by Sulin Young
He was around the same age as Lorn, only slightly taller and broader. Long black hair reached his shoulders, framing a finely chiselled face and electric blue eyes. He wore a navy blue, double-layered, fitting jacket with a wide collar, which was the latest thing in high-street fashion The inner layer was zipped to his neck while the outer remained unbuttoned. Dark jeans, gloves, and high boots completed his look.
“Who are you?” Lorn called out. Something about the boy seemed oddly familiar.
The boy’s eyes bored into Lorn, taking their time to assess him. He didn’t seem interested in answering Lorn’s question. Instead, he nodded at Terrana.
“Who is she?” His voice was confident and refined.
“Why, what’s she to you?”
The left corner of his mouth pulled up a little. “She owes me a new coat.”
“What?” Lorn couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Her name, so I may send her the bill.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll have it cleaned and delivered to you.”
The boy shot Lorn a cold, condescending look.
“The coat is ruined, contaminated by an alien.”
Lorn’s face darkened. “She’s not an alien. She’s a student here like you and I.”
“Student? Like you and I? What strange people you are, trying to place yourselves in my league.”
Lorn had a bad feeling about the boy. Not only didn’t he like him, but more importantly, he had never seen him in the school before. It nagged at him like a tiny worm gnawing at his brain. He felt he knew this smart ass, but he couldn’t place him. Perhaps, he was a model or interplanetary celebrity.
The tall bushes nearby rustled, and a large animal stepped out. Lorn took one look at it and finally realised to whom he was speaking. He fell back, his face paling. The boy was none other than Prince Gil Ra Im, son of one of the most powerful Imeldors of all time.The animal with him was a feiyed— a winged faar of Swiva. It was the first time Lorn had ever seen a faar.
The faar stepped forwards and Lorn found himself trembling. It was taller than a full-grown horse. It had the body of a wolf, with powerful shoulders and chest, and a thick mane that wrapped around its neck. Like the boy next to him, it had brilliant blue eyes, and from its forehead grew a pair of straight horns. Its jaws were heavier and stronger than those of a normal wolf, its coat darker than the night. Magnificent wings spanned the entire length of its body, its wingtips lined with silver fur. The boy reached out and stroked the faar’s side.
“You, you are the prince of Swiva,” Lorn blurted once he managed to overcome his initial fear. He would never be rid of it completely— he couldn’t afford to, not around a faar. “Why are you here?”
“I ask myself the same question,” replied the prince, looking annoyed. They were both interrupted by the sight of a tall, powerful woman hurrying into the clearing. A thick mane of red hair quickly identified who she was.
“Headmistress Marl,” uttered Lorn, paling even more. Degra Marl, the headmistress of Minda Yerra. Had she come personally to look for Terrana?
Her green feline eyes swept over the boys before noticing the motionless form hiding beneath the coat on the ground.
“Don’t move!” she barked. Lorn gulped. When the headmistress ordered him not to move, nothing short of a cyclone would get him to move. He valued his life too much. Headmistress Marl was Magarkan, a feline race renowned for their physical prowess and exceptional strength, and Lorn had witnessed her bring down a small tree once, using nothing more than her claw-like fingers. She wore light-soled boots, matched with a pair of black trousers, and a red jacket that emphasised her full but powerful figure.
Headmistress Marl strode over to Terrana, her tail flicking behind her. When she reached the motionless form on the ground, she stooped to remove the coat. Naturally, Terrana smacked her hand away and buried herself deeper into the coat.
“Terrana, it’s me, Degra,” the head teacher spoke softly. No response. She smelled the vomit and felt the wetness of Terrana’s tears through the coat. Her face turned dark.
“The two of you, get to your lines, sort out your rooms and classes!”
They didn’t question her. The prince leapt onto the faar and left the clearing while Lorn turned around and ran through the trees. The head teacher watched them leave before turning back to Terrana. She bent down and scooped the girl into her arms, holding her firmly before leaping up into the trees. Then silently and quickly, she bounded from tree to tree, back to the school.
