The Middle Realm

by Charmaine Theron

  “Ha… do you remember Kyros telling me that the Trinity represents the three Realms?”

  Elektra replied breathlessly, “I do… in the tunnels, when we were escaping. Could it be…?”

  “Maksimos also told me I’m the healer of all living creatures in the Realms,” Ash interrupted. “But… maybe it means something else.”

  “The symbol on the wall… there could be others.”

  Ash nodded – his indigo eyes widening in excitement. “There could be… and if there are, maybe, just maybe, they’re somehow connected,” Ash suggested.

  “For what?”

  “That’s what we’ll have to find out. But first, let’s find Chance and Zack. They can help us figure this out.”

  Elektra laughed stiffly. “Chance and Zack – together they have less brain cells than a Ghoul.”

  Ash rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched with laughter.

  “We should tell the Guardians… that’s a better bet than telling our friends.”

  “No,” said Ash firmly, shaking his head.

  Elektra made brief eye contact with him. “Okay… maybe they can help,” she conceded.

  “A Ghoul, you say… I hope you think more highly of me than that!”

  Elektra winked.

  After their brief discussion, Ash and Elektra hurried back to the rock houses and found Chance and Zack lazing around in their quarters. Ash told Zack about the engraving that they’d discovered in the temple while he had been sleeping. Ash also mentioned Rania’s idea that the triangular symbol had something to do with the Sphere in the Middle Realm.

  Zack’s facial expression morphed into anger. “You’re only telling me this now.”

  “You were sleeping,” Elektra reminded him.

  Zack clenched his fists.

  “And at that stage, finding out if the element spell worked on you was far more important,” Elektra stated.

  “You should have woken me.”

  Elektra snorted derisively.

  “Rania might tell Maksimos what we found,” Chance said. “She seems like the type who’d snitch.”

  Ash ran his hands through his blond hair. “No she won’t. She looked scared that she’d even mentioned their Sphere… so I doubt it.”

  “When are they sending Boulos in?” Zack’s red face faded slowly back to its normal colour. He released his hands, flexing his fingers. “The book might hold the answers.”

  “Tomorrow,” Elektra confirmed. “And about the book… it could be the connection in all of this. Sorry Ash, but maybe it’s not you.” Elektra shot Ash an apologetic smile.

  “It’s possible,” said Ash. “But it’s going to be a problem to get the book away from Maksimos once we get it back. Have you noticed how he keeps it under guard?”

  Elektra added, “He never lets it out of his sight – not even Kyros is allowed to keep it.”

  “When the Ghoul stole the book I’m surprised that he let Maksimos live,” Chance mused.

  “As I’ve told Elektra before, Maksimos is hiding something from us. I don’t trust him!” Ash paced the room restlessly. “It’s like a riddle… a clueless riddle with nowhere to start.”

  “But why would he want to teach us the element spells. If he’s up to no good, he wouldn’t give us the power so that we could use it against him,” stated Zack. “That’s just dumb.”

  “He’s not worried about the element spells at all,” Elektra said. “It has to do with the blank pages – the pages that a Guardian concealed long ago.”

  “Blank pages?” Zack said, a confused expression creasing his brow. “Once again I’ve been left out of it.”

  “You’re not the only one,” muttered Chance, “I’m still waiting to go on a mission.”

  Ash glared at Chance before he turned to Zack and told him that the concealed spells were to protect the Guardians from each other.

  “The only way to find out what they mean is if I cast an incantation over the book and try to reveal the concealed spells,” said Ash.

  “And how the heck will you know which spell to use?” asked Chance.

  “I’ll have to test one,” replied Ash.

  Elektra brushed a short strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it impatiently behind her ear. “Ash it’s dangerous. You don’t know if it will work. It might do some sort of damage to the book… or even to you.”

  “I’ll practise first.”

  “And what if practising the incantation actually casts it,” Chance cautioned him.

  “Are you second-guessing me?” Ash said tetchily. He lifted his hands in the air and mimicked, “Abracadabra!”

  “Don’t you dare?”

