by Tara Grayce
“Aren’t we just going to ride him?” Brett jerks a thumb at Trygg. Trygg has returned to his unicorn form and is munching on a thick stand of grass.
I snort as I try to hold in my laugh. It’s a really good thing Trygg can’t understand English. “You don’t ride unicorns. Not in Averell. They’re people too.”
“That makes no sense,” Brett mumbles. He has his eyes closed.
“It does in Averell.” I grit my teeth and pound the unicorn horn between the two rocks.
It takes another five minutes to fully grind the horn into powder. When I’m finished, I sprinkle some into the water, shake, and sprinkle some more on a piece of the dried beef in my pack. I wrap the rest of the powder in one of the empty food packages. We’ll need it later.
I shake Brett’s shoulder. He stirs and struggles to sit up. I have to help him the rest of the way, and he leans his elbows on his knees, head bowed, for a few moments.
“I know you probably aren’t feeling hungry, but you should drink and eat something. The unicorn horn powder will help.” I hold the canteen out to him.
He stares at it for a moment, eyebrows scrunched. “It’s a canteen. Wouldn’t you drink from a waterskin or something here?”
“Just because Averell is a magical kingdom with unicorns and dragons doesn’t mean we live in the Dark Ages. We have video chats on our mirrors and news broadcasts on vision stones that act like televisions and shopping malls underground built by the gnomes. The only things that haven’t taken off yet here are long distance travel and globalization of the economy. Society operates a bit differently here, and that makes those things less of a priority than they are on Earth.”
Brett takes the canteen and sips. By the scrunched look on his face, I don’t think he’s fully wrapped his mind around it. Which is understandable. He didn’t grow up here the way I did.
When I give him the dried beef, he gnaws a bite off one end. “So you have light bulbs and technology and stuff here?”
“Sort off.” I pull the glowstone out of my pack and rub it. Its glow is muted in the sunlight. “Magic is the basis of this world instead of science. So we have stones that are spelled to produce light. We had video chat capabilities before Earth did. The thing is, Earth and Averell influence each other, even if they don’t have much contact. The ideas have a tendency to flow back and forth. So while Earth was in the medieval period, Averell was also in the Middle Ages. Now that Earth is modern, Averell is modern too.”
“Is this the only other realm? Or are there more?” Brett is leaning forward now. I can almost see the thoughts and connections whirling behind his blue eyes.
“It’s the only one I know of, but I suspect there are more. Lots more.” I take out a piece of dried meat and chew on it. A few paces away, Trygg is cropping at the grass. “It would make sense that this realm isn’t the only one. There are probably even different portals into Averell or the other continents from Earth. And there are portals from other realms connected to Averell and Earth. Thousands of interconnected realms all influencing each other. I think a lot of our fantasy and science fiction novels are more than just fiction but are other portal guardians subtly sharing the stories and ideas from the realms they can enter.”
Brett stares, blinks, and shakes his head. “It’s...how do you not go crazy thinking about the universe being that big?”
I shrug. “Perhaps I’m used to it, growing up as I have. And I only really have to worry about two realms. The other realms? I guess it’s the job of the Guardians to those portals to worry about them. Perhaps someday I’ll meet someone who also is a Guardian and travels between realms, but odds are that, if I do, I’ll never know it. It’s a secret no one shares.”
Brett chews his dried beef, swallows, and nods. “So even Erin doesn’t know about this?”
“No.” I fight back a pang. Erin and I have been friends since third grade, but there’s always half of who I am that I can’t share with her. I glance at Trygg. “And Trygg doesn’t know about Erin. Or high school. Or any of that. He just thinks you’re a foreigner from a different part of this realm. That’s how this portal thing works. I’m always keeping secrets.”
Trygg glances up, ears swiveling, then goes back to eating.
When I face Brett, I meet his gaze. I need him to understand how serious this is. “It’s now your secret too. When we get you home, you can’t tell anyone. Not about the portal. Not about Averell. None of it. Do you understand? No matter how much you’re tempted. No matter how much you swear them to secrecy, you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
Brett pauses, then nods.
