The Traveller's Stone

by S J Howland

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Embert. ‘We’ll need to explore when this behaviour first manifested itself and hopefully we can then find out what triggered it.’

  I know what triggered it, thought Xander, or rather who was the trigger; the man that only he and Simm could see. He watched as Simm shifted position to draw on a different section of wall.

  ‘Weird,’ said Ollie suddenly. ‘Look at where he was before. If you look at it sideways, it almost looks like you can make out a face in all that scribbling.’

  He lifted a hand to point, but Xander had already seen it and a sudden chill prickled his spine. Perfectly represented out of hundreds of number eights was Gage’s face, staring out of the wall with that familiar malevolent look. Xander flinched and looked away, only to meet the perceptive gaze of Healer Embert.

  ‘You recognise him,’ he said gently.

  Xander nodded. ‘He was always with Simm but no-one else could see him. He brought the shades last night, and I think he did this to Simm.’ He looked down at the floor, not wanting to see the predictable disbelief. Embert reached over and touched his arm.

  ‘He frightened you, this man you saw?’

  Xander’s head jerked up to find the kind brown eyes regarding him with quiet compassion. ‘You believe me?’ he said, surprised that he knew with certainty this was true.

  ‘I do,’ said the healer. ‘In the course of my practice I have seen too many strange things to put all of my faith in the material world.’

  Mrs Stanton looked sceptical and Embert grinned at her, as if he was acknowledging a long-standing debate between them.

  ‘My dear Thea, you are a most excellent healer, combating issues of flesh and blood and successfully knitting them back into good working order. On our side however, we frequently wrestle with matters of the soul and the spirit. Less tangible but, in the end, no less real.’

  Mrs Stanton rolled her eyes good-humouredly at him but didn’t argue further.

  Xander took a breath.

  ‘If it helps, the man’s name is Gage.’

  In the room, the humming stopped. Simm froze and then slowly pivoted on his heels, still in a crouch on the floor. He stared straight at Xander as if the door was not there, with eyes that burned with sudden intensity, and then hissed, a shockingly loud sound. Xander took a hurried step backwards.

  ‘I thought you said that he couldn’t see or hear us?’ said Ollie, shakily.

  ‘He can’t,’ said Embert, his voice puzzled. ‘Although this is certainly very strange.’

  As abruptly as he had turned, Simm went back to his drawing, his fingers moving ceaselessly, round and round in figures of eight. The humming started up again. Xander took a shuddering breath and decided that he would be very happy if he never laid eyes on Simm again.

  ‘Very odd,’ repeated Embert, then seemed to recall himself and smiled at Mrs Stanton. ‘I hope that your mind is at rest on his physical health. I’ll be delighted to keep you updated on his progress, if you would like.’ As he spoke, he touched the door again, and it reverted back to its previous opaque appearance; the humming cut off. Xander’s shoulders sagged in relief.

  Mrs Stanton said something in response and the two healers turned back towards the staircase, chatting easily. Xander hurried after them, wanting to get far away from room 212 and this strange, muffled building where the silence seemed suddenly deafening.

  ‘That was seriously weird,’ muttered Ollie.

  ‘Yep,’ said Xander shortly. He really didn’t want to talk about it. Ollie appeared to get the hint and didn’t make any further comments.

  Healer Embert bade them a cheerful goodbye at the top of the stairs, and then turned away as another healer waved a clipboard at him. Xander hurried down the stairs, his steps getting faster and faster, dashed through the reception hall and practically burst out of the large front door into the sunny street outside. He took several deep breaths.

  A moment later, Mrs Stanton emerged, Ollie just behind, and she looked sympathetically at Xander before slipping an arm through his and steering them away from the Centre.

  ‘It is a strange place,’ she said gently. ‘They do incredible work there, but it’s understandable to feel a little uncomfortable. Many people do.’

  Xander felt warmed by her obvious concern for him.

  ‘I’m okay,’ he said, and Mrs Stanton squeezed his arm.

  ‘Good,’ she said, resuming her usual brisk tone, ‘because it’s high time that we got to your party. Flint will be fretting that you’re getting into adventures again. Will you do the honours?’

