his mind back onto the problem at hand. How was he going to find the charming, sad girl he had seen last night, now that she had virtually disappeared from his awareness? She had got under his skin and crawled into his mind and he found it hard to think of her without his heart quickening and his stomach doing a flip flop. He was not sure if this was because of the task she represented or that he found her so enticingly beautiful. Closing his eyes he concentrated hard and to his surprise he picked up the shard’s distinct signature immediately. It was incredibly faint yet, amazingly, it was growing stronger with each passing moment as if it were rapidly traveling towards him.
Quickly gathering all his things together and stuffing them into his pack he headed off, hoping to intercept her before she passed by. Things looked so different in the daylight. He could see that the streets were lined with trees that were all in new leaf bud. The metal carriages turned out to be of different colours and styles and, although they moved at incredible speed, they appeared to be well controlled, moving as if they were performing a well-rehearsed and choreographed dance. But it was the skyline that took his breath away. He had thought a building four stories high was tall but now he realized that this was a modest height for buildings in this world. Everywhere he looked he could see structures reaching for the sky. Some must have been at least twenty floors high. Unbelievable! How could they build them so high and why would they want to? It would take a person a lot of energy and time to climb to the top and what would they do once they got there? Once again he was baffled.
He retraced his steps from the night before and just as he reached the stair that plunged into the ground, the place where he had lost her last night, he felt the shard suddenly slow its head long rush and almost come to a stop. She was very close – in fact, as he watched the stairs he thought he could see her dark head ascending the steps once again. Yes, it was her alright! Where had she gone overnight? Why had she come back? He gave himself a little shake and chided himself roundly; these questions were not important now, the most important thing was not to lose her again. He had been lucky enough to be given a second chance and he didn't want to blow it this time round.
This morning there were so many more people cramming the walking path, spewing up the steps that led underground and pouring out of the big red, two-storied carriages that stopped regularly at the side of the road. It was difficult to keep track of his quarry as she quickly blended in with all the other heads, just one of many all determinedly walking to their preordained destinations. He could see, from his quick glimpses of her, that she was wearing similar
clothes to what she had been wearing the day before, all muted browns and blacks. This made her very hard to pick out of the crowd as most people seemed to be wearing dark clothes this morning. Pushing his way through the throng, he followed her. The crowds thinned as he rounded the corner and he could see her now, walking briskly just ahead of him. He began to run but she expertly slipped across the road, darting between the speeding carriages with ease. He was not so brave and waited at a set of lights for the vehicles to stop, frustrated, all the while desperately trying to keep her in sight.
“Come on. Come on,” he muttered under his breath, willing the lights to change and, as soon as the walking man light appeared, he sprinted after her. Steadily he closed the gap and, in fact, he had almost caught up to her when she disappeared into a large, angular, brick and glass building perched on a corner. Running the last few steps he came up against a wall of glass. There was no door! How had she entered? Peering through the glass he could see her climbing a zig zag, hanging staircase, taking two steps at a time. He moved along the glass wall hoping to keep her in sight. Suddenly the glass split open and slid apart, leaving a gap for him to pass through. Stopping to examine this new phenomenon was so tempting but finding the shard and its bearer was the priority at this moment in time. He strode through the atrium and raced up the stairs; however, she had eluded him once again and he had still not found her by the time he reached the top.
The only option left was to go through the double doors in front of him. Cautiously he pulled one open and peered through into a different world. He stared in wonder, because before him was the most amazing theatre he had ever seen. Three tiers of red, comfortable looking seats faced a wooden stage framed by huge velvet curtains and viewing boxes lined walls. The theatre was empty except for a few people milling about on the stage. Hoping to use this vantage point to be able to find the girl, he moved down the side aisle until he was able to lean over the balcony. It was a very long way down and his knees felt a little jelly-like at the sight.
There was no sign of her yet more and more people were ambling onto the stage. They came in small groups or individually, all dressed in tight leggings and tops. He noticed that they all looked very slim with well-defined muscle. A man came onto the front of the stage, pointed up into one of the viewing boxes, where Myssan could see a person sitting with strange looking earmuffs on, and suddenly the most exquisite music filled the theatre. It was all encompassing, wild and sad, pure and clear, each soaring note making a vivid impression. Myssan frantically searched for the musicians but to no avail. As if the music was a signal, all the people on stage formed up facing the man. It was then that he noticed her. He had not seen her before as she had been hidden in the shadows.
The man at the front clapped his hands and the music abruptly stopped. Everyone moved to a set position, some with arms up, some bending or reaching, singly or entwined, and then they paused as if frozen in time. The man – Myssan was calling him “The conductor” to himself – lifted his hand once more, held it there for a moment and then, theatrically let it drop. Instantly the lights dimmed and the music began again, from the beginning, and this time the people on stage began to dance. Myssan was spell bound. He had never seen dancing like this before. It was graceful, powerful and absolutely captivating. Different coloured lights began to play over the whole scene, illuminating one couple then switching to a man who appeared to be hanging from a crooked arm, swirling on one pointed toe before moving on to illuminate an empty spot that slowly filled with dancers moving as if they were wading through treacle.