I don’t look away. “Do you understand? I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone.”
Brett swallows. “I promise.”
It would have to be good enough. I have no choice but to trust that Brett will keep this secret. My biggest secret. My family’s biggest secret.
Trygg plops down next to me. “So, are we going to get moving or are we going to hang out here all day? While this is a nice enough spot and all, it isn’t far enough from ogre territory for my comfort.”
I glance at Brett. He’s chewing the last bite of his meat. His face has returned to a more normal pink. He isn’t shaking anymore. The unicorn horn powder must be working.
“You’re right. He looks better. Let’s get going.” After closing my pack, I pull the strap over my shoulder and stand. I hold out my hand to Brett. “We have to get moving, unless you want to get captured by ogres again.”
Brett takes my hand and lets me pull him to his feet. He takes a step. There’s a ripping sound, then he clutches at his jeans. I catch a glimpse of skin through a rip in his jeans before I quickly turn away.
“Um, I...sorry, my jeans...” Brett clears his throat.
“No, I’m sorry. I forgot. Your clothes are from Earth. They’re literally disintegrating the longer they are in Averell.” I set down my pack and fish out the spare set of clothes. I hold them out without looking over my shoulder. “I’m sorry. They’re my spare set of clothes. Thankfully they’re nondescript so no one will think you’re wearing girl clothes.”
And he’s probably going to have to go commando since I didn’t exactly have a spare set of underwear. Nor would he want to put them on if I did.
I turn my back fully to him. “Sorry, Trygg. We’re going to be delayed for a few more minutes. Brett can’t go anywhere with his clothes falling apart.”
Trygg snorts. “Is his country negotiating for trade in clothes? Because they really should if their fabric falls apart that easily.”
I can’t explain that jeans are plenty sturdy back on Earth. “Something like that.”
“All set.”
When I turn around, Brett is dressed in the brown slacks and dark green shirt I had in my pack. The shirt is far too tight in the shoulders. Well, pretty much everywhere. He looks odd. Averellian clothes don’t fit him. He’s from Earth. He’s from the half of myself that goes to high school and takes notes and lives what is called a normal life over there. Brett doesn’t belong in this half of my reality. The Averellian, princess side.
But I have no choice now. My two realities have merged into one at the moment, and that would stay the case until I get Brett back through that portal.
I take the remnants of Brett’s Earth clothes and stuff them into my bag. I can’t leave them here in Averell. They have to go back to Earth with Brett. “All right. Let’s go. Trygg, lead the way.”
“Of course.” Trygg changes into a unicorn and strolls from the trees.
Brett glances at me. I heft my sack higher on my shoulder and set off after Trygg. With our delays, we probably won’t get back to the castle before nightfall. But at least we have rescued Brett, he’s out of danger of dying at the moment, and this problem will be solved by tonight.
Perhaps I can even get out of this whole mess without my parents being too mad at me.
Chapter 10
Gravity Takes the Day Off
A
s we stroll through the rolling hills, stands of brush and trees, and over footbridges across the occasional stream, Brett gapes and cranes his neck.
I don’t blame him. It must be something to see Averell for the first time. The colors are brighter. Bolder. As if someone enhanced the color saturation in Photoshop. The sky holds a hint more purple than our blue sky over Earth. The trees burst with greens so bold they appear fake. The shapes of the leaves are jagged and round and squiggle in ways no leaves do on Earth. The birds above twitter with odd notes and melodies.
Brett stops and bounces every once in a while, as if testing the spongy feel of the grass beneath his feet. All of Averell must be so odd to him.
None of it is odd to me. At least, no more odd than smart phones and the constant laws of science. I grew up in both Michigan and Averell. Unicorns and magic hold equal weight to cars and television. Familiar, yet both strange and wonderful at the same time.
It’s hard to explain, being a child of two realms like this.
