Realmwalker

by Jonathan Franks

  Ivy looked at the ground and noticed that the lush, deep green grass ended abruptly and gave way to an earthy dirt forest floor. There was a thin fog hanging in the air across the border. She tipped her head upward as far as she could to try to see the tops of the trees, but she couldn’t. They grew upward as far as she could see.

  Herron chuckled. “You could fly up and up and up and eventually get to the top, but it’s miles up there.”

  Ivy marveled at the size of them. “I’ve never seen anything so big.”

  Herron nodded. “They’re magnificent. These are the second tallest trees I’ve ever seen.”

  “The second tallest?”

  “The tallest are in Pine Wood. The silver pines are majestic. Breathtaking. The tips of the needles are actually made of silver. They grow into it.”

  Ivy looked at him, wonderstruck. “Seriously?”

  Herron nodded again. “They harvest the mature needles and use the silver for whatever kind of magic and crafting they do there. Some sort of alchemy. I think the silver is important for some sort of potion making, but I’m really not sure. But this,” he drew his curved silver dagger, “was forged with silver harvested from the Pines. They made excellent blades.” He offered it to Ivy, hilt first. She took it gingerly and then turned it, examining it.

  “Do you know how to use one of these?”

  Ivy shook her head.

  “All right. I’ll teach you some basics.”

  “Why bother with all of that?”

  “It can be dangerous in The Rainforest,” Herron said. “Lots of animals, and beasts much fouler in there.”

  “I don’t have a dagger of my own, anyway,” she said.

  Herron shrugged. “We’ll get you one. But you really should know something about how to defend yourself. Here, stand like this,” he demonstrated a defensive, side-on posture with the blade pointing upwards. “We’ll work a little on some jabs and slashes and how to be on the defensive. You need to be able to move fast if something is coming at you, and it’s nice not to have a blade that will get in the way of your rolling and spinning around. I’m not going to show you too much defense, mostly dodging. We won’t worry about another fairy attacking you with a blade of her own right now, just about trying not to get killed by any creatures here.”

  “Okay,” Ivy said, trying to hold her new position. “Teach me.”

  “We’ll concentrate on the point-up strikes now. Most of what we’ll see in The Rainforest will be larger than you, so we’ll practice a couple of standing lunges, upward thrusts, and then some jabs and slashes while you’re flying. Once you can get those down, you’ll really be able to defend yourself.” He turned back toward The Meadows and looked up at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon, so we’ll camp here. We don’t want to be out after dark near the borders, here. Let’s set up the camp and while food’s cooking, I’ll teach you.”

  He helped Ivy set up a one-fairy tent, and they pitched it quickly.

  “What about yours?” she asked.

  “The weather is fantastic tonight. I’ll sleep under the stars.” He unrolled his bedroll and smoothed it out. “This will be the last we’ll see of them for a little while. You won’t see any stars while we’re in The Rainforest. The canopy is far too dense.”

  “Oh.” Ivy was still feeling a deep fear of the unknown. She was leaving all she’d ever known and heading into a place that her seasoned guide said was dangerous. She wouldn’t even have the stars to rely upon.

  Herron took the heatstone from his pack and removed its leather cover. He traced the rune carved on its surface with his middle finger. The rune glowed, following his touch. When he’d finished, the entire glyph glowed a warm red color. He placed a pot on top of it and poured in water and started tossing in some ingredients - some meat he’d carried and a couple of handfuls of various vegetables they had gathered from Ivy’s harvest. Ivy couldn’t help but smile watching Herron cook. He cooked like she did: mostly making stews or soups by casually throwing together random pieces.

  She rolled a couple of rocks over near the heatstone for them to sit on. She sat on one and watched the sunset. She was frightened, certainly, but she was also excited at the thought of seeing new places and of solving a mystery that could help her Realm.

  “What are you thinking about?” Herron asked her.

  “Just that I hope the going is easy,” she said. “And I’ve never been all the way to this side of The Meadows before.”

