The Four Realms

by Adrian Faulkner

  Resolved that she had done everything she could, she made her way downstairs to the door.

  "I'm afraid I haven't quite finished...” She started as she flung open the door, except ... she looked left then right down the road, then down just to be sure ... there was no-one there.

  "How odd," she said and closed the door. Perhaps it was children playing Postman's knock or such like. As long as it wasn't that awful Gnome asking for more money.

  Maureen made her way into the kitchen to fetch herself a drink. Her throat itched from the dust thrown up by the books, but she was in no position to criticise Ernest for his housekeeping. When was the last time she dusted? She couldn't remember. More so, she couldn't see the point, it was just shifting it around so it could land someplace else.

  She was relieved to find some tea bags in Ernest's cupboards. At least she'd taught him to appreciate one thing from her realm. The absence of a fridge meant that milk was kept in a covered pot on the side. She sniffed it suspiciously. It didn’t smell off, but Maureen decided to hedge her bets and just drink her tea black.

  It wasn't a bad little place, Maureen thought, as she waited for the kettle to boil. At least it was warm and things worked, unlike her own house. Maybe the council would move her into a little place; they wouldn't just let a little old lady starve on the streets would they? If it was something like this then she'd be quite pleased. In some ways she'd be glad to see the back of her own home. A little flat would be easier to heat and she wouldn't have to worry about people coming round if something did go wrong. Perhaps she could go into Guildford when the snows had melted, speak to Citizen's Advice. There was probably a list she needed to get on; there was always a list.

  There was a noise upstairs and her thoughts immediately returned to the Gnome. She was small enough that if she'd shimmied up the drainpipe she could have got in one of the open windows.

  Maureen left the kettle boiling and rushed up the stairs, one hand on the handrail, the other on her knee to help her up, and she emerged upstairs, sweating and panting to find not a Gnome, but an elf.

  She had blonde hair, and green slanted eyes that seemed to burrow right through you. She was dressed in red, a tight fitting body suit that exposed enough cleavage to be feminine without looking slutty, and helped offset her thigh-high, red leather boots. She was flicking through a book when Maureen first saw her, but put it down, pulled the hood back from her waist-long cloak so that her hair tumbled out onto her shoulders.

  An elf, here, in Ernest's house.

  The elf muttered something under her breath and a flaming dragon's head leapt forth, flying across the room toward Maureen. In shock Maureen cried out, and immediately a wall of ice thrust up in front of her with a large crack. The dragon's head crashed on it and dissolved into sparks. The wall dissolved nearly as quickly as it had appeared. Maureen wasn't sure what had happened. Neither did the elf by the look of amazement on her face. She looked at Maureen for a second, Maureen standing there helpless and alone, wondering what she might do next. But the elf jumped onto the window ledge and out the window. Maureen hurried to the window in time to see her running across Ernest's garden and vaulting the fence at the end.

  Maureen collapsed into the armchair in shock at what had just happened. The elf had tried to kill her, hadn't she? That fireball had been aimed at her, there was no doubt about that, and would have killed her had it not been for the ice wall.

  Maureen looked to the flowerpot beside her, a huge crack down one side, and watched as the flower planted within, withered and died.

  She realised her mouth was still open. What had just happened? She looked back to where the wall of ice had been, but there was no evidence of it ever having been there, except for a wet stain on the carpet. Who had cast it? She owed her life to whoever had. But at the same time it slightly unnerved her, as though she was being watched.

  What had the elf been looking at? She'd had a book in her hands when Maureen had encountered her. Though she didn't feel like it, she forced herself up and across the room, to pick up the book form the floor where it had been discarded. "The Mana Realms" by E. McFadden. She smiled; it was a book by Ernest himself. She ran her fingers gently across the spine where his name was embossed. It was like touching him again.

  No, she told herself, she couldn't let herself become distracted. She'd almost been murdered herself.

