by S McPherson
Drake folds his arms but says nothing. I shudder, now feeling cold. My eyes dart over his shoulder. I feel like something’s there. It’s the same feeling I had in the woods the night I crossed but once again I see nothing, not even the possibility of green eyes.
‘You know? I heard voices last night,’ Drake now says.
I stare at him, my brow furrowed.
‘They said your name,’ and Drake continues watching me. ‘Well, actually they said, “Dezaray by name, her death it does remain.”’
Everything goes silent. The murmurs of the conversations of others fade and all I hear is my shallow breath, my beating heart slowing. Something black shifts in the corner of my eye; I turn. Was it just the movement of that security guard walking past? I feel colder; I feel lost. I turn my attention back to Drake, and to my disbelief, he’s standing to leave.
‘What are you talking about?’ I say. He turns and walks away, signalling the guard to let him out of the room. ‘What does that mean?’ I call after him as he disappears.
WOUNDED
I rush out of the station feeling breathless and exposed, and suddenly all of Jude’s warnings seem plausible. I pull my jacket tighter around me as I hasten down the steps and head towards the coffee shop.
‘Ow.’ I jump as something sharp hits me on the back of my head. I glance back; no one is there…except that same unwelcome feeling that someone is. I walk faster, somewhere between a stride and a jog, then something hard hits me on the top of my head. Confused, I stop and peer at the sky, convinced there must be a logical explanation.
That’s when something else strikes me on my shoulder, something far too heavy to be a hailstone. Looking down, I see a rock and a quite familiar one. Hands shaking, I crouch down to retrieve it. I wouldn’t have thought that rocks could be familiar but this one certainly is, like a reoccurring nightmare. Turning it over, I almost scream as my fears are born. Carved into the stone are the words ‘Corporeal, Corporeal, come out, come out, wherever you are’ and in the corner, though I can’t be sure, appears to be the smear of Patrice’s blood after it struck her. That not so long ago day it crashed through our classroom window.
The rock tumbles from my hand, and before I’m fully upright, I race away. Another rock hits me in my back, and fear lodges in my throat, clogs my windpipe, steals my breath. Then another strikes and another. Against my better judgement, I glance at it and see it’s exactly the same as the one before.
I thunder around the corner, my feet beginning to ache. The walk hadn’t seemed so far but now the distance to the coffee shop seems to grow impossibly long. I dodge rock after rock as they drop from the sky, struggling to see through tears that sting my eyes.
This can’t be happening!
I yelp as another rock hits me. Trembling, I race on, throwing my entire weight into my sprint. I smack into something hard and release a howling cry fierce enough to shatter the stars.
‘Dezaray?’ says the wall.
Looking up, it’s not a wall at all; it’s the concerned face of Nathaniel. My eyes are wild and I struggle to get my words out.
‘What’s going on?’ Jude asks, immediately drawing his bow and arrow. Before I can find my words, they are both hit by a stone. Retrieving one and reading its words, their expressions follow mine.
‘Run.’ Jude shouts, ‘RUN!’
The rocks start falling faster, dropping from the sky like solid raindrops. I race on, petrified, shielding my head with my arms, blinking through them, batting some of the stones back as they dive straight for me. Passers-by stare at me like I’m deranged. I feel it too. The rocks slice me but I don’t give myself a minute to think of the pain as I swat them away.
Finally, we enter the woods leading to Feranvil Farm. The trees help shield us from the harsh onslaught of the stones but some make it through. Nathaniel constantly jostles me ahead when I let fear and panic slow me down. Jude blindly shoots his arrows into the night. None of us know what he’s aiming at; none of us know if anything is even there.
The walk from Feranvil Farm took us twenty minutes. We manage to run it back in ten. Ripping the boulder from the ground, we each dive in before the gap is truly big enough, cascading down the muddy chute. I gape up at the entrance, convinced something will follow after us. That’s when I see them, as clear as day – two shining green eyes watching me as I spiral downwards. I scream as the boulder slides back into place, shutting out the eyes on the other side.