  “Clearly,” Herron smiled at her. “You could have come out here any time you wanted and seen these trees. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “They sure are.” Ivy turned away from the setting sun to look into the deep, humid forest. “If there are wild animals in there, why aren’t we worried camping out here, so close to The Rainforest?”

  “They can’t cross the border. It takes an act of will to cross over, and non-sentient beings usually aren’t capable of doing it. There are a few exceptions. The Sky and The River both have pretty porous borders. We use fast-flying birds sometimes to descend from The Sky to the lower Realms, or to fly us up to them in a hurry, but the sparrowhawks have a difficult time traveling straight from Realm to Realm, at ground-level, anyway. But birds are pretty smart and willful creatures. There are plenty of birds who migrate through Realms on their own.”

  “What kind of act of will?” Ivy asked. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you summon up your resolve and use it to push through the borders. You’ll feel it the first time you go through. You really have to mean it.”

  Ivy looked at him blankly.

  Herron smiled. “You’ll see. Don’t worry about it until tomorrow. You can do it. You seem pretty strong willed.”

  Ivy scrunched her nose at him and turned back to the setting sun.

  “Okay, let’s work on those knife techniques,” Herron said. They stood up and he helped her into the defensive posture again. “Remember that the dagger is a small weapon. It’s really meant to be thrust - to be stabbed with. That means that, for the most part, you’ll be wanting to keep that tip pointed at your enemy all the time. That’ll help you thrust in a smooth arc, and your blade will always be in the right position for a strike. Watch.” He demonstrated an upward-lunging stab, stepped to his right, then smoothly assumed the defensive stance again. “Now you.”

  It took her several tries before he was satisfied. He corrected her form, her smoothness, the strength and angle of her attack, and took quite a long time finely adjusting the position she assumed after the strike. “You need to be ready for your opponent to come right back at you,” he said. “Again, we’re assuming it’ll be an animal or creature of some sort, rather than another fairy. You’re concentrating too much at eye level. Like I said, most of these animals will be bigger than you, so look up, and defend up. You’ll be dodging bites that will come from above you and claws and spiky tails that will come from the sides. You’re looking too much for something coming straight at you.”

  He continued adjusting her until she could step back into a pose he was satisfied with, but it didn’t feel natural to her. They practiced until it was fully dark, then Herron set up a few lightstones around the perimeter of their camp. Between the pleasant, warm glow of the heatstone and the comforting yellow light coming from the lightstones, their campsite seemed as well lit as Ivy’s house most nights. When they sat down to eat, Ivy’s thighs, back, and shoulders were sore. She was working very different muscles from those she had toned by her farming.

  Herron smiled knowingly at her. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Ivy shrugged at him, thinking he was being the slightest bit condescending. But he had a right to be, she figured. After all, he was being made to take this journey with someone completely inexperienced at traveling and at fighting. He’d had proper training on both of those. All Ivy knew was what she’d read in books, heard in stories and songs, and now, what Herron was teaching her.

  “How about those?” Ivy pointed at the
sling and the bolas.

  “Ah, those,” said Herron. “We’ll deal with those later.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Ivy said. “You don’t know what I can handle and what I can’t.”

  Herron raised an eyebrow at her and put his hands up. “No,” he said. “You throw the bolas and you sling stones or these balls,” he tossed her one of the heavy, round, metal spheres.

  She caught it, but was surprised at how heavy it was. She held it in her fingers and examined it.

  Herron continued, “It’s just that it’s already dark, and you would need some practice throwing things and slinging things around, and it is way more work to try to find whatever you threw in the dark. We’ll practice when we have some light. I have no problem showing you any of these.”

  Ivy tossed the sling bullet back to him. “All right, then.”

  Herron grinned. “All right, then.”

  “Just, don’t… Just don’t treat me like an idiot, okay?”

  “As long as you quit assuming that everything I say is because I think you’re an idiot, which I don’t, then, deal.”