  Ash grinned. “No, really… maybe I can create my own incantation. I know how to conjure up mythical creatures, so what’s stopping me from making ink reappear on paper. Aella believed there was a reason why Maksimos never destroyed the book – this must be it.”

  Elektra replied breathlessly, “We need to find out.”

  Zack steered the conversation in another direction, “What if the Sphere is here in the mountains behind us?”

  Ash stopped pacing and plonked himself down on the corner of a wooden couch. “It’s possible… the other Spheres are located in mountain caverns. In the Third Realm, the Seraphians carved out the mountain around it and created the amphitheatre and the other chambers – the armoury, the meditation room and sleeping quarters. The Hajarans could have done the same here, but maybe they don’t want to show us for some inexplicable reason.”

  “They’re so secretive,” Elektra said. “Even when training Rania doesn’t let on any more than she needs too.”

  “So asking her again would be out of the question?” said Chance.

  Elektra nodded.

  “We should stick to the plan,” advised Ash. “Let’s concentrate on getting the book back first.”

  The friends agreed and, after Elektra left, their conversation reverted to their normal banter before they turned in for an early night.

  Chapter 13

  The Exchange

  Boisterous laughter reverberated around the open-air arena. Four centuries earlier in the Middle Realm the Hajarans had built the arena as a theatre. Now the packed crowd of two thousand Hajarans crammed the arena excitedly as they waited for the desert warriors who’d be undertaking the mission to recover the Book of Elements.

  Boulos, a young warrior with a lean physique, minced into the sandy arena. Shrill laughter erupted from the crowd as he flicked his shemagh over his shoulder. Elektra’s strawberry-blonde hair peeped out from either side of his painted face. A long, pale-blue tunic hung loosely around his body, effectively covering his masculine arms and legs, but accentuating his slenderness. He was a self-assured man and therefore didn’t appear embarrassed about his feminine guise. If anything, he loved the attention that it attracted.

  Stopping in front of Maksimos and Kyros, Boulos dropped his act and waited respectfully for their address. Next Zahir entered the arena with the desert warriors following in close order.

  Maksimos strode forward addressing the crowd, “Warriors of the desert… citizens of the mountain… today we go forth to claim back what belongs to us and destroy the Ifrit.”

  The crowd cheered wildly but silence descended like an axe when Maksimos raised his hand.

  “The Ifrit is using the book to get what he wants – and that, make no mistake, is Elektra.”

  Boulos stepped to the side and curtsied. “At your service.” Laughter rippled through the crowd.

  “Even though we laugh at Boulos, he’s taken on a dangerous mission. We’ve selected him because of his skill in acrobatics… and fighting, of course. With these, he should be able to extricate himself from the threatening situation. Once Boulos is inside the Ifrit’s lair he’ll reveal himself. His task is to eliminate the creature and escape.”

  “But what if Boulos doesn’t succeed?” a Hajaran man questioned Maksimos. “What’s the plan then?”

  The
crowd murmured at the possibility of things going wrong.

  Maksimos rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The Ifrit can vanish in seconds. The moment we send our warriors in, it’ll be gone… along with the book. Once the book’s exchanged, the warriors will return with it immediately.”

  “So we only have one chance to kill the monster?” squeaked a small, dark-haired Hajaran boy.

  “I place all my trust in Boulos – he’s one of our best warriors.”

  “I second that,” Zahir confirmed.

  The crowd cheered – they’d seen Boulos train and, even though he was a small man, he was lethal.

  “Aren’t weapons useless against this creature,” shouted a woman.

  “Yes they are. I memorised an incantation from long ago. This spell can be used to destroy beasts from the underworld. I’ve taught Boulos the spell, but the trick is for him to dodge the Ifrit long enough to chant the incantation – three times to be exact.”

  Ash glanced at Elektra. He’s hiding other spells from us, Ash thought.

  Elektra’s eyes flashed knowingly at Ash.

  Meanwhile Boulos grinned from ear to ear. Never before had a Guardians’ spell been imparted to an ordinary citizen. This was a great honour.