As there was no audience, Myssan assumed that this was either a practice for a performance or a dance lesson. Either way it was fascinating to watch. When the spotlight fell on the girl, he stopped breathing. She was exquisite. Her fluid movements were at one with the music, her face shone with passion, no trace of sadness remained and she tugged at his heart like no one had ever done before. Watching her was such a bittersweet experience. How could he possibly persuade her to leave all this and come with him?
He sat mesmerized for a long time, soaking in the music and the spectacle of the dance, watching as they perfected every move. Time flew by, but eventually “the conductor” clapped his hands for the last time, the music died and the dancers began to collect their things and amble off the stage, deep in conversation. Myssan shook himself from his revere. Time to go – he needed to be outside, waiting for her to exit. It would be his best chance yet to get her attention.
He raced down the hanging stairs and stood in the large, airy auditorium, his eyes sweeping all possible entrances. One or two of the dancers sauntered out still deep in discussion but there was no sign of his quarry. Reaching for the shard he found that, frustratingly, it was no longer in the building, instead it was moving slowly, further and further away. She must have used another door. “Shit, Shit , Shit!” he muttered, beginning to despair that he would never be able to catch up with her. He turned and walked towards the solid glass wall which, once again, miraculously, slid silently open.
Myssan followed the lifeline connected to the shard down several streets and across another small park until he eventually found himself outside an old red brick building facing a large open wooden door. Cautiously climbing the steps he peeped inside and breathed a sigh of relief. It was a library. There was no mistaking the muted quiet, the smell of paper and leather and the rows of bound spines carefully placed on shelves. He instantly felt at home. The fact that he would not be able to read a word written here did not faze him at all.
Quietly he slipped inside and began to wander down one of the aisles between head-high shelves. He was close now. The shard was singing in his heart. The library was virtually deserted; there was only one woman peering at one of those strange lighted boxes upon a dark, polished wooden desk near the door. She had not even looked up when Myssan came in. Reaching a gap in the shelving and glancing sideways, he saw her quietly browsing a nearby shelf, hand extended, touching each title in turn as she searched for the book she wanted, bottom lip captured by her top teeth in concentration.
He felt his pulse quicken and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. She was even more beautiful at close quarters. She had incredibly long, dark, eyelashes, high, sloping cheekbones and an elfin beauty that totally captivated him. Absently he straightened his clothing and smoothed down his hair. He had never had to impress anyone before; however, a lot was riding on this and he felt really nervous.
Pretending to browse, he edged closer towards her until he was so close he could hear her breathing. She smelt of orange and cinnamon and it was intoxicating. “Come on, you can do this,” he told himself. Carefully he reached for the raw power of this world to enable him to project an air of comforting reassurance to the girl, but it was so hidden, so hard to grasp that it was like bobbing for apples. This world had almost completely lost any magic it might have once had. Concentrating hard he managed to hold onto a small amount and he just had to hope that it would be enough for what he needed.
Screwing up all his courage he took another deep breath and reached for her hand.
“Please don’t be afraid,” was all he could think at her before she snatched her hand away, glaring at him in silent accusation. That would be a “no” on the magic front, he told himself. He could see that she was about to either call loudly for help or deck him, but she had not made up her mind about which action to take just yet. Taking advantage of this momentary indecision, Myssan held up his hands and backed away a few steps trying to look as friendly and unthreatening as possible. Fortunately she did not run, instead a puzzled expression caused a small furrow to form on her brow and her hand absently brushed her shiny black hair back behind her ear. She was thinking. Myssan’s heart skipped a beat, it was such an endearing habit. She was clearly trying to work out how he had spoken into her mind.
Tentatively she took a small step towards him, her dark eyes glued to his. He stood as still as he could, waiting for her to make the next move. It was
like taming a wild animal, one false move and he would lose her. Everything hinged on the next few moments. After what felt like a life time, she spoke. Going by the intonation, it sounded like a question. He answered in his own language, hoping that she would realise that he could not understand her and then, daringly, he slowly reached out his hand, leaving it outstretched between them. Hesitantly, she lifted one finger and achingly, slowly, extended it until they were touching once more.
He was not sure what he expected. Maybe a flood of images or an insight into her mind but as with most things magical on this world everything was very muted and hard to grasp hold of. He was not used to this mind speak so he made sure to enunciate every word clearly as he thought it. “My name is Myssan.” This was not the time for his full title. “It is lovely to meet you.” Her eyes widened in surprise and a small smile tugged at her lips.
“How do you do?” she replied. “My name is Eva.” He sensed that this formal greeting was somehow humorous to her. She now placed two firm fingers on his hand and leaned forward, searching his face for clues. “How do you do this?” she thought at him.
Myssan blinked and furiously ran through all the possible answers before realizing that he needed to keep it clear and simple. “I’m not exactly sure myself,” he admitted. “This is the first time I have tried it.”
“Really?” she sounded impressed. A concerned expression fleetingly passed across her face. “You can’t see into my mind, can you?”
“No,” he answered, “I can only hear what you are deliberately projecting to me.”
She seemed relieved. “Why did you choose me to try this on?” She was full of questions and she was cutting to the point quickly. Glancing around she continued. “This is silly standing here. Why don’t we go and sit at one of those tables?”