The Harbinger

by Candace Wondrak

  With New York City’s traffic, it actually took them over two hours to get there. Students were clamoring to get off the bus as soon as it rolled to a stop in front of the newly-built gateway building. Its outer sides held carved marble statues of all the races that called the Second home: pretty Elves that put all Earth models to shame, the animal-like Malus, the stoic Ulen with their sharp features, and the intimidating, horned Dracon. There were other races, but those were the Four Kingdoms, the most prolific. The Dwarven and the Fae had mostly settled into living lives on Earth, due to the destruction of their homes in the Second.

  Because Humans weren’t the only power-hungry race out there, it seemed.

  The fifth years were ushered inside by their teacher and their chaperone, and the moment they stepped inside the giant gateway building, they were met with a bustling, busy room. Half the size of a football field, full of all different kinds of races, mostly Human and Elven, with a few Fae sprinkled in, with stalls of wares. Like a multicultural mall.

  “This way to the gateway,” the teacher shouted above them, gesturing to the large archway towards the back of the great, open room.

  Cara was glued to Faith’s side as they made their way to the elevators. They went to the lowest floor, the most protected. It took two separate elevator rides to get all the students down, and thirty minutes to pass security.

  The gateway itself stood attached to a wall in a room very similar to the one above, though completely empty, save for the security stations and itself. An unassuming thing, just stonework built into a circular arch. Faith had never seen a gateway up-close before that wasn’t a flat picture, and she wondered just how something like that could work.

  There was one key difference between a gateway and a portal. Gateways were always there, built into old masonry. A little magic and pop—they opened right up. Before the sixties, gateways were harder to open—nearly impossible. Portals were illegal, could open anywhere without the aid of grounding stones, but they needed a lot more magic because of it. Didn’t stop the criminals from trying, though.

  Beside the gateway stood a tall, fair Fae lady. Her eyes were bulbous and wide, pinkish in hue. Her nose was two sizes too small, but on her thin figure it somehow worked. Her hair, a luscious, straight-up white, fell all the way to her butt. She was gorgeous. She was the gatekeeper. Without her magic, it would remain shut. Her light, pink eyes fell upon Faith, and for a moment, Faith wondered if her grandma was right about women’s hands.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as the rest of the class murmured something about the gatekeeper’s looks. Boy or girl, straight, gay or somewhere in between; the Fae’s looks enraptured them all.

  “I wish I had pink eye,” Cara said sluggishly. “Eyes, I mean. Pink eyes. Not the infection.”

  The teacher was the first to approach the Gatekeeper, and he fumbled as he handed her the necessary papers.

  She barely glanced at them, instead turning her curious, pink stare to the crowd of students. “If anyone is unsure of the journey, please, do not step through the gateway. Once you are in the Springsweet, you will not return until your slated date.” The Fae woman waited a moment; no one stepped out of line. No one wanted to. Everyone was dying to go through, to see what the Second was really like. “Very well. Your escort awaits you on the other side. I bid you farewell…and good luck.” She winked, causing half of the class to swoon.

  Faith and Cara huddled together as they watched the gatekeeper do her job. She returned to the stone’s side, set her long, slender fingers on the gateway’s frame and closed her brightly-colored eyes. Within a second it flared to life and a breach between worlds was born. A mirror of sorts, shimmering and vibrant with natural colors that didn’t exist in New York. The Second sat beyond it, its green grass waiting for them.

  The two girls met eyes, exchanging excited glances.

  Faith had no idea what the Second had in store for her.

  Chapter Four

  The Second was just as it was described in the books. No technology was allowed, and if students brought phones and laptops, they wouldn’t work. Greenery, everywhere, flower vines sprouting, even on the sides of buildings and on rooftops. Temperate, balmy weather that put New York City’s pave paradise to shame. Little, domesticated animals that looked like a mixture between a dog and a pig, with huge, exaggeratingly big ears.