Lorn didn’t stop running until he had almost reached the school lines. Out of breath, he slowed to a walk and kicked at a rock angrily. He had been careless; after his fight with Bogath, and Terrana’s encounter with Misa, he should have expected retaliation. A flight-pack didn’t just malfunction. Each one was vigorously tested before being sent out to fetch the students. Someone had tampered with it.
He was about to kick another rock when he noticed the ripped wing of the flight-pack lying on the ground a few metres ahead. He ran over, staring at it in surprise. He thought it had fallen into the lake, but this was clearly a piece of it. He bent to pick it up but dropped it almost immediately.
“Urgh!” The tips of his fingers had numbed. So he had rescued her. Lorn felt even worse. Staring down at the internal wiring of the wing, he noted the ice-packed cavities and realised the prince had done the only thing he could to save Terrana from being dragged to her death by the malfunctioning flight-pack. He had used his frigid touch to freeze the damaged unit so it shattered and released her.
14
Imeldor murdered!
The mayhem in the pub had reached its peak. Drunken laughter and singing, breaking pint glasses, fistfights, bottom-pinching, and thigh-slapping had become second to breathing. In one corner, there was a singing quartet of sad-looking, shrivelled men who made all the alley-cats in the area lift their tails and fart in disgust.
That, in turn, caused all the homeless persons, genuine or non-genuine, to pause and sniff the air, wondering if they had let loose their bowels. Unfortunately, it even encouraged one mindless beggar to foul the cobblestone street. Thinking that he had already lost control of his bowels, he decided to release the rest of it.
Felix Jingo was sitting in the quietest corner of the pub with his good friend, Monta Pygron. There were several empty pint mugs in front of them. Monta Pygron was the pub owner, and he did most of the serious bouncing when things got out of hand.
It was not surprising really, Monta was a Muto; he had three pairs of arms. He also had a large, muscular frame with bulging neck muscles. A whole network of tattoos stretched from the top left side of his bald head right down to his little toe. It was not uncommon for people to think they were looking at half a Muto because of his tattoos.
Felix Jingo, on the other hand, resembled a human man in almost every manner except for the pointed ears. He was of medium size and his blond hair was shaved close to his head. He wore a small pair of silver-framed spectacles. He looked about forty-five years old, although, he was in fact eighty. Right then he was listening to Monta grumbling about work.
Felix had to agree with his friend. Although Monta’s door ladies were currently keeping things under control, it looked as though several men were planning to strangle the quartet for good. Unfortunately for the soon-to-be ex-customers, the quartet members were regulars and, by Monta Pygron’s law, it was a free world. Unless they were ruining his business, which they weren’t, Monta had to look out for them. Besides, they tipped him and his staff generously.
Felix was eagerly awaiting the brawl. It gave him an excuse to leave the place and head back to his lavish apartment by the river. The curling smoke was beginning to affect him, the beginnings of a headache setting in.
“If I catch dose men handin’ out drugs in my pub, I’m gonna san’ dem to da place of no sunshine!” growled Monta, indicating a bunch of Listerian men seated at the back of the pub. Felix followed his cue.
They did l
ook like drug dealers, scruffy with oversized jackets that were probably stuffed with pills and phials. They also looked a little too happy and wide eyed. Felix noted the numerous tuberson their faces wriggling wildly— a sign they had ingested something. At the moment, the men were talking across to some teenagers and beckoning them to join their table. If they were indeed dealers, Felix felt almost sorry for them. Almost.
Monta had lost his only son to drugs a few years ago. The discovery of his son’s bloated, discoloured corpse, bent over with a needle in his hand, had driven Monty mad with grief. Not long after, he had hunted down the people who had supplied his son with the drugs, and none of them ever saw the sun again. Muto parents were rated worse than all environmental disasters combined when it came to protecting their children. Because of the difficulty they had in conceiving children, most Muto couples were lucky to have even one child.
