The Median

by Nicholas House

seconds before sighing and shaking his head slightly, “though he does dabble in fields I wouldn’t dream of. He’s rather the eccentric, you see, so keep your wits about you,” he looked back up at the old chapel. “This is it, though,” added Richard flatly, “not much to look at, I realise, but that’s how he likes it. Always did,” he finished quietly before striding towards a doorway covered by a loose graffiti strewn board. He prised open the board, sheering loose sand grains from the wall which drifted down through the dust filled air. Stopping, he leant against the board, looking back at Michael. “So, are you coming?” he turned back to the chapel again and disappeared into the dark opening.

  Michael grinned gently and raced towards the doorway as Richard pushed open a secondary, much more stable, iron gate into a reasonably well lit chapel hall. The hall was gutted of everything that would have once defined it as any type of church. The pews, organ, pulpit; they had all been ripped out leaving a much larger space than the building should have presented. The walls were lined with lamps and bright spotlights stood over piles of crates making the chapel resemble more a warehouse than a house of worship. At the far end atop the alter step was a high backed wooden seat, a lone silhouette seated silently.

  Michael stepped forward quickly, peering at the figure but was harshly pushed back. “Why is he just sat there?”

  “He doesn’t sleep, just spends the whole night wandering,” replied Richard quietly.

  “But he’s just sat there,” he stepped back realising that even here he may be in danger.

  Richard slowly began to approach Lancer, his arms slightly outstretched as thought he were feeling for something ahead of him. “Just because he isn’t moving doesn’t mean he’s not off somewhere else,” he turned back to Michael for a second and smirked, knowing full well that he had thoroughly confused him, “problem is that he doesn’t muck like being disturbed,” he edged closer to the alter step, waving his arms all the way until his fingers suddenly sparked and ghostly waves drifted away from them. “Watch yourself,” he waved his arm back towards Michael with his other still pointing towards the chair, “he’s not the most agreeable person in the world.” In the chair Lancers eyes flicked towards Richard and two of the ghostly forms drifted down to his sides.

  “Your back,” the thick, dark, German accent quickly drew Richards attention back to the alter step, his eyes wide open, “I didn’t think you’d ever return.”

  “Well you know me,” said Richard as Michael approached cautiously, “not even you could ever predict me.”

  Lancer looked to Richards’s side at the scared lad coming up behind him and squinted at him before looking back. “This much I know to be true,” the ghosts drifted forwards and seemed to examine the interlopers briefly forcing Michael to become rigidly still before drifting away silently. “Come, Richard…And the prodigy,” he looked down to Richards side again, “after all, what else could he possibly be for you to bring him here, of all places,” Lancer flicked his eyes around the building and then down at the still figures. “Don’t be afraid, Rich, I suspect that anything I could do to you can’t possibly be as bad as whatever it is you actually want from me.”

  Richard reached forward and through where the barrier had previously been and took a tentative step up. He breathed a quiet sigh and took several, more confident, steps towards Lancer. “Maybe I had you wrong, maybe you can predict me.”

  “What is it you want, Richard?” he opened out his hands welcomingly, “such a long time, it must be something important for you to finally come back.”

  “I need to go there, Lancer. I need to go to the desert,” Richard stated quickly however much he wanted not to.

  Lancer grinned and pushed himself from the chair, starting to walk slowly forwards. “I never thought I would here those words from you, not again. You do realise what it entails, do you not?” he carried on knowing full well what the answer would be.

  “Yes, I remember. This is something that needs to be done, though,” he stared straight at Lancer who gazed back casually but suddenly stopped, flicking his eyes towards Michael.

  “The boy doesn’t know,” he began to walk to Richards’ side and tried to reach out but his arm was grabbed and pulled away sharply.

  “He knows enough,” he threw the seized arm aside and took a step in front of Michael.

  “Indeed he does but he neither understands why nor how,” Lancer rubbed his aged hands together turned back to Richard.

  “Do you?”

