The Four Realms

by Adrian Faulkner

  She slowly began to become aware of her surroundings. Although her eyes were closed, she began to hear once again, could smell the dust of the farmhouse, could feel someone shaking her.

  Maureen could hear a woman's voice. "You've probably killed her, Psyninius."

  "You'd rather risk that thing attacking us?"

  "I'd rather find out who they are and what they are doing, before you decide to kill them."

  "You recognise them then, Lavaria?"

  "Not the troll, but I recognise the old woman from the wizard's house."

  In a flash all effects of the spell dissipated, and Maureen opened her eyes. There crouched in front of her, was the elf from Ernest's house.

  "You!" Maureen said.

  The elf seemed slightly taken aback, but her surprise was only fleeting, betrayed only by a momentary glint in her eyes.

  "Yes," Lavaria said. "It's me."

  Maureen wanted to launch into questioning. What were you doing at Ernest's apartment? Did you kill him? But before she could ask anything, there was a shout from outside. "Where do you want him?"

  The female elf stood up and called out the door. "Bring him in here."

  She stepped out, Psyninius following, leaving Maureen alone. The centaur and the dark haired elf were nowhere to be seen.

  This gave Maureen an opportunity to look round the room. Joseph was still tied up, slumped forward on his chair. Maureen would have worried he might be dead had it not been for the sight of his chest rising and falling as he breathed.

  With Lavaria away, Maureen had to try and stir Joseph. If he was awake, there was a chance he might be able to break free, he might be able to overpower the elf, he might... that was an awful lot of mights. No, she had to accept that whatever mess they were in, she couldn't rely on Joseph on getting them out of it. She had got them into this, and she would get them out. How though, she wasn't sure.

  "Joseph," she called. "Wake up!"

  The troll was starting to stir when Lavaria returned. Behind her, Gardpoul and Psyninius followed, an unconscious man slung between them, an arm each over their shoulders.

  "Put him over there." Lavaria pointed between Joseph and Maureen. Gardpoul clumsily dragged another chair from underneath the table, and they sat the man on it.

  "Cast the charm,” Lavaria barked.

  "I did already," protested Psyninius.

  "Cast it again."

  Psyninius sighed and started mumbling again. Maureen braced herself, ready for another onslaught of cold, but it never came. Instead the man just looked up, his eyes blazing with hatred toward the elves. He looked like he was trying to strain against the enchantment, but whilst he didn't pass out like Joseph had done, the effort to resist subsided, and his shoulders slumped.

  "Tie him,” Lavaria instructed.

  Gardpoul glanced at her, and if Maureen didn't know better he looked like he was about to protest. But Lavaria threw a glance sideways toward Maureen, and Gardpoul nodded. He grabbed some rope off the table and like Maureen and Joseph, fastening the man's hands behind his back. The man managed a light scoff.

  "You're not going anywhere,” Gardpoul told him, crouching down beside him.

  "Don't be so sure," said the man.

  Maureen could see him better now. He was balding with a long grey beard. However it was his robes that identified him; the blue robes of a wizard. The realisation made Maureen gasp. Her immediate reaction was one of fear, that the wizard would somehow recognise her and report that she'd slipped into Venefasia. She chided her stupidity. Perhaps she should start worrying about the danger she was in? Somehow the presence of a wizard made it all the more real. If a practitioner of magic could be captured by the elves, what chance did she have of escape?

  Gardpoul checked the hands were securely fastened and then stood up, joining Lavaria in walking out the room.

  "Don't try anything," he said as he left. "We'll be back soon."

  "Joseph,” Maureen called. "Wake up!"

  The troll continued to stir but was still too doped up with magic to be able to answer her.

  The wizard looked Maureen up and down. "And who exactly are you?" he asked in a condescending tone.

  Had she not been in the predicament she was in, she might have lambasted him for his rudeness, but she figured she might need his help. For that reason, she saw little reason for lying to him. "Maureen Summerglass," she said.

  The name didn't seem to register with him, although Maureen had to admit that she didn't recognise him either. She saw no reason to tell him she was a gatekeeper though. Not that she would have denied it, if he had asked.

  "Why are you here?" she said.

  He tugged at his bonds. "Isn't it obvious? The elves captured me."

  "I mean, why you? Why did they want to capture you?"

  The wizard shifted uneasily, like he was thinking of an answer. "I have no idea," he said. "I was just walking down the street and they jumped me."

  Maureen noted the lie but said nothing of it. She was always very good at telling when people were lying.

  "Can you get us out of these ropes? They're starting to chafe."

  The wizard looked blankly at her for a second. "You know," she continued. "Use magic or something."

  "Oh yes. Magic. Urm, no."

  "No?"

  "Yes. No"

  "Is that a 'No I won't' or 'No I can't'?"

  There was again a pause whilst the wizard considered their answer. "I..." he started, leaving the word hanging in the air.

  He's probably worried about revealing Friary secrets. After all, she hadn't told him she was a gatekeeper.

  "Did the spell the elves cast somehow hinder your own abilities?"

  "Yes," the wizard replied, unsure at first but then growing in confidence. "Yes. It's like some form of force field around me that burns if I touch it with my mind."