  ‘Huh?’ said Xander, looking baffled.

  ‘We need to get there, and I believe that you are the only Traveller in the vicinity,’ replied Mrs Stanton in an amused voice.

  Xander felt a sudden flush of happiness and a huge smile spread across his face. With a small flourish, he offered an arm to Ollie and Mrs Stanton. ‘My pleasure,’ he said and, as they laid a hand each on his forearm, he leant confidently into the power of his orb and felt the now familiar lurch of his stomach as space bent itself around him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  That evening was one of the best that Xander had ever spent. From the moment they arrived at the Lodge, where the bonfires were already ablaze, he was greeted with welcoming shouts and warm smiles from the many Travellers who were already there. Xander saw that quite a number of them had suffered injuries from the shade incursions, but everyone joined in the festivities with the same air of happiness and relief. Mouth-watering smells were drifting over from the cooking station, while the sounds of assorted instruments arose from near the Lodge as musicians experimented with various tunes, some gently melodic and others more swinging. Children dashed around, shouting to each other while the adults smiled indulgently. Many of the children gazed wide-eyed at Xander and the bolder ones called out ‘Hi, Xander’ to him, to the obvious admiration of their shyer companions. Xander smiled at them all, feeling a deep well of happiness brimming up inside him.

  Zach, Milo and the other younger Travellers hurried forward to meet them and Milo flung a friendly arm around Xander’s shoulders, drawing him into their group as they all clamoured eagerly for inside information.

  ‘How d’you know where to go?’

  ‘Did those two Liaison blokes really lose their minds and try to kill you?’

  ‘Were there seriously thousands of shades there waiting for you?’

  Xander suddenly noticed that Ollie was hanging back a little, swept aside by the press of numbers, and he paused.

  ‘If you want to know about shades,’ he said firmly to them all, turning around to gesture to Ollie, ‘you need to talk to this guy. He held off a wall of them from him and Len, all by himself with only a busted synthetic orb.’

  ‘Seriously?’ asked Tomas in surprise, while they all turned to stare at Ollie who flushed, shuffling his feet, before nodding awkwardly. ‘Wow, that’s amazing.’

  Ollie’s face broke into a grin.

  ‘Terrifying, is what it was,’ he said frankly. ‘I thought we were goners, for sure.’

  ‘Wow,’ repeated Zach, sounding awed and rather envious of the near-death experience. The group immediately shifted to encompass Ollie as well, bombarding him with questions, and Xander smiled to himself.

  Food was pressed on them from all sides, and everyone was keen to hear about how the Wardens had faced down the Council. There was general amusement about Melville, Larcius and Thorne and how they had been out-smarted, and then they all wanted the details of the events at the Pavilions and how the Core had been reactivated. Xander felt rather shy about recounting it all, but Ollie had no such reticence and told the story with great relish several times over. He did not linger on, or embellish, the part about the lightning storm from Xander’s orb obliterating the shades, but Xander caught several thoughtful looks from the Wardens at this point, and tried to look as innocuous as possible. He really didn’t need them worrying about whether he had any ambitions to move to Mount Olympu
s and set himself up as a god on his return.

  As he sat cross-legged in the middle of the group, the light and warmth of the fire washing over his face, Xander could hardly believe that only a few weeks ago he had been a stranger here, the Traveller community closed to him as to any other outsider. In the Council chamber they had come for him, accepted and defended him as one of their own, and Xander could not stop himself from smiling in the warm glow of belonging.

  Later, when a group of enthusiastic singers had joined the musicians and people were reduced to picking at the left-overs of the feast, Xander wandered over to a big old log and sat down. He was flanked by Ollie and Len, who in her usual manner had only reappeared once the initial hubbub had died down, and he warmed his feet by the flickering flames of the bonfire. Len was gazing up at the starry sky thoughtfully.

  ‘I can’t believe we actually did it,’ she said suddenly. ‘It’s a bit sad, really.’

  Xander swivelled around to gape at her, open-mouthed.

