by S McPherson
‘This is huge,’ Nathaniel insists. ‘Someone other than a Coltis has managed to cross into this world.’
Lexovia grimaces, ‘Yes, but he has no idea how.’
‘Irrelevant!’ Nathaniel clearly decides, leaping out of the booth and bounding towards the bar. He soon returns with a bottle and three shot glasses.
‘Oh, not the fire fluid again.’ Lexovia wrinkles her nose, recalling the New Year’s party they’d had at the Bar. Unsure of the customs of traveling to an under-earth world, Nathaniel had shown up with a bottle of something clear, its label declaring it to be ‘Sambuca’.
Lexovia had scooped up the tiny glass he’d offered her and swallowed its contents whole, as instructed. It was a sweet burning liquid that scorched on the way down and left her fairly dizzy. She groans now as Nathaniel nudges another little glass towards her.
‘Bottoms up,’ he grins, lifting his own glass.
Lexovia frowns at the expression; why would she want her bottom in the air? Although, presumably, if she drank enough of these she would indeed end up flat on her face, her backside out for all to see.
Jude lifts his own glass. ‘To Crystosalys,’ he booms, and together they down the spirit, screwing up their faces, spluttering and sucking air between their teeth.
‘Corporeals,’ Lexovia sighs, shaking her head.
‘You know you love us,’ Jude retorts, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
Later that night, everyone is riveted as they listen to Michaela tell the story of when R.U.O.E. sliced her across the neck. They didn’t go deep enough to kill her but enough to leave a scar as a haunting reminder each time she looked in the mirror.
‘What were they like with you?’ she asks Imogen. ‘How did they arrest you?’
‘Well,’ and Imogen folds her hands on the table in front of her, ‘for one thing, it was no ordinary arrest. I came through the portal already in a panic. The Vildacruz had recently discovered that Lexovia existed and Coldivor was in a right state.’
Lexovia shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Michaela’s discreet glance.
‘I was told that Coldivor may not be safe for a while, and as soon as the portal opened, I rushed through, straight into the arms of one of them. There were about five of them who had been waiting for us—I wasn’t the only one. Another lady had crossed with me. They had us both held in seconds, pulling at us, at our ears and hair, shining torches into our eyes.’
The others listen, completely rapt, hanging on her every word.
‘“Corporeal” they announced and slapped a pair of handcuffs on us, none too kindly, either.’ Imogen frowns. ‘Then we were dragged through the woods, stumbling behind them as they pulled us a fair way,’ and she absently strokes her wrists at the memory. ‘They took us to a white van hidden in the undergrowth. Nothing written on it, mind, just a logo: a ragged eight-pointed thing. I was terrified. They slid open the door and that’s when things grew more curious.’
‘Why was that?’ Jude almost whispers.
‘There were others inside the van: more Corporeals in cuffs and quite a few Coltis, all chained to one another, some even gagged or blindfolded.’ Imogen swallows. ‘As we were driven away, they took the names of all the Coltis—they’d no interest in the Corporeal. Each name was added to a list of some sort. “The place is swarming with ‘em” one of them said. To them, the Coltis were an infestation and they were the fumigators.’ Imogen shakes her head in disgust and Lexovia shudders with a rage she hadn’t expected to feel.
‘And then what?’ she growls. ‘They just chucked you all in a jail cell?’
Imogen slowly nods, ‘The Corporeal, yes.’
‘And the Coltis?’
‘They drove away with them.’ Imogen’s lips bunch. ‘They weren’t inclined to answer any questions, and those of us who did ask were promptly silenced with the butt of a gun.’ Imogen gently caresses her chin, no doubt where the firearm struck her so many years ago. ‘After that, we didn’t see any of them again.’
Silence settles at the table. Though the bar is still bursting around them, neither seem to acknowledge anything outside their booth.
‘I’ll mindle Fawn,’ Mrs Edwards says, thoughtfully. ‘Tell them to look out for a white van.’
‘I want to go up,’ Lexovia decides, her voice quiet but firm.
The others turn to her, as though unsure she had actually spoken.
