At Water's Edge_An Epic Fantasy

by S McPherson

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine.’ He waves a dismissive hand.

  ‘So, Corporeal can learn to be Teltreporthis and Ochis and everything?’

  ‘Nah. Basic techniques like mindle, gooshack and so on can be taught but the powers of the seven empires are unique, not even a Coltis can master all of them, let alone a mere Corporeal.’

  ‘I’ve mastered all of them.’

  Jude chuckles.

  ‘Was born with them actually,’ and Lexovia strolls over to the pond, watching the fish zip from one side to the other, never getting dizzy or bored. Jude stares after her for a moment, his eyes narrowing, then they spring open with realisation.

  ‘You’re the last Elentrice.’

  Lexovia nods and takes a seat on one of the overturned tins. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘No way.’ Jude bounces excitedly on the spot. ‘Of all the people, I’m meeting the last Elentrice. Dezaray’s counterpart no less.’

  ‘You are,’ Lexovia concedes, gazing up at the cloudless sky. She wishes she could share his enthusiasm, but there is something melancholy about being the last of your kind. Though she often feels accepted, it is far different to being understood.

  ‘Well, this is considerably worse than anticipated.’ Jude appears to reconsider his earlier gusto. ‘Catastrophic in fact! Dezaray doesn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘Thought you said she’ll be fine.’

  ‘Didn’t know she was impersonating you, did I?’ Jude stalks towards her. ‘The last Elentrice.’

  ‘Alright, calm down,’ Lexovia mumbles, trying to get lost in the lives of the fish again, anything to distract her from her worry.

  ‘Are you insane?’ Jude is clearly baffled. ‘How could you leave? Why would you leave?’

  Lexovia sighs but says nothing.

  Jude sits down on the tin opposite Lexovia. ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘I wasn’t really,’ she admits, shrugging resignedly. ‘I think I just wanted some time away from my own reality, to explore new territory.’

  ‘But you’re the most powerful Coltis, and the last of your kind.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘They need you in Coldivor.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What if the Vildacruz attack?’ Jude shrieks, his thoughts running away with him. ‘Isn’t it your Elenfar soon?’

  ‘Yes, Jude, it is. In a couple of months in fact,’ Lexovia snaps. ‘I’ll turn eighteen and supposedly the powers of my forefathers will be bestowed upon me and it will be down to me to save the world. Thanks for the reminder.’ She plunges her hand into the pond and splashes him with a spray of water.

  ‘Sorry. I was thinking out loud.’ Jude’s mouth twists apologetically. ‘I suppose I can understand why you’d want to get away for a while.’

  He joins Lexovia in gazing aimlessly up at the sky. At last, she speaks. ‘I truly do appreciate everything the Coltis have done for me,’ she says thoughtfully, ‘it’s just…well…I didn’t ask to be the only one of my kind.’

  ‘I know.’ Jude nods sympathetically. ‘So…’

  ‘So,’ Lexovia shakes the water from her fingertips, ‘counterpart convention, trading for months; go on.’

  Jude continues, using his hands to make the story more dynamic as he does so.

  ‘Those switches for months on end would allow the Corporeal to learn a trick or two as well as letting the Coltis discover a world without powers, but one with hunting, karate, technology and so on. Or, in quite a few cases, it was simply a brilliant vacation.’ He shakes his head fondly. ‘When passing of the portal became prohibited, my mum concocted this place with the help of a few Coltis who had got stuck here.’

  ‘You mean…’

  ‘Yep. Traded with their counterparts for one reason or the other and then were suddenly forbidden to travel back. In those days, security was rigid. Guards tracked down the portals themselves; arrested those attempting to slink out and mutilated those attempting to sneak in.’

  Lexovia frowns. ‘That’s vile.’

  ‘Well, in their defence, they had little idea what Vildacruz was, let alone what they looked like. For all we know, they actually did save Earth from an invasion.’

  ‘Suppose.’ Lexovia screws up her face, ‘So everyone here is trapped?’