We scramble off the ground and don’t stop running until we’ve burst through the front door of the farmhouse. Double locking the door behind us, Jude rests his head against it. Panting, I lean against the wall and Nathaniel slumps onto the floor. I don’t know how long it is before my heartbeat seems to slow down and I no longer see black spots dancing in front of my eyes. My dry tongue strokes my parched lips.
Seeing this, Jude takes my elbow and guides me towards the kitchen. Nathaniel follows. I take a seat at the table and Nathaniel rests against the counter whilst Jude gets us all glasses of water. He moves in silence, one which none of us is ready to break.
He places a glass in front of me and I thirstily scoop it up, downing its contents in one gulp. He refills it and I take my time with this one.
‘Thanks,’ I say, the sound of my own voice scaring me.
Jude collapses in the chair beside me and lets out an exasperated sigh.
‘We shouldn’t have gone up there,’ I admit.
‘I would say “I told you so”, but I think the Vildacruz did that for me.’ Jude pants with a half-smile, his usual spark diminished. Nathaniel joins us at the table and I irrationally flinch; my nerves still on edge.
‘Well,’ Nathaniel concedes, ‘I’m glad to be on this side of the ground.’
Jude nods. ‘Under gravel and rock you’ll find me. Safe beneath the Earth I’m hiding,’ he says almost to himself.
At last, we say our good nights and I fall into bed. In spite of everything, the thing uppermost in my mind is Milo. Like if I could only talk to him; I would somehow feel better. The sound of his voice would be my lullaby; the promise of his love, my weapon against anything and whatever’s to come.
Milo? I mindle, though this time I don’t expect a response and that’s what saddens me the most.
It’s only the next morning, as I sit on the veranda of the farmhouse, allowing my swollen eyes a brief opportunity to look around, that I realise just how many people are about, all fairly young. A group of men – early twenties I imagine – charge into Feranvil Farm Bar & Grill, full of chatter and with laughter in their eyes. I notice another group, around my own age I’d say, a mix of both boys and girls, talking to a horse riding instructor before each one leaps into a saddle and gallops off.
The sound of a gunshot suddenly echoes through the farm, shattering my nerves. Birds squawk wildly in protest and I almost want to do the same. I look to Jude, wide eyed and questioning.
‘Clay pigeon shooting is round the back of the barn over there,’ he explains with a grimace. ‘Bit frightening if you aren’t expecting it.’
I nod absently. My eyes move to Nathaniel; he’s looking around just as I am, minus the extreme exhaustion and terror. In fact, he looks exhilarated and ready to take on the world.
‘Who are all these people?’ I ask at last.
‘Oh, it’s not normally this crowded,’ Jude states, conversationally. ‘Just around the holidays. Most of the younger lot like to live up-top.’
‘Well,’ I sigh, ‘you two should be off enjoying the holiday season.’
‘We have a few more weeks of it I’m sure.’ Jude waves a dismissive hand but the fleeting trace of longing is fathomable on both their faces. I smile. I want nothing more than for them to have a good time. And knowing that right now for me a good time is lying in bed, crying until I drown myself in tears, I can’t say we have the same agenda. I place a reassuring hand on both their arms. ‘Go,’ I insist. ‘Go and be merry.’
Why won’t he respond? I fume, tossing a
nd turning uncomfortably in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever known. I steady my mind and breathe deeply.
Milo? I mindle. Milo, answer me. I need… Just please! I wait. About to give up, I sigh and wait some more…and some more. Hello silence, old friend.
Faint fragments of music pulse from all the different areas of the farm as bars prepare for the rush of customers. Though momentarily distracted by trying to identify the songs, I now remind myself of how little they matter, burying my head under my pillow and drowning them all out.
I flush when Mrs Edwards wakes me, somewhere around dinnertime. She’s kind, strokes my hair and listens to my tale of sorrow. I imagine she’ll soon leave me to wallow in my pity but instead she clasps her hands together.
‘Well, that’s enough of that,’ she says. ‘Go and get showered. You’re starting to stink up my sheets.’
I frown, not sure how to respond. ‘I’ll wash them,’ I say feebly.
‘No need.’ She nudges me playfully, the force of her exuberance nearly knocking me out of bed. ‘I’ll tell you what you can do, though.’