  Ivy nodded once, willfully. “Deal.” Then she smiled at him again. Now that it was dark, the crickets and other night insects were chirping and singing. “Listen to that. They’re way louder out here than by the village.” Then she turned back toward The Rainforest again. “How come we don’t hear any of the insects calling from there?”

  “Again, it’s the border keeping the noise out.”

  “It’s kind of unnerving.”

  Herron grinned. “First, you’re not an idiot. Again. Second, I remember I used to think so, too. You’re sleeping with your back to an alien place, with different flora and different fauna and different rules. Third, don’t freak out, because fourth, yeah, every so often something does break through.”

  “Oh, thanks, that makes me feel much better.” She pulled up a handful of grass and threw it at him.

  Herron laughed. “It doesn’t happen often, and it certainly doesn’t happen around here. But when you get to a place like The Reaping or The Crags, you can find some mean critters. The Rainforest? Nah, nothing like that here.” He turned back to The Rainforest again. “Then again, maybe we should keep watch.”

  Ivy’s eyes widened and she whipped her head around to look at The Rainforest. “You really think we --” She saw that Herron was laughing softly. He looked at her with a light twinkle of amusement in his eyes. She threw another handful of grass at him.

  He laughed louder. “Sorry. No, it’s fine. We’ll be safe here.” He took a sip of soup from his bowl, frowned, and removed the grass that ended up there. Then he downed the rest of his soup and made a satisfied noise.

  “Serves you right,” Ivy said.

  Herron tilted his head in agreement. “It’s a pretty nice night, but I’ll leave the heatstone on, anyway. No chance of it setting fire to anything out here. In The Dead Forest or The Brambles, say, that’s a big no-no.” He slipped off the rock and lay on his bedroll, only tucking his feet in. He put his hands under his head and gazed up at the stars.

  He looked very at ease, and Ivy naturally followed his gaze. They were beautiful, the stars. She often liked to simply stop and look at them. She had a spot on the roof of her house where she would often lie, in nearly the same position that Herron was in now, and watch the stars until she either fell asleep or got too cold and went back inside. She made an idea noise, and Herron turned to watch her as she dragged her own bedroll out of the tent, spread it out, and slipped inside.

  “You’re right,” she said. “It is an awfully nice night out.”

  He smiled at her, approval written clearly on his face, then looked back at the stars. After a long while, he noticed a shooting star. He turned to point it out to Ivy, but he saw that she was sound asleep. He stretched over to her and, with a gentle finger, smoothed the hair out of her face. He smiled at her again, and settled back into his own bedroll, bundled himself in tightly, and eventually found sleep, himself.

  chapter 19

  Gen and Jim were sitting outside at Custard’s Last Stand, a frozen custard place not far from their school. They were off school for an in-service day, giving them a three-day weekend, and they sat on a bench outside the shop, having custard in the sun. Gen sighed happily and rested her head on Jim’s shoulder.

  “This is a pretty good day,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  They heard overly loud, booming music from up the block, and turned to watch Scott Parker and three of his friends in his new convertible Mustang zooming down the street.

  “Ugh, what a jerk,” Gen said.

  “Cool car, though,” Jim said. “My mom had a Mustang. You remember that?”

  “I do! She used to take us around shopping with her in that car! We used to think we were the absolute coolest, cruising around in the back seat with the top down.” She squeezed his knee. “That was pretty fun. Whatever happened to that car?”

  “It’s in the garage,” Jim said.

  “Does it still run?”

  Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. My dad won’t even go in there. Like, at all. Last year, he bought a brand new cooler even though our old cooler was in the garage. He wouldn’t go in to get it. I told him I would go get it but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “No wonder you were so messed up,” Gen said. “I’m glad you’re coming out now, though. I love going out with you.”

  Jim looked at her, brows raised questioningly. “Is that what we’re doing? Are we going out?”

  “Well, yeah,” Gen laughed.