  "What are you doing, Maureen?" she asked herself. It was one thing to go sneaking into realms feeling nothing was being done about Ernest's murder. But elves and fireballs, and mysterious protectors? It was all too much. She needed to see sense. Yes, there was something going on, the events of the last few minutes evidence enough of that, but it wasn't worth getting herself killed over. Even Ernest would have agreed with that. It was late, she was tired and scared. She should go home.

  Shaken, she grabbed her handbag and made down the stairs. Damn the packing, it wasn't safe here, and she needed to leave. Yet, as she closed the door and started to make her way back to the Friary, there was part of her that was resolved to continuing this investigation. That elf knew something, and she was going to find her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Gateways

  Mr West was walking along the sidewalk when he got the call. The snow had turned to slush around the drains and walkways had been cut along the sidewalks but now and then he found himself wading up to his knees in churned snow. Beside him, Mr South shivered, failing to see how this lesson in how humans experienced choice was anything other than an excuse to get cold and wet. It'll do him good, Mr West had thought, will give him a taste of what being human was all about.

  The call was from his drone assistant. Mr West smiled as they relayed information to him.

  "Really? And they checked properly? Made sure it wasn't hidden?"

  Mr South stood there, hopping from one foot to another, his arms tightly wrapped round him to try and keep warm. Mr West paid him little attention - he should have been here yesterday when it really was cold - and instead listened intently to what the person on the other end of the phone was telling him.

  "Well that's brilliant news," he said. "Thank you for the update."

  He still wasn't accustomed to mobile phones and had to hold it at arm’s length to find the off button, before replacing it into his inside jacket pocket.

  "Who was it?" Mr South asked.

  "My drone has heard back from our agents in Venefasia. The wizard's house was searched. The notebook wasn't there."

  "I fail to see how that is good news," South grumbled.

  "Really?" Mr West questioned with a raised eyebrow. Sometimes he underestimated Mr South's stupidity. "Don't you see? This means the vampire took it."

  "It's still a probability. I don't like it."

  He could dislike probability but it was all they had to go on. What would Mr South suggest? That they give up the hunt until they'd managed to accurately data model the situation? Pah! By that time the vampire would be long away.

  "You can hate it, Mr South, but we're at war and we have to fight unconventional warfare."

  Mr South seemed unconvinced. Collar of his suit up, hands in his pockets, he continued along the sidewalk. "What's so special about that notebook anyway? How are the ramblings of some old wizard going to be of any use to us?"

  Mr West tutted. "Mr South, you really must stop thinking of the people from these realms as savages."

  "Well, they're little more than that," huffed South like a petulant child. "Their technology... it's so basic."

  "Our wizard was an expert on the gateways between the realms. Did you know their religions tell that they were created when their gods fought, created where their swords clashed?"

  Mr South withdrew his hands from his pockets and raised them skywards in exasperation.

  "My point exactly. It's hardly hard science."

  Mr West was enjoying his role as an educator. If he could make Mr South understand, then perhaps others would, maybe he could get the entire fleet around to his wa
y of thinking.

  "Ah, but our dead wizard was looking into the science of it all. Trying to find out why Venefasia literally ebbs mana, yet this realm," he paused to point around him, "has nothing. Why does mana effectively die when only a few feet into this realm, and how do those gateways stay open? They're a product of mana, and yet they don't collapse."

  There was a silence for a second. Mr West hoped his colleague might offer a scientific answer, but all Mr South could do after an uncomfortable silence was shrug. "And he found out all the answers?" South asked.

  Poor Mr South, thought Mr West. He's really struggling with this mission. If all his colleagues are like that, it was no wonder this operation is so behind schedule. Maybe they forgot the reason for the urgency. Lives depended on them, and yet none of his colleagues were willing to take chances, engage their enemy on their own terms. No, they'd rather retain their fates, do everything by the book. This fact frustrated Mr West. War was a dirty business and sometimes people had to get their hands dirty.

