The Blurred Lands

by Ian W. Sainsbury

  Begin with intent. You have experienced magic, so you know how it feels when the power flows through you. You remember my metaphor of the stream? Your experience of magic, when you summon it, is like moving a stone in the stream to redirect the flow of water. There's a kind of passivity to the process. That passivity needs to be the focus of your intent. I did say it was difficult. You have to passionately desire a passionless state. Once you have established that desire, let it go. Don't push it away, let it fall.

  Over and over, half-close your eyes, establish intent, then let it go. Do it again and again until it makes you frustrated and angry. Then do it some more. Do it until you become so bored you forget what you're trying to do. Keep going, because you're getting close.

  Suddenly, you're there. You've slipped through. You're in the Between. You'll know you're there when you reach it. How? Put it this way. The Between, the place which isn't a place, the not-there, the place which is sometimes called the Unplace, is outside of time. It's utterly still, a vast, snowy plateau in the half-light of dusk, but it's a maelstrom of constant energy. You will feel as if you've arrived at the centre of the universe, the nucleus of the divine atom, the source of that which breathes all life into being.

  You can't miss it.

  A place is waiting for you. This is your sanctum. The word comes from the same roots as sanctuary, and you will feel protected there. But you don't belong in the Between, and you must not forget that. Never linger. Especially the first few times. To come back, picture your body as it was when you left it. The more details, the better. Imagine yourself back in that body. That's how you return.

  There's an awful wrench when you find yourself back. I've never got used to it, but it gets easier with practise.

  On a practical level, you will notice, I hope, after the bliss and the shock, that you have only been in the Between for seconds. Actually, no time passes there. It's only when you return that the clock starts ticking again. Practise getting back as fast as possible. Your Warden will tell you more about this when you meet him.

  The Between is always used to prepare strong magic. Skilful use of the Between is the most crucial aspect of our art. The greatest Adepts have been those who honed their skills there without getting lost. But some great magicians have never come back. Don't tarry, Evie. Once you've become an Adept, you can explore the Between. For now, just learn how to get there, and return immediately.

  The next bit is the hardest part. Sorry.

  I hope you didn't just screw up this letter and throw it away with a howl of frustration.

  Trust me, Evie, it's worth it. It's all worth it. I know I've emphasised the dangers and the responsibility, and I have admitted that magic—albeit very rare, powerful, dark magic—is killing me, but I hope you're not getting the impression that you won't have any fun. When you sang the word of power I gave you, the magic flowed through your blood, pulsed across your skin, lit up your brain with sheer delight, and... well, there are other side-effects it isn't appropriate for me to discuss with my great-granddaughter. You'll understand when you're older.

  Now for the hard part I mentioned. But only read on when you can reach the Between at will when your body and mind are relaxed. Now you must learn to get there when you are wide awake. To do this, incrementally increase the difficulty. Try accessing the Between a few minutes after you've woken up in the morning. Sit on the edge of your bed and go there. Once you've mastered that, try it standing up. Cover the floor with soft cushions. You'll fall over at first, but your body will adapt and you'll find you can stay upright until your return.

  Once you've mastered standing up, you need to try it while moving. Make a path in your room with cushions on either side. Make sure the path you lay out leads to your bed. After your first step, go to the Between. Try to return before your next step.

  Once you have mastered this indoors, do it while you're out. Not while you're crossing the street—safety first—but maybe while you're walking into class at school, surrounded by noise and distractions.

  Push yourself. It'll take time, but persevere. Because, one day, your life may depend on it.

  When you are in the Between, your body is unprotected. The charms which you will learn to sing into your skin are useless if you—that is, your essence—is not present. During that time, you're as vulnerable as any other human being. More so, as you cannot defend yourself.

  I don't want to scare you, Evie, but it would be irresponsible of me not to warn you that there will always be those who wish the Three harm. Always. This letter is a poor substitute for one-to-one training, but it will at least give you some preparation for what lies ahead.