The hair along my arms prickles a moment before Trygg halts and changes back into a boy.
He points in front of us. “Low magic zone.”
I’d been so focused on Brett, I hadn’t been watching where we were headed. Now I see short, scrubby trees rising from the ground in front of us. Their branches stretch toward the sky at odd angles, as if constantly pulled upward. The few stalks of grass between their trunks stand up ruler straight. It is quiet without birds chattering or small animals rustling in the grass nearby.
Brett halts and cocks his head. “There’s something...what’s wrong with those trees?”
“It’s a low magic zone. Sort of like having low gravity. Averell has patches of low magic scattered across the country. The banbaffa tree only grows in low magic zones. It has extra wide and deep roots to keep it from floating away.” I tighten the strap of my pack and glance to either side. The low magic zone stretches are far as I can see in either direction. “Trygg, do you think we can go around it?”
Trygg also studies the banbaffa trees before us. “I smell rocks and ogres far to our right. If we turn south, we would end up in the Ellian Forest, but it would add another night to our trip.”
Brett has been in Averell too long already. I don’t want to add a third night here.
“We’ll have to go through it. As long as we stick together, we’ll be fine.” I check the strap on my pack one more time to make sure it won’t float off me, and I repeat my words in English for Brett.
Both Brett and Trygg glance from me to the banbaffa trees. Brett’s eyes are wide, as if he thinks I’m crazy. But Trygg is grinning, eyeing the trees like he can’t wait to enter them.
I raise my eyebrows at Trygg. “Do you have a better idea?”
He shrugs. “Not really. We always had a lot of fun jumping through that small low magic zone near the castle. This one won’t be much different.”
Trygg and I have experimented with low magic zones before. We got ourselves stuck in one back when we were seven before Dad tied a rope around his waist and rescued us.
“Give me a minute to explain things to Brett, and then we’ll set out.” I turn back to Brett. “When we enter, keep a tight grip on the banbaffa trees. You’ll have to make each footstep as light and easy as possible and push yourself forward more than up. If you push too hard upward, you’ll shoot into the sky and will struggle to come back down.”
Brett shakes his head. “This doesn’t make sense. How can there be a low gravity spot in the middle of your country?”
“It’s low magic, not low gravity. Yes, the magic holding us onto Averell’s soil acts a lot like gravity, but it doesn’t always stay constant everywhere. Magic doesn’t work that way. There are high magic spots too, and believe me, you don’t want to step into one of those.” I can see why he is confused. He enjoys science, just like I do. And science doesn’t randomly stop working in some spots on Earth and work extra hard in others. It is a constant.
But magic is quirkier than science. And studying it is a lot more difficult because every time a magician tries to stuff it into orderly laws and mathematical formulas, it bursts out of its confinement and does its own thing. Just ask the court magician Ellis Melkor. He accidentally turned himself into a pink goat with blue polka dots when he was experimenting with a spell to have silvarans duplicate the transforming properties of other peoples like unicorns and dragons. While he managed to turn himself back to a silvaran, he still randomly turns into a goat occasionally.
I take a deep breath and stand next to Trygg. “Ready?”
“Of course. Just like old times.” Trygg flashes me a huge grin and steps into the low magic zone.
His feet drift from the ground, and he floats toward the tops of the trees. His hair drifts around his head. He grabs some of the branches and pulls himself forward, angling his feet forward as he drifts back toward the ground.
Before he can get too far ahead, I push myself into the low magic zone. The prickle across my arms and scalp gets worse as all my hair stands up. My feet leave the ground, and I angle myself toward the nearest tree. When I can reach the lowest branch, I pull myself forward, keeping all of the force and momentum horizontal and not vertical.
Brett is only a step behind me, though he flails as his feet leave the ground. Since his hair is chopped short, he doesn’t get the wild mane that both Trygg and I have. One less thing for me to worry about. I don’t have to warn him about snagging his hair in the tree branches.