  That seemed very different to Maureen's experience but then she wasn't the one with magical ability. Perhaps it affected magic users differently.

  "George Palmer?" It was Joseph's voice. "George, is that you?"

  The wizard looked at him curiously. “Do I... know you?"

  Joseph laughed, not as heartily as Maureen had heard him in the past but then he must still be suffering the effects of the spell. "Of course you know me, Friday night cards? George, are you feeling all right?"

  "I... I must have been hit over the head very hard, some form of concussion. You're...” he stopped as if searching his mind, "...Joseph. You're Joseph aren't you?"

  Joseph nodded, his face looking slightly more concerned. "They must have hit you pretty hard, George."

  The troll looked over to a confused Maureen. "George, myself and a few other play cards on Friday nights."

  "That's right," said George. "We play cards."

  "Joseph, can you break free?" Maureen asked.

  "How?"

  Maureen sighed. "With your brute strength, you idiot. Can you snap the ropes?" She felt guilty at calling him an idiot, especially as he was still coming round after having been drugged, but there was no time for pleasantries.

  "I don't think so,” the troll replied, any insult, if taken, brushing off of him.

  "Can you at least try?"

  She watched as Joseph strained against his bonds, but it was no good. The rope held fast. There was nothing for it then, she told herself. They had to face whatever fate the elves had planned for them.

  The troll looked over to a confused Maureen. "George, myself and a few other play cards on Friday nights."

  She thought what she might say to the elves when they came back, trying to think of something - anything - that might secure their release. But whether it was the effects of the spell that had been placed on her, or fear of what might happen to her, no ideas were forthcoming.

  Eventually Gardpoul and Lavaria walked in followed by Psyninius. She stood in front of them, legs apart, arms folded behind her back.

  "Take him," she said nodding toward the wizard.

>   "You won't get away with this," said George, Maureen sensing more of an edge to his voice. "We'll wipe you out."

  "I doubt it," Lavaria responded. "I think you'll find it much harder to infiltrate our ranks."

  Gardpoul and Psyninius undid George's ropes and hauled him to his feet. He hissed at them, something Maureen found slightly unusual, although to be fair, this entire situation was unusual.

  "What about them?" Psyninius asked of Maureen and Joseph.

  "They obviously know nothing of this,” Lavaria replied. "Take them out back and have Xenig shoot them."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Damage Limitation

  Mr Magellan made his feelings perfectly clear. "I should throw you to the Dictatoriat right now!"

  Mr West tried to hide his emotions, something so hard in this body. Magellan's reaction had been... anticipated. He tried his best to conceal his smugness. "Certainly, but then we’d both go down, and you know that."

  In many ways Mr West couldn't blame Magellan for his reaction. Mr South was dead and Mr East was missing, presumed dead. Those sorts of losses had to be accounted for, especially if they had not been planned for.

  But if there was any indicator to Mr West that Mr Magellan didn't really understand the war they were fighting it was reflected in the choice of decor of his office. Kalgari Battle Spears hung behind him, a case of antique Artanten pistols to the right. There was no doubt that Mr Magellan was a warrior, proud and true, but these were relics of their own world, not this one. Mr West’s own office by comparison had a painting of a windmill and an Ikea sofa rather than a soak pool.

  Magellan sighed. "We've lost two operatives already. This has to be brought under control before we descend into chaos and madness."

  This was the problem with people such as Magellan, they lacked imagination. They were fighting a dirty war here, there was no room for noble heroes. No, to get the job done, they needed to do regretful things. Mr West was in no doubt that his actions went against his peoples very thinking. Should the Dictatoriat hear of his actions, they would condemn him, and Magellan, to death. But that wasn't the point.

  There was a job to do; there was a war to win. This wasn't a time for heroes, this was a time for doing what needed to be done. His actions wouldn't get him a statue, but they might mean their people lived. Sometimes, people needed a heretic.

  "But we've made so much progress," Mr West mused. "We know who has the notebook. Once we have that..."

  "And why wasn't I informed of this progress?"

  Mr West shrugged. "I only received notification of the identities of our thieves as I was about to walk through the door."

  "Who are they?"

  West flinched, and instantly regretted it. He'd no intention of giving Magellan their names, but his physical reaction had now given that away. Damn human body language. Oh well, he thought, nothing I can do about it now. One of the things about living in the now, was the ability to accept mistakes. The human ideology was that you learned from your failings, and West could now understand why. It was exhilarating to stand there exposed, to have no plan, no data system, no variables, no calculations. As beads of sweat began forming on his forehead he realised that he'd have to make a judgement call, a blind jump. It was both overwhelming and frightening. But what a rush, a feeling of exhilaration he’d never felt.

  "Their names are Darwin and Cassidy Mulligan," he said, his fake heart thumping so hard he could feel its pulse in his ears. What would happen now, he had no idea.

  "He’s a half-vampire,” he continued, “able to go out during the day. That’s the reason we haven't found him when we've hit vampire strongholds."

  He had no idea why he was offering this information so freely. It had been his plan to conceal it from Magellan. But the hit he got from knowing he’d offered it without calculation of the consequence gave his human synthetic skin goosebumps.