  Magellan could criticise him all he liked, but he was getting results. He had no doubt that within a few days they would have the notebook. It was frustrating that it could take so long, but what was the alternative? He knew for certain that nothing Magellan proposed would yield results so quickly.

  "No, Mr South," he said in response, "he did not find out all the answers. But he did find out some very interesting things surrounding those gateways."

  Mr South didn't look convinced. His loss. It was cold and Mr West was now fed up with giving this lesson to Mr South. He wanted to get home. He took a step forward, before stopping, turning to South and adding, "... which is all very useful if you're looking to create your own gateway."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - The Sewers

  The sewers brought back bad memories for Darwin. It felt like a lifetime ago, when he'd packed up a few things and made his escape. The smell was etched into his memory, remembering as he tried to feel his way along in the dark, cursing every splash should it alert the vampires to his location. He remembered fighting back the tears, the panic. Every sound, now just as then, made him jump and worry he was being followed. But today there were no shouts behind him, no calling him from the dark. Even so, by the time they reached and opened the manhole cover, he found himself hyperventilating. It had been so close back then, the ladder found by chance rather than plan. What would have happened to him had they caught him? Would things be so different from what they are now, or would he have always found some way to escape? And if he hadn't, would his race still be alive?

  Darwin couldn't be sure at the time, but once he emerged, he realised it was the very same manhole he'd emerged from those years back. Oh, the freedom and elation he'd felt back then. He'd felt invincible. Not this time though. This time he could only feel sadness and guilt. Back then, he wanted nothing more than to turn his back on his people and be alone. Now, he wanted nothing more than to have them back.

  They were a good number of streets away from the Vampire Council but even from here you could smell the smoke. The horizon was lit orange like a setting sun, but the tall buildings obscured any view of the fire itself. Probably best, he thought.

  "That was disgusting," Cassidy said in long laboured tones as she shook a sodden foot. It was either that or stay there and burn, thought Darwin.

  "Come on," he said. "We need to keep moving."

  Cassidy looked skywards and rolled her eyes. "Guh! All I want is some clean clothes and a shower. I smell disgusting."

  "You always smell disgusting."

  Cassidy punched him in the arm. "Do not. How rude!"

  He smiled at her, not that she needed to be told any more that he was joking. A moment of levity when everything seemed so shit. Still, he told himself, if nothing else, the fire would mean their plight would get noticed. With any luck the building would collapse and the portal would be buried. If it did get found, there were people who would ensure it remained a secret. The wizards weren't without their resources in the police. News media would probably report it as a suspected terrorist cell, spin some story about an accident, and then seal off the area. It would mean that at least the wizards would know. He doubted anyone in Venefasia would be too upset at the genocide of the vampires. They'd done a remarkably good job of pissing off just about everyone over the years. But, he told himself, public opinion aside, at least word would get out to those who needed to know. Mr East and his people had killed a wizard as well, that made the wizards and the vampires allies in Darwin’s mind. Hopefully they'd see it like that as well.

  They hurried down side streets, trying to get as far away from the Vampire Council as possible, whilst in the background the wail of sirens seemed to grow. He felt exposed, would have preferred to have stayed in the sewers if his personal demons would have allowed him.

  He was alone on that point. Cassidy, it was safe to say, hadn’t enjoy the sewer experience. It was dry for the most part, but there were some parts where it came up to your shins. There were allegedly parts further on where you went up to your waist, and there was no way, based on her protests, that he would have been able to get her through there. Maybe she forgot they were running for their lives.

  "Where we going?" Cassidy asked, half-skipping to keep up with his determined pacing.

  "Away from here."

  In truth his first thought was to go to the meet-up in Walthamstow but he couldn't be sure whether he was being followed or not. Best to lay low away from the others for a couple of days in case.

  "Well, I don't care where we go, Darwin, but seriously, I do need a shower!"