  Jim swallowed hard, and said, “So you’re, like, my girlfriend, then?” He tried to laugh and pass it off as a joke, but it just came out as kind of a weird clearing his throat sound.

  “Well,” Gen said again, “yeah.” She put the cardboard bowl of custard down on the seat next to her, took Jim’s bowl and set it down, then reached up and pulled his head down to hers. He was very tense when their lips touched, then the tension faded and he softened and they kissed. Gen parted her lips slightly, felt Jim tense and then relax again, and she slipped her tongue across his upper lip.

  He made an interesting noise and pulled away, gazing at her through slightly drooping eyelids. He blinked to clear his head. “Wow.”

  Gen caught her breath, too. “Yeah.” She gave him back a bowl, realized it was hers, and then swapped it for his. She took another spoonful of custard and held it to melt in her mouth, putting her head back on Jim’s shoulder. Then she sat upright and turned her head to watch a bright red Porsche turn into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn across the street.

  “Isn’t that your dad?” She asked Jim.

  “Yeah,” Jim said slowly. “It is.”

  The Porsche parked sloppily, passenger side wheels well over the line, and Larry Clark got out, shuffled to the passenger side, and opened the door. He helped a woman out of the car. She was wearing a business suit with a skirt. She took Larry’s hands and he helped her stumble out of the car. She looked very drunk.

  “Who in the world is that?” Gen asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  They watched the woman slip her shoes off and pick them up, then lean back against the car. Jim’s dad leaned against her and kissed her quite passionately, hands in her hair, both of their tongues visible between their slightly parted lips. She put her hands around his neck to pull him in closer and brought her right knee up to hook her ankle around his leg. He kissed down her neck.

  “Ugh, gross,” Gen said.

  Jim was silent.

  Jim’s dad ran his hand up the woman’s thigh and under her skirt and Jim turned away. Gen was transfixed. She watched him bring his hand under her now exposed cheek and up between her legs. The woman pulled her mouth away and leaned into Jim’s dad more, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek against his ear. After about a minute, she made a face - Gen was pretty sure she knew what that meant - and Jim’s dad brought his hand back out, pushed the women back again
st the car, and put his fingers into the woman’s mouth.

  “God,” Gen whispered. She felt a little shudder, guilty and slightly repulsed from watching Jim’s dad with this woman, but she was getting incredibly excited watching. “God,” she said again. She pulled her eyes away to look at Jim, who had turned sideways to avoid looking. Instead, he was staring down and their bikes leaning against the garbage can. Gen turned back and saw Jim’s dad take the woman’s hand and lead her inside the hotel.

  “You don’t know that woman?”

  Jim’s back was to Gen now. He shook his head.

  “Your dad doesn’t have a new girlfriend or anything?”

  He shrugged and shook his head again.

  “Okay,” Gen said. “C’mon.” She took Jim’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  She threw both of their bowls into the garbage can and pulled their bikes apart. His pedal was tangled in her wheel, so it took a second for her to get them apart. She tipped Jim’s toward him and he absent-mindedly put his hand on the seat.

  “Why wouldn’t he tell me?” Jim asked, quietly.

  “Aw, Jimmy, you don’t know what’s going on there. Maybe… Umm… Maybe they just met or something.” Gen wrinkled her nose in distaste thinking about it. She tried to make a joke. “It is still a one night stand if you do it in the daytime?” She tried to laugh casually, but she knew it was forced. Jim didn’t answer. “Sorry. I was just trying to… Nevermind.”

  “I know.” Jim hung his head. “Is that why he’s always home so late? Because he’s out with that woman? What else is he doing? What else doesn’t he tell me?” He raised his voice, “He doesn’t tell me anything! He never even talks to me!”

  Gen put her hand on Jim’s arm but he pulled it away. “He never talks to me anymore!” He yelled. “I don’t even know that guy anymore!” He got on his bike and pedaled away hard.

  “Jimmy!” Gen called after him, watching him speed away. She felt the tears coming and wanted very much not to be standing alone on the sidewalk when they came.