‘What did you say?’ asks Mrs Edwards.
‘Lower the force field; I’m going up there.’ Lexovia struggles to supress the anger now raging inside her, like a boiling pot of water. Her heart is hammering, her face feeling flushed and her teeth clenched so tightly her jaw begins to hurt.
‘No you are not,’ Mrs Edwards scoffs. ‘I’ll mindle—’
‘This isn’t about you!’ Lexovia snaps. ‘They’re not hunting you and putting you down. I’m going up there whether you help me or not.’ Lexovia glares at all the faces now agog and silently staring at her. She wishes she could push away from the table and storm out but she is wedged in the corner of the booth.
‘Lexovia…’ Mrs Edwards says in a softer tone this time, but then seems lost for words.
‘I deserve to know what I’m up against,’ Lexovia says, evenly. ‘You can bet the last Elentrice is high on their list.’ And with that she teleports in a resounding clash and a blaze of amber.
It doesn’t take Jude long to track her down. Lexovia doesn’t know many places in Feranvil and she had seemed quite content the last time they were up here, on the roof of his house. She now sits on one of the overturned paint tins, staring blindly at the few fish darting around in the small pond.
‘Hey,’ he ventures, going to sit beside her.
She does not respond, her grip tightening on the tin seat.
‘My mum says they’ll lower the shield for us,’ and he searches her face for a reaction but still there is none. ‘Nathaniel’s getting the elamine.’
Lexovia frowns, ‘You’re coming with me?’
‘Of course,’ Jude cries. ‘I don’t care much about the “Last Elentrice”, but Lexovia Trice is high on my list.’
Lexovia bites her lip, willing herself not to cry. She always appreciated Milo’s laidback charm; he was never too sweet, never too serious, just what she needed to stay strong. Jude was fast becoming her second closest male friend, though in a very different way. He was too sweet and often too serious, making her evaluate herself and her life. He was, ironically, just what she needed because he let her be weak.
TUMULTUOUS TUNNELS
Lexovia and the boys meander through the woods trying to find some sign of the so-called Wood Security. The atmosphere is one of grim determination, neither saying a word. The forest on the other hand is alive, too sprightly for their sombre moods. They hear the rushing hiss of the brook, the owls gurgled hoot, the scuttling of the badgers and hedgehogs beneath the leaves and the sound of insects buzzing between the boughs and branches.
Jude wipes the sweat collecting on his brow. Though the air is cool, he is warm under his black hoodie, worn to keep him blended in within the shadows.
They have been walking for a while now, looking out for the glimmer of a white van or the golden sheen of a flashlight. If R.U.O.E are masquerading as Wood Security, then they guess the woods are their best place to find them, or something linked to them.
‘There!’ Nathaniel hisses, bringing them to an abrupt halt. They were about to turn one way when Nathaniel peered wildly at something in the other direction. They have ventured from the footpath, making it difficult to see, the only light coming from the lit screens of Jude and Nathaniel’s phones.
‘Under that tree,’ he directs them. ‘I’m sure I saw the moon reflect off something there.’
Lexovia and Jude step beside him, following his gaze.
‘Which tree?’ Lexovia asks.
‘Over there!’ he exclaims. ‘Come on,’ and Nathaniel sets off, squinting through the low hanging branches.
Jude and Lexovia
follow in his tracks, ducking when he ducks, stepping over hitches when he steps.
‘There!’ he gasps, gripping Lexovia’s arm, stopping so brusquely Jude bumps into the back of them.
‘Oh,’ Lexovia breathes, stepping around him.
A white van is up ahead, hidden in a circle of trees, broken off branches laid across its windshield.
Lexovia cannot tell if she is more nervous or excited, but either way, adrenaline rises through her as she silently creeps forward, climbing over vines and raised tree roots.
When close enough to see the markings on the van, she stops them. Using the light from Nathaniel’s phone, she can make out the symbol of R.U.O.E on the vans side, just the logo, nothing written.
‘That’s it,’ Jude murmurs.
None of them take their eyes off the pale vehicle that now seems larger simply by virtue of what it represents.