  ‘Seriously?’ he said incredulously.

  ‘Well, not exactly sad,’ allowed Len, and then shrugged. ‘It was all just really exciting, and now everything will go back to being boring and normal.’

  Xander sputtered with disbelief. ‘I’m quite happy with boring and normal, thank you very much,’ he said fervently. ‘Getting chased around by shades and nearly dying isn’t my idea of great fun.’

  Ollie swallowed his latest mouthful with some effort.

  ‘Too right,’ he said but then added pensively, ‘I have a feeling that it isn’t exactly over though. There are still a lot of unexplained things on our list.’

  Len sat up immediately, her eyes bright, but Xander just laughed.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But not tonight, okay?’

  ‘Not plotting any more wild adventures, I hope,’ said a jolly voice from behind them. All three jumped slightly and turned, a little guiltily, to see the beaming face of Jory Bardolph, his white hair glowing in the firelight and looking wilder than ever. With him were Ari, Rafe, the neat dark figure of Kirrin Ledger and Flint, while a group of the younger Travellers gathered to sprawl around the fire.

  ‘What’s not tonight?’ Flint demanded, a suspicious tone creeping into his voice.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Xander and Ollie at the same time, and then grinned at one another.

  ‘I hope so,’ growled Flint, but Jory Bardolph just chuckled.

  ‘Budge up, kids and let a little one squeeze in there,’ he said, plumping himself down on the log between Xander and Ollie with a grunt. ‘Don’t you listen to Flint. He’s one to talk. Have I ever told you about what an unruly young man he was when he was your age? Never knew where we had him, always in the thick of trouble.’

  Bardolph’s eyes twinkled as he looked around the younger ones, who all leaned towards him eagerly.

  ‘Why, no, you haven’t told us,’ said Len, with a wicked grin. ‘We’d love to hear about it.’

  Flint sent an exasperated look at the laughing Warden and then shrugged. ‘If you want to believe a word of it,’ he snorted. ‘He’s getting a bit confused in his old age.’

  Bardolph just laughed harder.

  ‘You wish,’ he chortled, and Flint rolled his eyes and gave up the argument.

  From his place in the centre of the lively group, while Bardolph spun a wildly embellished tale of how Flint and his fellow mischief-makers had used their newfound abilities with their orbs to switch the guide-stones of the six most-used Lodges, causing absolute havoc, Xander once more found himself wishing that he could stay in this moment forever.

  *

  The next couple of days passed in a blur for Xander. They had all been far more exhausted by their efforts than they had realised at the time and Mrs Stanton, with an eye to pale faces and tired eyes, insisted that they rested and avoided doing anything strenuous. It was a mark of how right she was that even Len could not muster much objection.

  As ever, Woodside was a hub for all the comings and goings, and news continued to trickle in about the repercussions of what was becoming known as the Great Border Breach. Despite Xander’s deep suspicion of the man and his motives, Perrin Thorne successfully claimed ignorance of any involvement. He had even offered manpower and any equipment that the hobs might need in their full re-activation of the Pavilions. To Xander’s relief, Callan Reeve assured him that the hobs had refused any Thorne equipment and were extremely picky about which humans were allowed on site, limiting them to Reeve himself, the ever faithful Petros and a few others all hand-picked by Reeve who had transferred out of Thorne Industries to work with the hobs.

  There had been no further shade incursions, and the border appeared, once more, to be secure so Traveller life was resuming its usual quiet tenor. Xander, however, was still bothered by the discrepancy between the story that Flint had told the Council about how his orb had triggered latent information in the old terminal, and Reeve’s insistence that it could not possibly have worked. In a quiet moment, when Xander was alone with the engineer, he brought up his concern. Reeve frowned, pushing back his rumpled hair.

  ‘No,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘What Flint described is just not technically possible.’

  ‘Then how come you –’

  Xander paused, wondering how to phrase it.