  When you can visit and return within one exhalation, even under circumstances where you are surrounded by distractions, then you will be a formidable magician. Once you are an Adept, you will spend what seems like hours gathering power, crafting spells, preparing enchantments, but you will return within that single breath.

  My enemies grow stronger, and more confident. I held them off for so many years, but now they've breached my outer defences, it's only a matter of time. Already, some of my memories of the past few years have faded. I know that Sarah—your grandmother—died, but I don't recall when, or how. My time is short, but I'm exhausted. I will finish these letters tomorrow.

  Twenty-Seven

  When John arrived at the clearing, Gai wasn't there. John wasn't even sure he was in the right place. The fallen tree trunk was in the same place, but he remembered more ivy and moss covering it. There was no evidence of yesterday's fire.

  "The dime page or way skeep atone time."

  The voice came from above. John looked up. In the highest branch of the tallest tree, he spotted Gai's silhouetted form.

  "What?" John shouted.

  "I said..." The figure dropped from the branch and plummeted towards the ground. Instead of screaming as he headed for an impact that would cause serious injury or death, Gai sang. John could hear him, apparently unconcerned, the sound getting louder as he fell. Fifteen feet before impact, Gai threw his hands in front of him. A gust of wind came from nowhere, lifting twigs, grass, fallen leaves, bark and small stones from the ground as it blew directly upward. When all of his speed had been scrubbed away by the wind, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared and Gai dropped to the ground.

  He stood up, slapped the wide-eyed John on the arm and took a swig of mead from the bottle in his knapsack before offering it.

  "I said the time cage always keeps its own time."

  "What just happened? How did you—"

  "I was showing off," said Gai. "I shouldn't, really. Being young is no excuse. But it's fun. I imagine you were the same when you were... hang on, twelve moons is one of your years, right?"

  John, still bug-eyed, nodded.

  "Ten, twenty... yes. I bet you were rebellious in your seventies, correct?"

  John added an open mouth to his staring eyes. "You're... how old are you?"

  "Seventy-four by your reckoning. Oh, right. You don't live long, do you?"

  "It depends what you mean by long."

  "Well, my father is..." Gai closed his eyes, "... about fifteen hundred years old. But we experience time differently, so don't get jealous."

  "Fifteen hundred... and you're seventy-four?"

  "I am. Now, John Aviemore, here are the facts. You're trapped in here. Me too, it would seem. No noone is ever supposed to get this close to the cage. I thought the warnings were exaggerated. Tani and Obe trying to stop us having any fun."

  "Who?"

  "Tani and Obe? Noone royalty, or so they'd still have us believe. Our system of government is very old-fashioned. No time for politics though. I don't know how much time we have before Astarte makes her move, so I suggest we start on the lessons."

  "Who? What lessons? No. Stop. I want some answers."

  "Answers to what? I told you time is flexible here. We might have all day or only an hour. Look, tonight a god might try to suck your soul out of the top of
your head, steal your power and break back into the temporal world. Your questions can wait."

  John folded his arms and shook his head, hoping he was looking formidable and determined, but suspecting he looked like a sulky toddler who wouldn't use the potty until he got a biscuit.

  "What are the Blurred Lands? Who are the noones? What happened yesterday? I was here, then I wasn't. Am I dreaming now or is this real? What power am I supposed to have, what does Ash want with it, where's this bloody cage she's in, and are you seriously expecting me to believe she's a god?"

  Gai scowled up at John, paced up and down, then faced him again.

  "Sit down," he said, pointing at the log. "I will answer some of your questions, but you must shut up and listen. Then I will teach you magic. After the first lesson, I may answer another question or two."

  John sat down and waited. Gai sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him.

  "There are seven realms in the known universe."

  "Seven what?"

  "Realms. Don't interrupt."

  "But I can't let you talk about stuff that makes no sense. The known universe is made up of stars, planets, galaxies, black holes, er, dark matter. I'm no scientist, but we are exploring the universe with telescopes, probes, rockets. We have data."