  "And the other one?"

  "A girl. Human. Used to hang around with local gangs, before getting shot and ending up in a coma. Woke up one night, walked out the hospital and hasn't been seen since."

  West felt a shiver run down his spine. No wonder the humans embraced chaos, if this was what it felt like.

  "And your intention?"

  "To hunt them down." That part had always been part of the plan, although he was still running models as to which course of action would prove the most likely to succeed. Screw that, he thought. He'd shut down his illicit data modelling and run on pure instinct.

  Mr Magellan sighed, as if Mr West didn’t understand some major point. "Is it worth it? Why not re-evaluate the models, eliminate the notebook from them, and progress down a more... controlled path."

  "Of course it’s worth it. If we can understand what keeps those gateways open permanently, it will save us years of work."

  "And you think the notebook of some wizard is going to tell you that? I know that their science is hardly advanced."

  West felt frustrated at Magellan's ignorance. Why did his people act like they didn't know what was at stake? "Yet, they are able to manipulate mana with their minds into magic. Can you do that? I certainly can’t."

  "The world is unique. This is why we’re here."

  "Indeed, and who's to say that those that have lived there for ages have not got a better understanding of their rather special phenomenon."

  Magellan raised his voice, his anger controlled yet evident. "There are other ways. Ones that don't involve heresy."

  Rage welled up in Mr West. All this time, he'd managed to keep his temper, had been content to simply listen and plan. But Magellan's idiotic refusal to look beyond their religions frustrated him. He threw a fist down on Magellan's desk.

  "We don't have time," he shouted. "Our planet is dying and you want to worry about preserving principles. This is a war, you need to understand that. We need to get the job done or there will be no planet to go home to."

  Magellan ignored his insubordination. His response was cold and pronounced. "There are other battle fleets, examining other locations."

  "And yet, this by far, is the best. The only problem: a chaotic indigenous population who can wield magic."

  Magellan scoffed. "You think some wizard throwing fireballs is enough to stop us?"

  "I’ve seen the damage a homemade mana bomb can do." West rubbed his arm. "These people are dangerous and unpredictable. This is why we need to proceed with caution."

  Magellan raised an eyebrow. "Caution? Is that what you call it? You have a funny way of exercising caution."

  "We’ll have them in a matter of days." Now they knew who they were looking for, it wouldn't be difficult to interface with the human’s systems and track them down: CCTV, social media networks, traffic cameras. The humans were very good at producing the data, they just did a poor job of being able to filter through it quickly.

  Magellan stroked his chin. "No," he said.

  "No?"

  "I can’t allow this to continue, West. I gave you an opportunity, and you took it way too far. It’s time for this pursuit to end."

  Mr West’s heart raced. Failure. Just the mere thought of it gave him a shiver. His natural reaction should be one of shame, of absolute guilt. Embrace it, he told himself. Embrace it and learn from your mistakes.

  "All right," he said with a nod, the mere utterance of the word sending a shock through his body.

  He understood this world now, with its immediacy, its impulse, its insanity. He felt more alive than he ever had.

  Magellan looked surprised. The beauty of body language, West thought. Obviously he had suspected some form of resistance. When none had come it had thrown him off plan. What do you do now, Mr Magellan? What do you do? Do you throw yourself to the winds of chaos or do run back to your data models and planning?

  "Good." Magellan's voice becoming softer. "I’m glad you understand."

  "Of course. My actions were always only for the good of our people."

  Magellan nodded as if he understood. Liar, West thought. All
you're interested in is protecting your job and pleasing the Dictatoriat. You don't care whether our planet lives or dies.

  West took a deep breath as he left the room. He'd lost. His plan to back Magellan into a corner, to allow him to continue his pursuit, had failed. And it felt brilliant. It was the best feeling in the world. He'd do what Magellan asked, at least for now, if only to see what Magellan did next. It was a little frustrating to leave the pursuit when he was this close but it wouldn't be too hard to pick it back up in the future. He doubted Darwin and Cassidy would be getting rid of the notebook any time soon. His data models had shown him that they'd eventually take flight to Venefasia, and that suited him. That suited him just fine.

  #

  Mr Magellan watched Mr West leave the room, continuing to stare at the door, long after it had been shut behind him.

  West was playing a game, a dangerous game. Magellan didn't doubt his patriotism to his race, but you couldn't just throw out thousands of years of teachings, just because your enemy didn't hold to those same values. He’d heard stories of the first of his race to venture into space. The isolation coupled with the sheer size of the universe and their insignificance in it, had turned some of them mad. Magellan was sure that West had seen the pure chaos of this world, and suffered a similar fate.

  It would not be hard to have him declared unfit for duty, that was a relatively easy task for someone in his position. But he knew that if he did, questions would be asked; questions that would get back to the Dictatoriat; questions that could have him killed.

  If he was honest, a little heresy never hurt. Not that he’d admit that to his men. Everyone was guilty of it from time to time. It was the quest to try and create an ordered universe that mattered. But West had not just crossed the line of what he deemed acceptable heresy; he’d descended into pure lunacy.