‘What’s that?’ I mumble.
‘Get out of bed and join us in the Grill.’
I want to say no but how can I shun the woman who’s letting a complete stranger stay in her home? I flounder, thinking of an acceptable way out. There isn’t one. ‘Okay,’ I finally accept.
‘Good,’ she beams, her tone seeming to indicate I never really had a choice. She pats me on the shoulder before heading towards the door. ‘See you in a bit.’
The cheerfulness of Feranvil Farm Bar and Grill is illogically depressing and I find myself struggling to keep a smile pulled across my face. My cheeks ache, my teeth are dry and I’m pretty sure my eyes are as dull as dust.
Nathaniel has got stuck right in, seemingly made for this place. He laughs and chats with the customers as he helps Mrs Edwards behind the bar; wiping glasses, taking orders, occasionally pouring out drinks if they’re simple enough. A little back and forth banter lands him a hefty tip and the good cheer continues.
As I watch him badger an elderly man into taking a full pint instead of the punitive half pint he ordered, I wonder if I’ll ever know such gratification, if I’ll ever laugh like that, free and unafraid. It’s going on a week now since I was taken from Coldivor—from a world of dangled promises—and the idea of laughter is starting to feel like a legend.
‘You could sweep the floor with that lip of yours,’ Mrs Edwards scolds, flicking my bottom lip.
‘Sorry.’ I show my teeth once more.
‘Don’t you bare your teeth at me, girl,’ she teases. ‘Go take a walk. Let the horses out for me. The fresh air will do you good.’
Grateful for the escape, I slither off my stool and head outside.
‘Don’t follow me!’ I call as I make my way to the stables. I haven’t even looked back but I know Jude is there. I’m beginning to think I preferred him as silent Peculiar Lad.
‘I can’t help it,’ Jude calls back. ‘Feels wrong leaving you alone.’
‘I’m not an invalid,’ I retort, unbolting one of the stables and caressing the soft mane of a black stallion. Patting its hind quarters, I let it know it’s free to roam. The horse happily obliges and gallops off into the fields. Did Jude ever consider that ‘alone’ is exactly what I want to be?
‘You’re acting like one,’ he states as he joins me. ‘Not physically, but emotionally you are most certainly an invalid.’ Jude unbolts the lock of another stable, releasing a white mare. We continue in silence, letting horse after horse run free, until at last all ten are cavorting along the hillside. I watch them wistfully, and a pang of jealousy strikes. What I wouldn’t give to feel so liberated.
‘I attempted to mindle Milo today,’ I finally admit. ‘There was no response. He told me it worked opp-dimension.’
Jude nods, ‘Aye. It should.’
‘What if...’ the words seem to dissolve on my tongue.
‘What if something’s happened to him?’ Jude offers. I nod. He places a comforting arm around my shoulders. ‘It’s a difficult time for them now over there. The Vildacruz have been trying to get their hands on the last Elentrice for years. Now the Elenfar is near and it’s only a matter of days before she becomes their greatest threat.’ Jude squeezes my shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if all mindling and other forms of communication have been put on hold in case the Vildacruz intercept something they shouldn’t.’
This thought is surprisingly reassuring. For once Jude’s reasoning actually sounds reasonable. I nod, sighing once more, and continue to watch the horses prance about the land.
THE FIRST SNOW
Hearty laughter and pint mugs thunking against one another come muffled to my ear through the front door of the Bar & Grill. I peer through the window, straining to see through its intricate design, and spy a collection of people, Nathaniel and Jude included, knocking back drinks and swapping stories in a far-off booth. I run my fingers unconsciously through my hair and across my teeth.
My hand hovers tentatively above the doorknob. Why did I think this was a good idea? Just a few hours ago, I managed to convince myself I was overreacting. Two weeks without Milo is no reason to fall apart. People all around me are enjoying themselves and perhaps for one night I could be one of them. Only it’s not two weeks without Milo, it’s two weeks until the portal reopens, but who knows if he’ll be there. It’s hard to say if Coldivor itself will even be there at that point. Out here, in the crisp night air, I start to reconsider my earlier intentions.