  Ash’s mind flashed back to when Zahir had advised Maksimos that he shouldn’t accompany the Hajaran warriors on the mission. At first Ash had been mad – he couldn’t understand Zahir’s reasoning for this. His last encounter with the Ifrit had almost ended in disaster. He had wanted to attack the creature even though he wasn’t certain whether his orbs could even kill it. So far, from what he’d understood, all weapons were rendered useless against the Ifrit. Only magic could destroy it. Surely then his orbs could cause it harm? Ash had spoken out about this and Maksimos had consented to let him go, much to Zahir’s irritation. Zahir was the leader of the desert warriors, but in the end Maksimos ruled this Realm, so his final word overruled Zahir’s suggestion.

  A horse whinnied, jolting Ash out of his reverie. Inside the dusty arena, Arabian horses pranced sideways. Elektra held Azraq’s reins firmly as Boulos sprang up onto the stallion’s back with his dress hitched up around his thighs.

  Elektra stifled a giggle at the hilarious sight. “Once you’re closer it’s best that you ride side-saddle. Like that you don’t look ladylike at all.”

  Boulos flashed her a wide grin. “Thanks for the advice.” He gave Azraq a gentle nudge with his heels but the stallion was riveted to the spot. The horse snorted in displeasure, not liking the stranger on his back.

  Elektra double-clicked her tongue and swatted Azraq gently on the rump. The stallion lurched forward obediently and trotted in line with the other horses as they exited the arena amid cheers from the Hajarans. The horses eased into a canter, heading toward the open stone door. The last horse’s tail whipped around the corner and the narrow gorge swallowed them as if they didn’t exist.

  By the time they had travelled for a few hours, the sun had risen to its highest point. The riders stopped briefly for a water break at a partially shaded oasis, but the reprieve was short-lived as Zahir soon ordered them back on their horses and they headed further north over the neverending sand dunes.

  Zahir pointed to the far horizon. “It doesn’t look good. There’s a storm brewing.”

  Steel-grey cumulonimbus clouds piled up in the distance – the turbulent peak grazed the heavens and clouded over the sun. Rumbling sounds spilled from the deepening mass, vibrating across the desert.

  Ash’s horse sidestepped, tossing his mane. Ash tried to calm him by talking soothingly, but the closer the storm edged the more difficult it became.

  “We should turn back,” Ash said worriedly.

  “We can’t… we’re almost there.” Zahir flicked his horse’s reins. “We might only catch the storm on our return.”

  “Does it rain here?” Ash asked, and then added quizzically, “’Just asking, because it sure doesn’t look like it.”

  “Oh it does,” Rania confirmed, “but only high up in the mountains.” She twisted around and glanced back the way they’d ridden.

  “I should have guessed,” said Ash. “The stream originates from there.”

  “Four centuries ago was the last time it rained on the grasslands which used to stretch from the mountains to the lake. Remember… you journeyed across the dry pan when you first arrived here – that used to be Lake Thamina,” Zahir explained.

  “In the mountains—” Ash asked hesitantly. “—do you have a—”

  Unexpectedly a molten flash streaked across the darkening sky. Ash jerked and his horse reared. Grabbing onto its mane he leaned forward to catch his balance as his horse’s front hooves crashed back down onto the shifting dunes.

  “Move out,” Zahir commanded.

  Zahir urged his horse into a canter and rode into the front position. The warriors streamed in double file behind him, in a V-formation. Ash rode near the back alongside Boulos.

  As they approached the rocky outcrop they slowed their horses to a trot. The charred tree loomed up, its bare, jagged branches sticking out awkwardly against the inky skyline.

  Ash inclined his head, realising what had caused the tree’s demise. “The lighting… it did that.”

  Rania nodded as she dismounted and tethered her horse to a branch. “We can’t get caught in the storm. As I said before, it doesn’t rain here, but there’s lightning – deadly lightning.”

  Ash wasn’t sure what he was more frightened of, the lighting or the Ifrit. He shivered as he stared at the tree hoping that none of them would end up in a similar state.

  “Stay out of sight.” Zahir indicated to Ash.

  “But that’s not what—”

  “I only agreed so as to keep the peace. I don’t want you near the Ifrit. If it sees you, it’ll be furious. You did enough damage the last time when you became irrational.”