  ‘Not at all. Most are ordinary Corporeal who prefer it on Feranvil farm – a connection to better days maybe. Some Coltis discovered their counterparts were deceased, naturally or otherwise, and so chose to stay on, designing bungalows and setting up shops or restaurants. We’re even in the midst of building a school.’ Jude points off into the distance where Lexovia can vaguely make out the outline of a row of buildings, some with bright, flashing lights. ‘Actually, after a decade or so, when security died down, passing of the portal resumed for those who had kept their gethamots. They tracked their counterparts, switched places, and to this day underground trading is still going strong. There are a few people here right now who only arrived a few weeks ago.’

  The sound of heels clopping on the concrete interrupts the story and they look up to see Mrs Edwards hastening towards them.

  ‘Lexovia,’ she announces, ‘there are some people here I would like you to meet.’

  ‘Gethamots are few and far between,’ states Fawn, a plump, elderly man with white hair and a greying, stubble beard. He fiddles with the remains of the gethamot Lexovia earlier handed to him, stroking the damaged edge with his thick finger. ‘There are none I know who would be willing to part with theirs, not to mention, the less who know, the better.’

  Lexovia sighs, slumping her head down on the kitchen table. If the only people Mrs Edwards thought could help her couldn’t, then all hope was lost.

  ‘Don’t give up just yet.’ Fawn places a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘There is one gethamot I know of that is owned by no one.’

  ‘That’s brilliant.’ Jude sits straighter, now resting his elbows on the table. He is about to go on but is stopped by Fawn’s protesting hand.

  ‘It may be owned by no one but that does not mean there is no one standing in our way.’

  ‘What do you mean? Where is it?’ asks Deetry Pebble from the opposite end of the table. She is a young woman, in her early twenties, with a perfectly oval, bald head. She wears dark purple makeup and has long, almost claw-like purple nails.

  ‘Dasherport Museum,’ Fawn announces.

  Everyone at the table exchanges glances.

  ‘You want us to rob a museum?’ Pebble’s pitch has increased an octave.

  ‘What choice do we have?’ Fawn sighs, resting his weight on the table. ‘For the sake of all that is good, Lexovia must return before her eighteenth birthday. For those of us who still believe we can win this fight against the Vildacruz, we have to try.’

  ‘So, you want to swipe a historical artefact from a heavily guarded building?’ Mrs Edwards stresses.

  ‘I do.’

  Lexovia recalls the museums in Coldivor: invisible force fields, shock barriers with effects strong enough to rival the electric chair, aggressive and abrupt Rijjleton guards and then some.

  An earth museum cannot be as secure as that, she tells herself. Can it?

  FOOLISH

  Milo. Just the thought of his name leaves a smile on my lips. I groan, convinced I might be addicted. The first time I sat with him here by Trilyot Lake, I was fascinated by the school and the wonder of Melaxous. Today, though, I sit hopelessly fascinated by his hand as he lets it rest on his leg, his blazer rolled into a ball beside him. I scrunch up my face. Who am I? The wind blows and his familiar scent surrounds me, making me tingle from tip to toe.

  ‘Do you know you smell like vanilla?’ I blurt, immediately clamping my lips together. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I long to snatch them from the air and ram them back down my throat.

  ‘What?’ he cries. His whole body shudders with laughter. I close my eyes, wincing, then lean back, casually resting on my elbows as if what I’ve just said is quite ordinary.

 
; ‘You do.’ I shrug. ‘It seems to be your natural scent: vanilla.’

  Milo shakes his head, still grinning widely. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘So it is,’ I nod.

  ‘And what about Yvane?’ he muses, staring over his shoulder at me, ‘What does she smell like?’

  I look down. ‘I haven’t really noticed.’

  ‘Howard?’ he offers, ‘let me guess. Roosenbick.’

  I don’t know what roosenbick is but assume it’s what I always see inside Howard’s sandwiches. I try to appear nonchalant as I reply, ‘I wouldn’t say that was his natural body odour.’

  ‘So, what is?’

  I sit up, flustered. ‘I don’t know. I don’t go around smelling everyone.’

  ‘Just me.’ This time he turns to face me.

  I have no comeback and shrug again, avoiding his gaze.

  ‘Hmm,’ he says thoughtfully.