So far, there were two potentially explosive situations. Mona and Lisa, the two door ladies, were more than capable of handling the quartet stranglers. No help required there, not with the muscles on those women! He was slightly worried for Monta though.
“And if dose kids so much as look like dey wanna join dat table, I is a gonna do someting, Felix.”
“Like what?” Felix asked warily. He didn’t want his friend to get into trouble. The teenagers were Muto, so their parents were bound to be as protective as Monta.
“If you so much as walk them to the door, their parents might walk you off this planet,” Felix warned.
“I’ll sing to dem, I will.” Monta was eyeing the teenagers. “I’ll join da quartet dere an’ wail like a screamin’ babe until dey leave!”
Felix pushed his chair back and stood up. Satisfied that Monta had the right idea, he could leave.
“Yer not goin’ already nah?”
“Sorry, but this headache’s turning nasty. It’s best I sleep it off. I’ll come around to your place later, okay?”
“Tomorrow morning?”
Felix nodded. “Oh, and Monta?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t go too far.”
“I dunno know what yer talking about.”
Felix had to give him credit— Monta could feign innocence well.
“Good.”
When he stepped out of the pub, his nose crinkled in disgust. Someone had fouled the cobblestone path and, even worse, the culprit was sleeping in his soiled garments a few metres away. Felix walked away quickly, almost running. It was only when he reached the narrow alleyway leading to the river that he stopped. Grinning, he stood really still and closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, he opened his eyes and began walking again. He was soon swallowed up in the darkness of the alley. He had just located the dream of the sleeping man on the cobblestone path and altered a few things. Needless to say, that man would never foul a public place again.
As his footsteps echoed in the dimly lit alley, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Between every step he took, something out there took a step also. It was barely audible, and had the alley not been silent, Felix Jingo would never have heard it. Trying not to arouse suspicion, he quickened his pace. He was only a hundred metres or so from the river. To his alarm, the mysterious footsteps kept up. Their rhythm was so perfect that they fell between his footsteps. Convinced that someone was following him, Felix came to one other conclusion— that person was a powerful qi user.
It was too dangerous for him to pause and conduct a scan in the alley. If there was, indeed, someone after him, this would be the most opportune time for them to attack. He was now fifty metres from the river. He could run, he thought— at least he’d be out in the open where there were bound to be other people.
He doubted that his stalker would do anything out in the open. If something was to happen, it would occur before he left the alley, and Felix did not want that. People lived in the alley buildings and confrontation with the enemy could result in devastating damage to their homes.
A narrow strand of light escaped a small, dirty window from one of the flats above. It seemed strangely comforting to Felix as he hurried towards it. Once he reached it, though, he wished the light had never been switched on. He wished that he had never glanced to his left and seen his shadow. He wished he had not turned his head and seen his shadow do the same. And he wished he had not seen it turn away. Felix Jingo was still staring at it.
He broke into a cold sweat. He couldn’t sense any qi in the shadow. It had neither substance nor energy, and Felix realised he was in terrible danger. Trying to stem his rising panic, he continued walking. The shadow followed, flowing along the wall whenever there was light.
Felix thought quickly. He couldn’t engage it directly— he had no idea who was manipulating it. He needed to draw it out. Discreetly, without giving anything away, he began to distribute his qi around his body. His pace never once slowed nor quickened. He walked closer to the wall on his right, coming up to a little doorway, glad for the extra darkness it provided. As soon as he reached it, he sneaked in, while another Felix Jingo pulled away and continued walking down the alley.
The real Felix Jingo watched as the shadow followed his clone. Felix gave his clone a twenty-step head start before slipping out after it, taking care to remain camouflaged by the alley walls. Determined to draw his stalker out, he made a bold move.