  Reeve just grinned. ‘How come I didn’t correct this assumption at the Council hearing?’ he asked and Xander nodded. ‘Well, I have literally no alternative explanation and, more importantly, I didn’t think they were asking because they actually wanted to know. It seemed to me that they were just looking for someone to blame for what happened and I didn’t think it was fair for them to pin it on you.’ Reeve’s eyes twinkled at Xander. ‘You had, after all, just handed me a lifelong dream.’

  Xander had grinned back at him but the enigma of the inexplicable messages on the terminal continued to nag at him. After lunch and the clearing up that followed, Mrs Stanton having obviously decided they were all recovered sufficiently to help, Xander called Ollie and Len out to the garden and unloaded his concern.

  ‘It just doesn’t make any sense,’ he finished. ‘I want to go back to the Halls and see if the terminal will activate again.’

  Len perked up immediately, an excited gleam in her eyes.

  ‘Excellent,’ she said brightly. ‘Do we go openly, or shall we break in tonight?’

  She looked far too pleased at the prospect.

  Ollie, who had received several lectures from his parents on the iniquities of sneaking around by night, shook his head. ‘No more breaking and entering,’ he said, decisively. ‘We’ll just go there in the daytime like normal people.’

  Len looked disappointed, but she got up gamely enough.

  ‘Come on, then. I was going mad with boredom, anyway. It’ll be good to get out.’

  Mrs Stanton was baking bread in the kitchen, smears of flour once more adorning her apron, and Xander was reminded of the day that he had arrived at the Stantons’ house, confused and overwhelmed. That boy seemed a million miles away from who he was now.

  ‘Going to Halls?’ she repeated. ‘I don’t see why not, but do try not to get into any more trouble with Primilla Pennicott.’ Her eyes lingered on Len, who beamed at her.

  ‘Who, us?’ she said, with her most innocent expression.

  Mrs Stanton sighed and shook her head ruefully.

  ‘Just be back by six for supper, okay?’

  They all agreed and shot out of the door before Mrs Stanton could have second thoughts.

  After passing through the Wykeham Gate, they strolled up the wide street to Fountain Square. The sky was cloudless, and the beautiful, pale gold buildings of the old city were luminous against the clear, lucent blue. It was not a day for hurrying and even the fairy swarms were lethargic, fluttering up from the trees in slow, mesmerising swirls of colour before sinking back to their leaves to doze. The square was almost empty, and the sunlight sent rainbows shivering through the jets of the fountains.

  Th
e entranceway of the Halls of Records felt even cooler than usual and Xander had to blink several times before his vision adjusted to the dimmer light. They slipped in through the great doors and then paused, looking warily over at the raised platform where Primilla Pennicott was usually enthroned. The desk was empty.

  ‘We’ll have to be careful,’ whispered Ollie. ‘She’s loose somewhere in here.’

  Xander grimaced, but Len had stiffened as her sharp ears caught a breath of sound. She tiptoed over to the platform, despite Ollie’s frantic hand signals for her to come back. When she reached the base of the dais, she peered around it and then hurried back, an impish smile on her face.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she murmured. ‘She’s tucked in a chair back there, with a handkerchief over her face, totally flat out.’

  ‘Let’s be quick then,’ said Xander. ‘Hopefully we can get in and out without her even knowing about it.’ He looked about him at the apparently impenetrable labyrinth of bookshelves and then turned to Len. ‘Do you remember where that terminal was?’

  Len managed to refrain from making any superior remarks and led them confidently into the maze. It was an odd feeling to be back here, Xander reflected five minutes later, as they stood in front of what was left of the ancient terminal. This time it was lit by daylight as the sunshine poured through the enormous painted window above, each beam of jewel-coloured light sending a million dust motes dancing along its length. Xander reached out a tentative hand and rested his palm in the centre of the cool stone. The faintest flicker ignited in his orb as he reached out for any sign of energy within the terminal but there was no reaction. Gently, he reversed the power, trying to feed it into the stone to see whether that would trigger a response but his palm began to tingle and itch as the power built there, with no way to dissipate. He lifted his hand from the stone with a sigh. Just as Reeve had said, there was nothing left here to activate. He glanced at the faint lights that danced along the starburst lines of his scar and then rubbed his palm reflexively on his trouser leg.