I’m drifting down again. I angle my feet out in front of me. When my soles brush the ground, I push off with my toes, sending myself forward and upward once again.
As I start upward into the banbaffa trees again, I pass a flock of tiny birds hovering in mid-air, their wings only flapping occasionally to send them off in a new direction. When I break through the tops of the trees, a farffle—a rabbit with horns and canine incisors that looks a lot like the mythical jackalopes on Earth—soars a long hop a few yards away to land on one of the upright branches. It perches on the branch as it nibbles at the banbaffa leaves. Its fur is speckled with a few patches of bright yellow amidst the normal brown.
Brett breaks through the trees next to me, flails, and bangs his head against a branch. “That rabbit has horns! And teeth!”
“That’s a farffle. Don’t worry. They’re harmless. They often live in the treetops in low magic zones. They’re omnivorous, but they only use the venom on their fangs to stun small animals before they eat them.” It must look strange to Brett, seeing a rabbit nibbling on a leaf at the top of a tree. Rabbits don’t live in the trees on Earth. Or have spindly horns jutting from their heads.
I grasp a branch and pull myself along. The trees are thicker here, thick enough we can pull ourselves from tree to tree without descending to the ground. Up ahead, Trygg wades through the treetops. His long, black hair floats up and down with his movements, as if in a breeze even though it is completely still in the low magic zone.
The air is thin here, like being at the top of a mountain in the Rockies, or so I’ve been told. I’ve never had a chance to travel that far. I’d probably be breathing hard, except that pulling ourselves along takes little effort.
Trygg turns around and pulls himself along backwards. “Want to race?”
It is the same thing he said all those years ago when we got into trouble in the low magic zone near the castle. I’d said yes then.
“No.” I wave back at Brett, who is trying to reach the next branch without letting go of his handhold on the last tree. “We’d lose him in a heartbeat.”
Trygg snorts. “He isn’t some kind of foreign prince, is he? Because he sure is helpless. It’s like he’s never set foot outside or something.”
Well, he’s never set foot into an outside quite like this one. But I can’t tell Trygg that. I shrug and drift forward. “I think his mom is a tad overprotective.”
Trygg raises his eyebrows as Brett manages to do an awkward flop-drift-grab thing to get to the next tree
. “Maybe she has reason. Look at what happened the one time he wandered off.”
I swat Trygg’s arm. “Not every mom expects their kids to get up and run a few minutes after being born.”
“Hey, if you can’t run, you die. It’s the unicorn motto.” Trygg grins broadly, as if in some kind of joke.
“Not exactly a hopeful motto.”
“Dying can be metaphorical.” Trygg launches himself to the next tree with such abandon he nearly floats past it before he catches a branch. “Life is all about adventure and freedom.”
“And being reckless.” I land lightly on a branch a few feet away. “And we both know reckless is one of your middle names.”
“Unicorns don’t have middle names. Or last names. Why clutter up a perfectly good name by adding more of them?” Trygg bounces on his toes, springs, and does a backflip before catching himself two trees away.
Brett scrambles and catches a twig near my head before he drifts past me. “Is he showing off, or is he just cocky?”
I shake my head as Trygg flips into a handstand, tosses himself backwards, and flips twice. “Both, I think. This is actually pretty tame for him.”
As Brett gets the hang of float-swinging his way through the trees, our speed increases until I’m pretty sure both boys are racing and trying to outdo each other with backflips and twists.
I roll my eyes and bite my tongue to stop my lecture. They aren’t being careful, but they won’t listen to me if I tell them to slow down. They don’t even speak the same language—aren’t even from the same realm—but apparently competing and showing off are two things universally understood by boys everywhere no matter what realm they are from. If Ryan was here, he would’ve been right there with them.
Still, I keep up with Brett and Trygg, even if they are racing each other. No way am I going to let myself fall behind. I’ve spent too many years keeping up with Gary, Ryan, and Trygg to let a pair of boys leave me in the banbaffa trees now.