  This wasn’t the whole of the Second. There were other kingdoms, other races who did not like playing house with the Humans. But Faith didn’t care about them. All she cared about was making the most of her time in the Springsweet, the capital of the Elven kingdom.

  And, boy, was it sweet.

  Each house had its own spring, their waters crystal clear, with multi-colored fish with long, flowing tails. No building was over three stories high, save for the castle, which only seemed so tall because it was built on the hill overlooking the town. Beneath the vines that clung to every side of each building, the stonework was all white, all bright, all so organic and clean.

  The students and their teacher came out of the gateway that was in the castle’s courtyard. The gateway’s side in the Second was a lot more impressive than the one in the basement in New York. Pillars sprouted from the ground, ancient runes carved into them, butterflies with giant wings landing on its curved edges. The gateway itself was already closed, now simply a decorative archway until it was activated again by either side. Two stoic Elven guards stood at attention on its left and right, ready to stop any unauthorized travelers. They were also the ones who sent messages to and from the Second.

  Faith glanced to the castle behind them, at its towers and the grand staircase that wound up from both sides to the castle’s shimmering front doors. She doubted any of them would get the chance to step inside the castle, but maybe, if she was lucky enough, she’d be able to sneak out at night and…

  Cara spun around, cutting into her planning, “Wow. It’s beautiful.” She wasn’t the only one who said it.

  That’s when Faith noticed the group of Elves standing near them, their heads held high and their expressions guarded. From a first glance, she decided, she did not like them, for they did not seem to like her and her classmates. It was the famous Elven hospitality.

  And that was sarcasm.

  One Elf in particular caught Faith’s eye. He stood in the front of the group, surveying each student with disdain in his deep blue eyes. His hair was a light yellow, cut short in the way that she heard was popular among Elven warriors. A bow clung to his back. He was tall; they all were. Definitely over six feet.

  “This is what can be if you treat nature correctly,” the blonde Elf spoke snidely, turning to face the teacher, who was clearly the eldest of the group. “Welcome to the Springsweet of Alyna. Anything you have packed to bring will be brought across while we commence. We waste no time here. We will break off into the pre-chosen groups and start your shadowing today. Only ask of your mentor things that deal with his or her trade. Any other questions—” There was a pause as he frowned, a strange sight on such a pretty man. “—can wait until the gathering, which we will have every night. As it is the first time for some of our tutors, I expect that if they should have questions in return, you will do your best to explain. This is not a fun trip. This is a trip where we learn more about each other. Learn to live in harmony.”

  Faith looked to Cara, pursing her lips. The Elf didn’t sound like he wanted harmony. But Cara was too engrossed, staring with wide eyes at the pretty specimen before them. Faith definitely had to have a talking with her as soon as she could. Cara couldn’t go through this entire trip slack-jawed and weak at the knees.

  The Elf continued to explain, introducing his comrades—a mixture of beautiful men and women who didn’t look a day over thirty—who were apparently the tutors the fifth years were going to follow, depending on which thing they signed up for. Faith tuned out after he introduced the Elf in charge of the apothecary students; a pretty woman with a long, flowing dress and an equally long name t
hat Faith would never remember, nor would she try to.

  Turning her gaze back to the castle, Faith studied it more. A gust of wind blew past her, and a tingling sensation crept up her arms beneath her long sleeves. Her Victi itched, but she dared not draw attention to herself and her illegally-gotten tattoos. The Elven knew as much about Victus as any person in the Academy. Plus, with her streak, they’d tattle on her like Finn did.

  A chill grew on her spine, causing her to shiver for a moment in spite of the warm, unobstructed sun overhead. Faith felt an elbow on her side, turning to attention to find that the blonde Elf singled her out.

  Of course. She wasn’t even here an hour yet and she was already going to get in trouble.

  “You. Repeat what I said,” he commanded, his level of sternness matched by only her mother and Tullie back home.