The other Felix Jingo broke into a run. As the real Felix looked on, the shadow pulled out of the wall to attack the clone. Felix reacted immediately. His clone swung around and raised his hand, but the shadow had de-materialised. A mound of earth shot up through the ground beneath the clone’s feet and continued to rise, carrying him into the air. The shadow emerged from the mound and began to slither up the clone’s legs.
How do you kill a shadow, Felix wondered. He couldn’t tell, from where he was, whether the shadow was being controlled or whether it was an abomination in its own right. Through the clone’s eyes, the shadow was nothing but a flimsy piece of darkness lacking substance. The real Felix Jingo failed to see how it could be a threat. That was his first mistake.
The shadow popped up in front of the clone’s face, then wrapped itself around his body. Where it touched the clone, Felix Jingo experienced excruciating pain. Clothes and flesh burned away. Had it not meant revealing his actual location, Felix Jingo would have screamed. The shadow had managed to breach the psychic link between him and his clone, transferring the injuries over to the real Felix.
The clone squirmed out of the shadow’s embrace and flew out of the alley and into the brightly-lit city square with its park benches and flower gardens. Felix had assumed there would be people about, but there were none. That was his second mistake.
Looking at his clone standing under the streetlamps, Felix realised the true nature of the shadow. He looked on in horror as other shadows popped up all around his clone. In the lit square, the shadow was bringing his brethren to life! One by one they rose from the ground and, in unison, they reached for the clone.
The searing heat brought the real Felix to his knees; in the darkness of the alley, he clutched his head in agony. He couldn’t scream out even if he wanted to— he had had the foresight to tie his vocal cords after his first contact with the shadow, and that decision may well have saved his life.
The shadows overwhelmed the clone as they stretched out to envelop it. Felix blistered and burned while his clone cindered. The clone had no hope of surviving this attack. And Felix Jingo, the real man, had to make his death look convincing, and so he suffered what his clone suffered until he could bear no more. His clone died, leaving nothing more than a heap of ashes on the ground. The shadows vanished soon after.
Felix waited for over an hour before limping back to his apartment. His body was already in the process of healing itself as he backtracked his way through the alley, then took the long route home.
He avoided the lit areas and listened for footsteps. When he arrived at his apartment block, he switched off the main po
wer to the building, destroying the fuse box completely. Then, he climbed three flights of stairs to his door. He chose not to open it. Instead, he transformed himself into a muddy liquid and seeped through the gap beneath.
He searched for signs of intruders, and when he found none, he reverted to his original form. He limped over to the shelf in his living room and removed a book. Flipping to a specific page, he uttered a single word. The entire shelf moved to one side and revealed a large communication screen.
“Activate!” he commanded. Nothing happened. The screen remained dark. Felix frowned. Now was not the time for it to play up— he needed to warn the other Imeldors.
“Activate!”
The screen lit up and he breathed a sigh of relief. As soon he finished this debrief, he intended to board the first ship to Pa Gumpina. Felix froze. The screen was flickering, something that had never happened before. Worse, he heard footsteps.
He stepped away from the wall, sweat running down his face. Dark patches blotched out the screen and his worst nightmare was confirmed when a shadow popped out.
No one heard Felix Jingo scream.
Terrana bolted upright in her bed, screaming. “Puddy! Puddy!”
But there was no Puddy. Just the dim glow of light from beyond her window and an anxious kitten on her lap. Finally realising where she was, she released a long breath, trying to calm her nerves.
Kazu meowed gently and climbed onto her chest, rubbing his head against her chin. Terrana raised him slightly and stared into one blue and one orange eye. Kazu meowed again, flicking his tail.
“Just a nightmare, Kazu. A really bad one.”
She ran her hand through her hair, which had grown a few centimetres since her disastrous arrival in Minda Yerra. Three weeks had passed and she was beginning to settle in. For some reason, Headmistress Marl had placed her in the boarding domes below the lake instead of above ground, and it had turned out to be the right decision. Terrana found her water environment to be soothing, and she was able to concentrate on her work better.