  “Irrational. I was only trying to—”

  “Ash! The order is for you to stay here.” Zahir’s authoritative tone rasped in his throat.

  Ash stepped back out of respect, obeying his command. “I’ll watch the horses,” he mumbled.

  But as soon as Zahir turned his back, Ash’s eyes scanned the area around the overhang. He spotted a crevice where he could hide and witness the exchange. There was no way he’d miss this – not over his dead body.

  Boulos rode side-saddle on Azraq as Zahir led them down the rocky incline. While they descended, Ash scampered like a field mouse across to the crevice. The warriors circled around the lair’s opening, fanning out on either side, with Zahir in the centre. Thunder trembled in the darkening sky above and suddenly the day turned into the dead of night.

  “Ifrit,” Zahir bellowed. The word Ifrit bounced off the stone walls into the lair. “We’re here for the exchange.”

  First a whooshing sound and then a blast of hot air preceded the flaming Ifrit. Azraq snorted and flung his head in fright, flattening his ears. Zahir held his reins firmly so that the stallion wouldn’t bolt – if he did, there’d be no way for Boulos to stay seated. Boulos nodded and Zahir held out his hand. He slipped agilely off the horse, keeping his head bowed so as not to attract too much attention to his face.

  The Ifrit clasped the book in his hands, caressing the leather cover between his gnarled thumbs. Slowly he lifted a clawed finger and beckoned a Ghoul who was skulking near the lair’s opening. The Ghoul slunk closer, taking the book from the Ifrit. Slime oozed over the worn-out inscription on the cover.

  “This book… it must be important; more important than the girl.” The Ifrit cackled. “The Guardians are fools.”

  Boulos dipped his chin lower as the Ghoul approached.

  Zahir stepped forward and reclaimed the book. Placing his hand on Boulos’s shoulder, he said, “Go well young lady…” Zahir winked discreetly at Boulos.

  Boulos curtsied and glided toward the oblivious Ifrit. Zahir immediately sprang onto Azraq and clicked his tongue, urging the stallion into a trot.

  Ash
crossed his fingers praying that the Ghouls wouldn’t hinder the warrior’s main task. Boulos disappeared into the lair. And that was the last time Ash ever saw Boulos and the Ifrit.

  Chapter 14

  A Deadly Storm

  The wind whipped through the desert, swirling sand around them rendering their vision almost zero. Ash could barely see the warriors riding ahead of him. His breathing escalated, keeping pace rhythmically with his horse’s galloping as they braved the deadly storm together. Far behind, the raucous cries of the Ghouls sounded as they voiced their anger toward the trickster in their lair. But their cries soon morphed into something different – a wailing sorrow – from the unexpected death of their leader. Followed by another scream, a distinct sound only a man could make. A wave of guilt choked Ash. How could they have sacrificed Boulos for the book? What had they done? Was the book worth more than someone’s life? He’d had a bad feeling about this from the start.

  As they galloped further away from the disturbing sounds, Ash tugged his shemagh closer around his face so that only his eyes peeped out. They couldn’t continue in this raging storm and would have to find a sheltered place to stop so that they wouldn’t get lost. Ash slowed his horse and steered the stallion toward the closest shadow who happened to be Armaan.

  Ash shouted, his voice barely audible above the howling wind, “We can’t carry on…”

  Armaan shook his head. “After the wind, there’ll be lightning – we can’t risk stopping.”

  As if on cue, the wind ceased and the rush of silence thrummed in Ash’s ears like the sound of the sea resonating through a seashell. Ash relaxed, but a crack of lightening jolted him back to reality. Glancing over his shoulder he caught sight of billowing smoke where the lightening had hit the lair. The stallion’s flanks quivered and, without even nudging him, his horse bolted. A second crack. But this time Ash didn’t look back, instead, he lowered his body against the stallion’s sweat-streaked neck, streamlining himself. The next flash hit directly in front of them. Ash’s horse stumbled, narrowly missing the warrior who’d crashed to the ground. An acrid smell singed the inside of his nostrils. Ash straightened up, staring at the spot where the warrior had landed as they galloped passed – unrecognisable, charred remains were all that was left of the man before he had combusted.