‘That one’s a nasty blighter,’ a man’s voice growls, though they cannot see where the speaker is. ‘Why can’t we just bludgeon the monsters?’
Another voice lowly chuckles, ‘Daniel says death is too good for them lot. Besides, if he can harness something from their DNA, we’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.’
A door slides shut and the silhouettes of two hulking men step around the front of the van. They are in matching uniforms with identical peaked caps balanced on their heads. Jude, Lexovia and Nathaniel stiffen, the boys smothering their phone lights in their hands, all of them pressing against tree trunks, hoping to stay hidden.
The other man snorts, ‘It’s been ages, and we’ve got nothing.’
‘As long as we’ve got ‘em in captivity, mate, I’m not bothered.’
Lexovia’s fists clench; “Captivity”, “Infestation”; there is something about these words that really makes her blood boil. She seethes as the taller of the two men pulls out his handkerchief, dabbing at what appears to be his blooded lip.
‘I can’t wait for Daniel to add that one to the list,’ he grumbles.
The shorter one laughs, his bushy moustache shuddering above his lip as he pulls open the driver’s side door and climbs in, leaning out to pull some of the branches off the windscreen. The other hops into the passenger side.
‘‘Ello, ‘ello.’ Adjusting the rear-view mirror, the shorter one grins menacingly at whatever it is that’s behind him.
The van shakes as something clambers around in the back, thuds dully sounding out as dints appear in the metal.
‘Shut up!’ the man hollers, but the seeming riot continues. He sneers as he rams a key into the ignition, starts the engine and slowly drives away, the windscreen wipers sweeping off the remaining branches.
‘We have to go after them,’ Lexovia gasps, watching the van lurch and trundle between the trees.
‘We’ve got no chance of catching them once they get to the road,’ Jude glares after the van.
Lexovia frowns, her mind bouncing around ideas.
‘I can catch them,’ she realises, and in an instant, her eyes radiate the colour of fire and amber sparks streak out from her fingertips. ‘Wait here.’ She soars into the air, scanning the woods like a bloodhound hunting deer. Now far below, she can see the shuddering headlights of the van as it lumbers out of the trees, and she swoops after it as it bounces onto a main road and gathers speed.
Eventually, the van turns off into a side street and past a petrol station. Lexovia watches as the men wave to the shopkeeper, everything seems so ordinary. Brightly lit businesses with florescent signs run the length of one side of the road, whilst the other is bathed in shadows, a vast spread of deserted fields.
Some way further down, the van finally comes to a halt in front of the last business before dark fields take over: a second-hand car lot and garage. It’s surprisingly busy for the late hour, quite a few people inspecting the cars crammed in out front.
Lexovia goes down as near as she can without being obvious and hears the van driver call ‘Hello Rodney’ through the van’s open window.
‘‘Ey-up, Ed. You got those spare parts I ordered?’ Rodney calls, wiping the windscreen of one of the cars on sale.
‘That I do,’ Ed beams.
‘Brilliant. Put ‘em round t’back, then.’
‘Will do,’ and Ed drives around to the back of the garage. Coming lower, now away from the bright lights of the showroom, Lexovia follows and lands within the darkness of a field behind the garage as the van dips out of sight into what appears to be underground parking.
Lexovia begrudgingly realises that whatever they are doing down there will remain a mystery but not for long. She stares intently at the sign above the garage, its bright yellow lettering on a blue background flashing the name ‘Fixer Upper’.
Taking a mental picture of the facility, she then squints at the property next door: a plain building with cream walls and a black and white sign saying ‘Tyres’. For some reason, her vision blurs and she shakes her head, trying to clear the sudden mist that has formed behind her eyes. She looks back at the sign, this time seeing duplicates of it floating and whirling to either side.
Confused and a bit nauseous, Lexovia staggers away, further into the darkness of the field, before she can be seen. What is going on?
I can’t breathe. The air is hot, thick with a dampness that swathes my skin like a gauze. Resting my head on the cave wall, I try to catch my breath. The sharp rocks stab into me but not hard enough to make me move. I hold the torch out to one side, begrudging its heat but craving its light. The shadows it creates are far more inviting than the pitch black.