  Risking a glance at him, I see he’s looking very pleased with himself. If I ever wanted the ground to swallow me up before, this time is certainly one of them. I rack my brain, rummaging for an idea to change the topic, but before I have time to think, Milo thrusts his nose into the nape of my neck. I yelp in surprise, trembling with pleasure and shock as he sniffs at me like a hungry dog.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I gasp, pushing him away but with no real force. He at last sits back on his heels.

  ‘Hmm,’ he repeats.

  ‘So?’ I grin. He screws up his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and considers for a moment. Then he comes back, sniffing me again, this time inhaling my hair, my ears, my neck, and my arms. I laugh, wriggling in his grasp. He chuckles as he lifts up my leg and breathes in my ankle. I squeal, falling backwards and out of breath. After doing the same to the other leg he finally releases me and I rush to sit up in a safe and sturdy position.

  ‘So?’ I urge, breathless, ‘how do I smell?’

  ‘Beautiful,’ he states. The humour has gone from his eyes; there’s no suggestive raise of his brow. Just beautiful, plain and simple. Our eyes meet and I feel the heat start to rise in my cheeks.

  ‘We just heard something rather disturbing.’ It takes me a while to identify the voice as Yvane’s.

  ‘What did you hear?’ Milo asks, his eyes not leaving mine.

  Yvane collapses on the blanket beside us, Howard in tow with his roosenbick sandwich. I force myself to focus on them.

  ‘Rumour has it, there’s something going on between Milo and Lexovia.’ She says it like it is the most preposterous thing she’s ever heard but eyes us questioningly all the same.

  ‘Really?’ I ask, my own eyes darting in Milo’s direction.

  ‘Yeah.’ Yvane shakes her head as she pops a biscuit into her mouth. ‘Apparently, their relationship has changed and it’s obvious they’re falling in love.’

  ‘What?’ I flush, forcing laughter. ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘Yeah,’ Milo says without conviction, still staring straight at me, ‘where would they get an idea like that?’

  ‘Who knows? Most important thing is that it’s not true. Can you imagine?’ This question is rhetorical and Yvane doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘You both need to be more careful, though. We don’t want to draw any more attention to Dezaray than we need to.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Howard nods. ‘We need to keep things as ordinary as possible.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Yvane agrees.

  As Yvane and Howard chatter away, they don’t notice Milo’s eyes locked on mine, and mine on his. My cheeks burn as I think about what Yvane has said; everyone thinks I’m falling for Milo. Everyone thinks he’s falling for me. And that is disturbing.

  Feeling breathless and out of control, I race to the bathroom at the first note of the final class bell. I charge at the sink and wave my hand over the small sapphire sphere resting on it. Immediately, ice cold water rushes from the ball and I catch it in my hands, pouring it over my face. I feel nauseous and hopeless, knowing full well that the only way to feel better is to go back in time and never dream of Milo.

  I clench my fists. How have I got so tangled up in a life that isn’t mine? I know I’m setting myself up for a great fall but I just won’t stop climbing. I know that, once I reach the top, the only way is down, but I still keep on going, foolishly believing I might actually fly. Convincing myself that I could somehow stay here…but I can’t. This isn’t my world; this is his. I don’t belong in it and I don’t belong with him.

  Exhaling slowly, I rest all my weight on the stone sink. I can’t face walking with him today. I can barely face walking at all. Rushing into one of the stalls, I slam shut the wooden door, lock it behind me and perch restlessly on the rim of the toilet. I gulp, swallowing the urge to hurl my lunch back up.

  My mind torments me with memories of us together: laughing, joking, playful and so astoundingly compatible I’m overwhelmed to think how wrong I am. A sharp sound escapes me and the next thing I know my whole body is silently shaking as tears tumble down my cheeks. The taste of salt lingers on my lips. Pulling my legs up in front of me, I hug them to my chest and sob into my knees.

  It seems like forever until I finally feel strong enough to move. All the voices died down ages ago and I’m sure I’m the only person left in the whole building. Washing my face one more time and pulling my hair up into a ponytail, I stare dejectedly at my reflection. I feel like I’m riding the rails of an emotional rollercoaster and I’ve just entered the first loop; everything is upside down.