  "Correction." Gai was holding up a finger. "Humans are not exploring the universe. They are exploring a universe. The universe you know is the realm we call Earth."

  John put his hands on the fallen tree, the gnarled, flaking bark comfortingly real as he crumbled it between his fingers. "The universe is one of seven?"

  Gai's lips twitched. "We know of seven realms."

  "And you come from another realm? Is that where I am now?"

  "Yes, I come from another realm, but that's not where we are now. We're in the Blurred Lands. And, for thousands of years, the time cage has been here. Astarte—Ashtoreth—is its prisoner."

  "But..."

  Gai shook his head. "No. This won't work if you keep interrupting. Quiet."

  John heard the irritation in the tone of his companion. He thought about the disappearing city and the impossible dreams. He shut up.

  "Good," said Gai. "There are seven realms. Thinking in terms of physical location doesn't reflect the reality, but it is useful to imagine some being 'closer together' than others. My realm is Da Luan. The dominant species of my realm, which also contains remnants and elementals, is the noones. There have been countless encounters between humans and noones in the Blurred Lands over the centuries."

  Gai stood up and stretched like a cat. "Even our name—noone—comes from your language."

  John couldn't stop himself. "How do you know English?"

  "Those of us who wish to explore our neighbouring realm must know the language. It only take one trip to the Between to learn it after all."

  John hoped Gai wasn't going to speak in riddles all day, but he stopped himself interrupting.

  "Northern Europe has always been a well-used border. But your people have forgotten us over the last five thousand years. Hence the name. Noone. No one. It comes from the time when the realms were still withdrawing from each other. If a human met one of us, un-Glamoured, deep in the forest, we would use a charm of confusion before sending them home. What happened in the forest? Who did you meet? No one. Noone."

  One patch of the fog clouding John's mind thinned for a second. Gai's diminutive stature, the magic, the carved wooden whistle. "Wait?" he said, "are you a fairy?"

  Gai glared at him. "Did you just call me a fucking fairy?"

  "Sorry, Gai, it's just that, well, er, with you being, um..." John's voice trailed away.

  "Being what? Small? Found in wooded areas? Does that make me a fairy? Or a pixie, or a leprechaun? Do you think we have nothing better to do than to steal children and to dance around toadstools all night?"

  "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I thought..."

  "You thought. Spare me your prejudices. A noone hardly ever takes a human child these days. We're very strict about that kind of thing. And why shouldn't we dance around toadstools? Some of them have remarkable magical properties. Don't judge."

  John took in what he had just heard. "I was right? You are a f—"

  Gai made a sound like a musical grunt, and John was pushed backwards. It felt like he'd been kicked. The force of the blow was so hard that he travelled six feet in the air before landing on his back. The impact winded him, and he rolled onto his side, wheezing.

  Gai jumped up onto the recently vacated log. His fists were bunched, and the expression on his face was half-fury, half-something else. Surprise, maybe. John didn't have much time to speculate, because the noone grunted again, and he was flung a few more feet across the clearing. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath.

  Gai jumped from the log. "Interesting," he said. "My father's hypothesis was right. It makes sense now, Astarte coming after you. Ah, the famous pride of the Wardens and the Adepts. So wise, the self-appointed guardians of esoteric knowledge. They didn't listen to my father, told him he was wasting his time studying human science. Ha!"

  John caught his breath. "Gai. I'm sorry if I upset you."

  Gai flashed a tiny, mischievous smile. "Defend yourself," he whispered, then grunted again.

  "No!" John was lifted into the air and thrown backwards. He was glad it was early summer, and the ground was soft. Frozen ground would have broken his knees when they took the brunt of the impact. He yelped in pain.

  Gai walked unhurriedly towards him. "Humans have met noones in so many forms. The bad ones get respect. Ghosts, poltergeists, shapeshifters, vampires, djinn, incubi. But the ones who are friendly? Well, mostly friendly? All right, occasionally friendly. You call them fairies. Pretty little winged arseholes in gauze dresses fluttering around the flowers and talking shite since the dark ages. Defend yourself."