I take in shallow breaths, fighting the urge to just burst into tears. Why was I so stupid? I should have listened to Vladimir. I should never have come back. I only wanted to warn them, to protect them, but all I’ve done is make things worse. I didn’t want this…Not this.
I force myself to breathe heavily now, telling myself to calm down, striving to stay optimistic as my eyes start to burn. Hope is my only weapon now and the strongest I can ask for. The minute I lose sight of it will be the minute I give up on everyone and everything; the Coltis, the Corporeal—everything. I shove off the wall, sucking moisture from my lips. I have to get out of here.
Then a commotion—raucous cries that ricochet off the slick walls and the thunderous roar of a hundred wings—fast approaches. I run, my legs a blur, my calves burning and my pulse pounding in my neck, no idea where I’m going, only that it’s away from the horrific shrieks and howls closing in behind me. I see a large rock sticking up from the ground and lunge behind it, stomping out the torch in a frenzy and crouching low.
My breathing is rapid and I gulp to steady it, but my mouth feels like it’s filled with talcum powder. So I clamp my hand over my lips, eyes closed as the shallow breaths of the creatures feels so close, I can almost taste its bitter tang.
The ground shakes as they surge past, hisses and growls filling the air. I’m shaking like a leaf in a blizzard, pressing myself against the rock in a desperate attempt to keep still, and at long last the tunnel falls silent. The Exlathars have gone, raging on somewhere deeper in the cave. I listen, squinting into the darkness.
One. Two. Three. Four. I count to steady my stilted breathing. Time seems to stretch out forever, my hair plastered to my head, cold sweat drenching me, the hair at the back of my neck standing on end and goose bumps rippling across my body.
At last, my legs feel stable enough to hold me and I fumble for the torch before cautiously clambering to my feet.
‘Iginassa,’ I murmur, and a blaze of heat strokes me as the torch ignites, the flame flickering as fiercely as the fear scorching through me. Scraping my hair from my forehead, I race back the way the Exlathars came; it has to be the way out.
I’m almost delirious as I hurtle through the cave, falling into the walls, slitting my feet on the gravel. The air is getting colder, I’m certain of it, an arctic breeze caressing my skin from a distance; I’m getting close.
‘Come on. Come on. Come on,’ I urge my
self, adrenaline and desperation fuelling me. I just need to keep it together for a few more steps.
Then there’s a clash that seems to stop my heart, and I freeze before recoiling as though stabbed in the gut. The sound of a Teltreporthi—and I know exactly which one.
‘Milo.’ His name barely leaves my lips before, wild, I swivel away from the cold caress of the beckoning wind and the snaking silver gleam of the moon. I fling the torch behind me and charge back into darkness, almost screaming ‘Luminaro!’, not caring who hears me now.
I splay my fingers to the side, power surging through them like shards of burning ice, and everything around me becomes alight; the ground racing beneath my feet, the tunnel walls flashing past, discarded bones that I try to ignore, all glowing an ice cold blue. The whole tunnel is lit as I hurtle back through it, towards the sound of the clashes—towards Milo.
I’m dizzy now, cradling my heaving gut and panting through burning lungs, I feel as fragile as tissue paper. The clashes are almost continuous as are the furious cries of Exlathars as they must notice his arrival.
‘Where are you?’ I groan, sinking deeper and deeper into the confusion of passageways. I can barely see straight and every sound seems louder, every shadow more threatening.
I near a brightly lit room, ablaze with torches hanging from the walls, and barrel towards it, to where I was sure I heard the sound of Milo arriving on the other side.
As I lunge through its opening, my blood runs cold, my eyes shoot open and all colour drains from my face. The rapid drumming of my heart stays louder than the scream that leaves me as a horde of Exlathars descend.
They cascade from the ceiling, as though expecting my arrival, their black wings forming a circle around me, their bright green eyes narrowed to slits, their silhouetted lips pulled back into sneers, revealing the cold hard points of their hungry fangs.