Milo? I mindle, but once again there’s no reply. I sigh.
I haven’t really socialised since I was twelve, which generally involved bopping around to ridiculous pop music and throwing on the skimpiest outfits our mothers would let us get away with. What are acceptable social conventions nowadays anyway?
A gust of wind unexpectedly rises and I squeal, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck. I look back longingly at the farmhouse as I rest my hand on the doorknob of the Bar & Grill. I told the boys I would join them tonight but surely they’d understand if I changed my mind? Whatever I do, I can’t stay out here in this blistering cold. About to remove my hand, I’m shocked when the door flies open, yanking me inside with it.
‘Sorry, love,’ yells a jolly bearded man in plaid, a cigar clamped between his lips. ‘Get your sen inside.’ He ushers me forward, closing the door behind him as he lights up. I watch wistfully as the door bangs shut. I guess my choice has been made.
‘Dezaray!’ Nathaniel calls and taking a deep breath, I spread my lips and wave. Gesturing to the bar, I indicate that I’m going to grab a drink first – and ultimately stall for time.
‘Hi, Mrs Edwards.’ I smile briefly at her when I reach the bar.
‘She lives!’ Mrs Edwards teases, waving the tea towel she carries around her head.
‘Indeed I do.’
‘What can I get you?’ she asks, coming over.
‘I assume you’re still allowing holiday underage drinking?’
She smiles broadly. ‘Only those who are almost of age. Besides, my world; my rules. What would you like?’
‘Anything strong,’ I nod. If I’m going to survive tonight, I need all the help I can get.
‘At-a girl.’ Mrs Edwards winks and begins pouring liquid into a fairly large glass from what seems to be every bottle spout and nozzle behind the bar.
‘Trying to catch up with the rest of us?’ a voice asks. I jump and turn to see a bloke beside me. I noticed him at the table with the others. He looks about nineteen with blonde shaggy hair, a slightly crooked nose and smiling hazel eyes. He’s also extremely tall.
‘Umm...’ I fumble for a response, distractedly pushing my hair behind my ear. Where is Mrs Edwards with my reinforcements? I glance desperately at her but she fails to notice as she bops to the music, churning the contents of my drink up in a blender.
‘Zack.’ He extends his hand and I eye it as if he might use it to choke me. Normal soci
al behaviour! I hesitantly take his hand and shake it. ‘And you are?’ he presses.
Recovering as promptly as I can, I shake the urge to reply ‘Lexovia’ and correctly say, ‘Dezaray.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Zack smiles. His teeth are as crooked as his nose, adding to his boyish good looks and rebel charm.
‘Here you go, ducky. First one’s on the house.’ Mrs Edwards appears at last, plonking my drink down on the bar. Her eyes immediately fall on Zack and she raises an intrigued eyebrow. I’m not sure I like what she’s implying.
‘This is Zack,’ I announce, taking a large gulp of my drink which makes me splutter and choke, as they shake hands.
Mrs Edwards laughs with delight. ‘You’re going to enjoy yourself tonight.’ She nods. I make to leave the bar but Zack touches my wrist. I flinch but he doesn’t notice.
‘Don’t suppose you could help me carry the drinks?’ he asks. ‘My turn to get a round.’
‘Sure.’ I force a smile and take another hefty gulp of my beverage.
After waiting for quite some time at the bar – I have a sneaky suspicion Mrs Edwards is being deliberately slow – I learn that Zack is twenty, studying sound engineering and living just outside Islon. His mother lives on Feranvil Farm so he tends to visit every holiday.
‘My younger brother stays here too,’ Zack continues, ‘but I try to take him up top as often as I can. Think he needs to see both worlds before he makes a decision.’
I nod, swallowing another mouthful. Feranvil Farm is still quite an anomaly to me. I can’t believe so many people are aware of it and are actually building lives here. He doesn’t mention his father, so I don’t ask. He seems to follow my cue by not asking about my own parents either. In fact, he doesn’t ask many questions at all. Perhaps sensing my unease, he handles most of the talking, smiling encouragingly when I do chime in.