  “I know the only thing you could possibly find there was absence, an emptiness of loneliness beyond compare…Unless…” he turned around and started to walk back towards his chair, “…It is not? Are you hoping to find something there, my friend? Someone?” he chuckled faintly as Richard stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by Lancers arm being thrown up. “I know of this individual…In such desolation I feel any slightest disturbance,” he breathed in hard and seemed to savour the thought of the ‘disturbance.’ “And this was…” he closed his eyes and breathed deeply again, “so powerful.”

  Michael slowly placed a hand on Richards’ shoulder prompting him to turn quickly. “What does he mean he can feel the disturbance?”

  Richard spoke as quietly as he dared, not knowing exactly why but possessing a deep fear of Lancer. “He’s a Seer. They are the guardians of the Median World and they can see all who pass through it.”

  “Indeed we can!” stated Lancer loudly swinging around, “A whole world at our fingertips, such a wonderful thing you may think. It’s truly not,” he rushed back down towards the pair again, right up to stare Michael in the eye. “A world so full of emptiness, scratching at your senses every hour of every day-” he quickly turned to Richard, grasping his arms tightly. “You Medians have it easy! For me every second is a lifetime’s insanity, the endless void pouring through the consciousness of my sleepless nights!” he seemed to regain control of himself and pulled back, letting go of Richards arms, removing them as though he didn’t know how they got there, “then again you already know this…You’ve been there.”

  “And I need to go again,” Richard replied tentatively, “you said yourself she’s there. I need to bring her back.”

  Lancer shook his head and rubbed his face. “She is something else, you know I can’t even be sure on bringing you back let alone two of you,” he looked to the ground and shook his head again, “and even if I could, I don’t know if I should. It’s different, Rich…She is different.”

  Richard suddenly saw something glint in Lancers eyes and stepped towards him, looking closer. “You’ve felt it haven’t you? The presence in the border world.”

  “That is your jurisdiction, my friend; it has nothing to do with me,” he replied firmly, gritting his yellowed teeth.

  “Still, you know, you’ve felt him. He crossed the desert, didn’t he?” he thought for a second, “and you knew I’d come…For her…” he pointed an accusing finger sharply forwards. “Come on! You’re not stupid. Far from it! You know she’s in danger and it doesn’t matter whether she be here or the Other Side, the worse possible place she could be is the desert!”

  Lancer hung his head, wiping his face. “This presence you speak of. It is nothing like I’ve ever felt; such pure power and raw hatred, there’s not a Seer that couldn’t have felt it,” he raised his head and flicked his eyes between the two, “I heard it, Richard. I heard his thoughts as though they were my own…Such darkness…” tears began to drip from his face as he spoke, “The void filled with hatred and a haze of malice. He spoke of Christopher and the poles of balance; cause and effect, ying and yang, good and evil. Because of Chris, you’re his opposite.”

  Richard looked deep into Lancers eyes and saw something in them he had never seen from a Seer. He saw fear, unmitigated, unrelenting fear and he understood how deep it ran. If Millaian could do this to a Seer then he dared not think about what else he could do. “It’s alright. It’s alright to be scared, even for you,” he quickly l
ooked back to a near terrified Michael with bloodshot eyes, holding back his own fear and nodded reassuringly before looking back to Lancer, “but you have to help me bring her back. He’s out there, Lancer, with Chris’ body and she might be our only hope to stop him before he becomes powerful enough to do god only knows what to this reality.”

  Lancer stood up straight again, wiping the tears from his face and breathing in deeply. “Of course,” he stated flatly, casually raising an eyebrow and laughing shortly to himself, “I would be only too glad to oblige,” he began to walk off to a shadowed door at the side of the chapel hall.

  Richard put his hand on Michaels shoulder lightly and patted gently. “I have every faith in you. I know you’ll be able to do whatever you have to,” he patted Michaels shoulder again and started following Lancer but was rapidly stopped again.

  “Wait, do what? You’re not making any sense!”

  “It will do, don’t worry. For now, though, I think it would be better for you to stay out here. Don’t be afraid Lancer’s got this place pretty well protected. I think they should know you’re trust worthy enough by now,” he smiled and looked to the rafters before continuing to proceed to the side door.

  Michael slowly gazed upwards to the roof and couldn’t believe his