  “Welcome, welcome, here’s my boring introduction. Don’t worry, though, I promise things’ll get funner around here, starting when I leave, because I bring a foul attitude anywhere I go,” Faith rattled off, which admittedly was probably not the best thing to do. Around her a few of her classmates laughed.

  “Ooh, a funny one. I pity the tutor you’ll be spending the next seven days with.”

  Faith would’ve given him the finger, but she wasn’t certain that he’d know what it meant, so she settled with a shrug.

  Chapter Five

  Weylon Lightfoot should not have said that. He knew it the moment it came from his mouth. This was his punishment for bad mouthing the Humans to the traveling merchants, and this was his last go of it. If he messed it up, who knew what the Court would make him do. Hopefully not a permanent place, stationed with the ugly, smelly Humans.

  Such short and stout things they were. It never ceased to amaze him how hideous they were, with their tiny statures and their small eyes. And these were the brightest and best of the Human race? The ones destined to thwart otherworldly occurrences on their Earth? He shuddered to think just what the normal Human looked like.

  As his awful luck would have it, the funny one was in his group, he found out after they began breaking off. By the look on her face, she wasn’t thrilled about it either. The next seven days of his life, spent with these…these things?

  It was going to be an excruciatingly long seven days.

  “All right, hunters,” Light used the word demeaningly, knowing none of the children before him would ever amount to a true hunter. “Let’s get going.” He spun on his heel, starting down the pathway away from the castle, following behind the other groups who already left.

  A group of four followed him. A pathetic group, considering the pack of a dozen that left with Shar’lynna. Three males and the funny one.

  He could do this.

  No problem.

  As they passed the high walls that surrounded the castle, the funny one was suddenly beside him, asking, “I think I signed up for this on accident. You see, I’m really supposed to be with the apothecary.”

  “Unfortunately for the both of us, you are stuck with me, as they say.” Light hurried to walk ahead of her, feeling the strange urge to bathe. Their body odor was going to catch on him if he wasn’t careful.

  He pointedly ignored her comment about getting ready for a week of hell. Light wasn’t even sure what a week of hell was.

  He would soon find out.

  The Humans might’ve been good with their automated weapons, with their guns and bullets and such, but in Alyna, such things were of rare occurrence. Here, the hunters used bows. The ones who hunted things that were not gentle herbivores used crossbows.

  Light took his group of smelly Humans through the village, ignoring the wistful look that grew on the girl’s face as they passed the apothecary's store. Just outside the village, which had no true barrier, for the forest was just as part of the village as civilization was, he had set up a small testing area. A few straw targets, a few unstrung bows, and a few other things, like examples of footprints on vellum.

  Today, he would gauge just how miserable his week was going to be.

  “All right. I’ll take you one by one and help you string your bow, and then a bit of target practice. While that is happening, I want the rest of you to study the tracks over there.” Light could hear the indifference and disinterest in his own voice as he said, “Today and tomorrow, you’ll do your best to master the art of shooting. Then I will teach you how to track. Then you’ll pair off into groups and try to track me through the forest, and after that, I’ll have you track one of the hyll from Swingsweet. On the final two days, you’ll go off on your own and hunt. Whoever brings me the most impressive trophy will get a recommendation.”

  Three pairs of excited eyes hung on every word he said, while the fourth pair, the one belonging to the girl who thought herself so funny, stared off into the distance.

  Just for that, he’d teach her how to shoot last.

  After choosing a male and instructing him to choose a bow and a string, Light did his best to teach. Even after a few times doing this, he was not a teacher; he was always a much better student. He learned fast, adapted quickly, though he still wasn’t thrilled about Humans coming into his world. This was his world, after all. Not theirs.

  But no, Humans had to poke their heads in where they didn’t belong. That was how wars started, how the Seven Kingdoms became Four, how an entire race vanished because a Human rallied against them and their leader.