  ‘Get a grip,’ I tell my reflection. ‘Just a few more days. Don’t lose your head.’

  Feeling steadier, I make my way to the school exit, relieved to see they haven’t completely locked up yet and I don’t have to call on Boonov and Choaks to let me out. My relief quickly turns to shock though, as I notice a figure sitting on one of the steps. I slow down. It can’t be, but as I get closer I realise it is. He must hear me coming because at that moment he turns and smiles.

  ‘I wondered when you would show up.’

  I stare, baffled. What is Milo doing here? Carefully, I make my way towards him.

  ‘Hi,’ he says.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Nathalie Booge said she saw you go to the bathroom after last class,’ he explains, probably noticing how dumbfounded I look. ‘I waited, and when you didn’t come, I asked Leena Shay to check on you. She said you were just standing there, twiddling your thumbs and running your fingers through your hair. It looks good by the way.’

  My brow furrows in confusion and I can’t be sure but it sounds to me like he’s babbling.

  ‘What looks good?’ I ask at last.

  ‘Your hair.’ Milo flips my ponytail playfully and I fight the urge to push him down the rest of the steps. I continue my descent.

  ‘You didn’t have to wait for me,’ I say, trying to sound light-hearted.

  ‘It’s okay.’ He half smiles. ‘I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.’

  I freeze on the bottom step as he jogs past.

  ‘Come on,’ he calls back when I fail to follow.

  ‘Why do you say things like that?’ I snap, erupting with pent up frustration.

  ‘What?’ he asks, walking on.

  ‘You say things. Like “Waiting for me your whole life” and “Drawn to Lexovia because of me”.’

  ‘You know why.’ He shakes his head.

  ‘No. I don’t,’ I cry, the annoyance clear in my tone.

  Milo stops walking and meets my gaze. ‘You don’t?’ he asks, sceptically.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t know why, whenever I’m with you, I’m right next to you, even if there are a thousand other places I could stand?’ he insists and steps towards me as he says, ‘You don’t know why every time I catch you watching me it’s because I’m already watching you?’

  ‘No,’ I repeat in something quieter than a whisper. I fold my quaking arms across my chest, forming a barrier between us.

  ‘Why do you think?’ he asks, his voice low.

/>   I flush. An answer springs to mind but I instantly slam it down. To believe he feels as strongly about me as I do about him would be almost as unbearable as him not feeling as strongly about me.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I retort.

  ‘Well,’ and he takes the final step, closing the gap between us. I struggle to catch my breath. He pushes some fallen strands of hair behind my ear, keeping his hand cradled around the frame of my neck. I instinctively lean my head into his fingers.

  ‘Let me know when you figure it out,’ he says. His thumb lightly brushes my bottom lip as he slides his hand away. I watch him, spellbound, mentally reattaching my climbing gear. I am in so much trouble.

  ‘Feel like extending our walk today?’ he asks, not moving away.

  ‘Okay,’ I agree robotically. My automatic response to him is yes, always.

  He slowly slides his arms around my waist, slower than usual, and I can’t help feeling it’s intentional. He grips me tighter and pulls me against him. Then, without a word, his eyes giving nothing away, we are gone in a haze of blue.

  We materialise outside a large brick wall in which stands an iron gate, embossed with twirling spirals, flowers and the words ‘Corporeal Ville’. Through the gate I see a stretch of concrete and a large imitation of Big Ben standing in the middle. It’s surrounded on three sides by buildings made of brick; brown and red. Milo keeps his arms around me as I take it all in.

  ‘Shall we?’ he murmurs.

  I nod and he lets me go, leaving my body cold. He grips my hand instead, almost like he misses my touch, and then taps on the gate.

  ‘Who is it?’ calls a high-pitched cheery voice. I can’t make out where it’s coming from.

  ‘Oh, just a few Coltis,’ Milo chuckles.

  ‘Well, do come in, dears, for a spot of tea.’ The voice cackles and the gates creak open.

  Milo grimaces. ‘Sorry, but this is how many of the Coltis imagine the Corporeal.’

  ‘It’s fantastic.’ I grin and allow him to lead me in. The replica of Big Ben is astounding and its tick is definitely louder than necessary, echoing through the grounds.