  "What? How? Agh!" John had got to his feet when his legs were swept from under him, and he fell back to the ground. His shoulder hit first, and he screamed. He knew an impact that heavy must have broken something. He sat up, cradling his left arm, wondering how the hell he would get to a doctor when he was trapped in Leigh Woods with a violent fairy and a vengeful god.

  Gai was implacable. "Defend yourself," he whispered, and drew breath for another of his malicious grunts.

  As Gai made a sound in his throat, John did the same. He coughed out a sound somewhere between a paper tear and the howl of a chimpanzee. Gai was thrown up and into the trees at such speed, it looked like he had vanished. Only the sound of breaking branches as he tore his way through the old oak gave any clue to where he was.

  John stood up, still holding his arm. He walked over to the oak at the edge of the clearing. Gai was now falling back through the branches, crying out as he hit each one, turning uncontrollably in the air as he tumbled.

  "Ow! Argh! No! Ugh! Ooh! Agh! Plea—ow!"

  There was no magical gust of wind to break his fall this time, and he hit the ground, crumpling into a heap of limbs.

  John approached cautiously. "Gai?" He moved closer, bending to get a better idea of which bits of the mess were arms, legs, torso, or head. "Are you all right?"

  "Bloody stupid question, human." Perhaps Gai's injuries weren't as bad as they looked. "What do you think?"

  Gai rolled onto one side, then sat up. John stared at the noone as he brushed leaves, twigs, and dirt from his face and neck. No blood. No broken bones. He looked like he'd tripped while walking, not fallen twenty feet through the branches of a tree.

  Gai stood up and slapped John on his broken arm. John flinched and gasped, waiting for the pain. It didn't come. He looked at his arm and gingerly moved it across his body, then down to his side. There was no break. No sign of any injury.

  He looked at Gai, who was rummaging around in his bag. He pulled out a full bottle.

  "Drink?" said Gai.

  "Yep," said John.

  Twenty-Eight

  When darkness came
, it did so with the speed of an eclipse. John had stepped between the trees to urinate when it happened. He zipped up his trousers and hurried back, but Gai had gone, along with the clearing. In their place was the cottage. He turned his back on it and walked away. A dozen steps later, the iron gate loomed up in front of him.

  "This is ridiculous." John squared his shoulders, lifted the latch, walked up the path and entered the cottage. Whatever was happening, he would not let it beat him. He would stay in control.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, he heard it; the sound of movement upstairs, the creak of springs as the bed took someone's weight.

  No. Just the natural expanding and contracting of old wooden floorboards. Nothing else.

  "John."

  He recognised her voice, but pretended he hadn't heard it. He couldn't have heard it. Ash was dead.

  "John."

  Knowing there was only one way to find out, John then did what Sarah had told every character in every horror film he'd made her sit through not to do. He walked upstairs. He did it quickly, making no attempt to be quiet, turning left at the top, and striding up to the bedroom door. He flung it open it forcefully, saying, "hah!" as he did so, in an attempt to dispel his fear.

  It didn't work, partly because saying, "hah!" has no proven effect on fear, but mostly because Ash was sitting on the bed.

  For a dead woman in her sixties, Ash looked good. More than good, John admitted. She looked amazing. Age, or death, had not altered her in the slightest from the alluring, inviting, irresistible woman she'd been when he'd first met her.

  Well, that wasn't quite true, John conceded as Ash brushed back the copper hair that was obscuring one of her deep, mocking green eyes. She wasn't irresistible anymore. Not to him, at any rate. Although, he conceded, she was still an adolescent male's wet dream.

  John stood in the doorway. The bedroom was carpeted as it had been during the nights he had visited her in the eighties. His new paint had gone, replaced by the cloying pink-purple beneath. The room was lit by candles and oil lamps hanging from hooks under the old beams. Heavy brocade curtains hung at the window. The bed was unmade, the dark satin sheets pushed aside as if Ash had just woken up.