  Eons ago, when the Dread King was merely the High King of the Dracon, when the Fae lived in their flatlands and the Dwarven near their mountains, the first man found a gateway in his land. The first Human came through and from that day henceforth, he was known as the Harbinger. Legends say he wanted nothing more than to conquer, and those who opposed him would fail.

  The Dracons, too high and mighty to fight their own wars, enlisted the Orcs, who loved the thrill of the fight. The Orcs were wiped out, their kingdom burned to ash, along with the Dracon’s first High King. It was not the last time a Harbinger came, and it was not the last time the Dread King returned to wreak vengeance against those who wished to change the natural order.

  Light wasn’t sure if he agreed with the Dread King’s message, but he did agree that Humans overstepped their bounds. And they did it constantly. It was only because of the rule of the Court that the Elven were peaceful and sympathetic toward the Human plight for knowledge, though they would not stand for any Human walking through a gateway and stating that he or she owned the land they stepped on.

  The three males that had chosen willingly to follow in a hunter’s footsteps for a week were strong enough to string their bows, though their aiming power left much to be desired. On average, they hit their targets about one in…five.

  Awful. Terrible. Light was aghast that these were supposed to be humanity’s so-called protectors.

  When he was done with the men, he turned toward the final participant in his seven-day extravaganza. She was on her back, laying the sun, one arm draped across her face to shield her eyes from the light.

  Was she sleeping?

  Light was purposefully as quiet as he could be—which was near soundless—as he picked up the final unstrung bow and dropped it unceremoniously on her, landing it right on her stomach.

  She jerked awake, blinking half a dozen times as she stared up at him. Her irises were of a pure, untainted green. They seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. They were only a level or two of intensity away from being exactly like Elven or Fae eyes. Their color…wasn’t ugly.

  “That was rude,” she said, grabbing the bow and getting to her tiny feet. How did she walk on those?

  “Perhaps you should not have fallen asleep during my lesson,” Light spoke, irate.

  “Perhaps your lesson should not have been so boring,” she chimed, running a hand through her hair, which seemed more red than brown in the sun. “It’s memorization, buddy. Not that hard. It’s actually something I’m kind of good at.” She walked away from the two males who sat near her, studying the vellum, pas
t the third who returned to the group after taking out the few of his arrows that made their target. “Now teach me how to shoot.”

  Light smiled as he crossed his arms, the leather on his chest tight as he commanded, “I’ve already attached the bottom of the string. All you have to do is finish stringing it. It shouldn’t be too hard, since you seem to be so good at everything.”

  Her bright green stare squinted at him, and for a quick moment, her eyes fell to his feet, traveling up him like she studied each part of his appearance. She stared at him too intently for his liking. Turning her back to him, she whispered, “Trust me, I’m not good at everything.” Her words probably had a hidden meaning, but Light did not care to inquire.

  He watched her shoulders hunch as she sought to bend the bow—wrongly, of course—and somehow get the string to settle in the handmade notches Light had carved in them. He’d made all of the materials himself—yet another one of his punishments from the Court. That’s how he saw it, anyway.

  After he laughed out loud, Light said, “Perhaps the funny one is not as strong as she thinks she is?”

  She whirled to him, glowering, though the stern look did not reach her eyes. She didn’t really care about succeeding here, he could tell. “I never said I was strong. And my name—so you can stop calling me the funny one—is Faith.”

  Faith.

  He’d have to make certain he tried hard to not remember it, because he didn’t care.

  Time crept by, and it was clear the men who’d already strung and shot their bows had finished memorizing the day’s tracks, so Light whistled loudly. The girl jumped, the bowstring falling to the grass as she glared at him and muttered something about almost having it until he messed it up.

  A brightly-colored hyll from the village came running over, its body no taller than his knees. Its main colors were yellow and orange, though depending on the weather, it changed a bit. Four legs, short tails, huge, billowy ears, long snouts with tiny but sharp teeth; they were the perfect domesticated animal. Their hearing was unmatched in the Elven kingdom, for evident reasons. And they were more intelligent than some Humans, clearly.