  He couldn't remember the last time he had a shower. It felt like years. Even when he'd lived in the Vampire Council, they only had baths. Probably the last time he visited Nanny Voodoo he concluded.

  Nanny Voodoo. There was an ally, someone who wouldn't turn him away if he turned up on their doorstep looking for somewhere to hide for a couple of days stinking of sewage. At least, he hoped that to be the case. He'd not spoken to her since running away from the Vampire Council.

  "We're going to Clacton," he said.

  "Clacton!" Cassidy exclaimed. "We're walking all the way to Clacton?"

  "No, bozo," he replied, borrowing one of her phrases. "We've got that money from the corpse. We'll take the train."

  "Smelling like this?" She stopped and held her hands out to each side for dramatic effect.

  "Yep. Unless you have a better plan?"

  That shut her up. He thought for a moment that she might suggest something, but just as she went to say something she closed her mouth and carried on walking. Good, he wanted to be out this city as quickly as possible. He didn't feel safe.

  "I'm just gutted we lost the notebook," he said striding on. Nanny Voodoo could read Old Elvish, or at least better than he could. She would have been able to tell them what the book said. Still, gone it may be, but at least that stopped Mr East getting his hands on it.

  Cassidy rifled in her coat pocket. "You mean this?" she said pulling out the notebook.

  Darwin gasped. "You saved it?"

  He hadn't seen her pick it up, had assumed it had burned alongside all the other books.

  "Never let it out my sight. You said it might be important."

  Important enough that someone was willing to wipe out an entire race of vampires to get to it. For a second, he resented the fact that they still had it, that there was a reason for Mr East's colleagues to want to find them. Well, he had now killed Mr East. He guessed revenge was as good a motive as any.

  "Shit," he said as it dawned on him. 'We're in a fuckload of trouble."

  Get out of the city tonight or first thing tomorrow, he thought to himself. Focus on getting to Nanny Voodoo's. He put his head down and picked up his pace, trying to put the smell of his heritage burning behind him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - Escaping Home

  As the adrenaline subsided, Maureen found the urge to get back to her cats and cold house grow and grow, until it became almost a
panic to get home.

  "You've had quite enough adventure for one day," she told herself mockingly, trying to calm her nerves. But in truth the incident had shaken her. Now a sense of adventure had given way to wanting to get home and have a nice cup of tea.

  Of course, getting out the Friary was a lot easier than getting back in. Despite the time of night as she reached the plaza she saw a steady trickle of wizards entering and exiting the building. She didn't want to get too close unless one of them recognised her, so she loitered around the dragon statue, waiting for an opportunity. But every time one seemed to open up, the door would open and a wizard would exit.

  Oh, why did you do this? Maureen asked herself. This was a stupid idea, you nearly got yourself killed and now you can't get home. Maybe if she went to Rofen and explained he wouldn't be too cross? She scoffed at her own idea.

  "Yes, like he's the forgiving sort," she told herself.

  No, far better to chance getting back unnoticed, and explain herself if she got caught. She looked around uneasily. That elf was still out there somewhere.

  After what seemed like an age, the doorway was no less busy. No option, she thought, but to go for it. Look determined and perhaps people won't question you. She really wished she'd remembered a headscarf, anything to partially hide her face.

  Taking a deep breath, she strode across the plaza, watching wizards coming and going. She was half way up the steps when a young wizard came out. He wasn't anyone Maureen recognised thankfully, but he eyed her suspiciously.

  "Can I help you?" he asked.

  "Oh, I'm looking for the library," Maureen quickly lied.

  The wizard pointed to the other side of the plaza. "The crystal building," he said.

  "Oh thank you," Maureen said.

  He smiled at her. "No problem," he said as he continued down the steps and on his way, not even bothering to turn back to look at her. Typical wizard, so wrapped up in their little worlds, he never even stopped to question why anyone would want the library at this time of night.