The Gem (pt.1)

Prologue

A child’s bedroom

The fairy lights around her head twinkled and his smile shone down upon her as he opened the book she had begged him to read from. The monster in the cupboard had been chased away after their special night time ritual; everything was safe now, for her. Finally, her dad settled down to read amongst her favourite toys. She laid her head on the pillow and watched her dad select the book from the shelf – he was so tall.

“Ready?” He asked, she nodded – a massive smile on her face.

“You did good today – keep pedalling and one of these days I’m not going to need to push anymore, you’ll be able –“

“Can we start?” She asked impatiently.

Her dad laughed and opened her favourite bedtime story.

“Once upon a time there was a perfect place called Myrithea. All the people that lived in Myrithea were happy and prosperous, caring only for peace and good will. The skies shone like gemstones above the castle at the centre of the land and crops bloomed in the fertile soils that surrounded it. Children played happily. Parents were unafraid for their safety. They would laugh together, enjoying the work of farming the land for the just and kind creator who they knew only as the Ancient One.”

She shut her eyes dreaming of the place.

“The day evil came into this world, two brothers, Petriys and Pilusis were playing on the lawns of their father’s castle under the rich golden sun. When the shadow of a travelling magician darkened the sun, the boys agreed to watch some of the man’s magic tricks. They were the best things the boys had ever seen. When he stopped the boys were so entranced that they promised the magician anything to carry on showing them tricks. Cheerfully, he carried on showing them magic tricks until they had to leave. Two years passed and the brothers forgot all about what they had seen until the day that the man came back. This time he demanded the castle’s greatest treasure. The brothers’ father had just that day told them not to touch his sword. It was the oldest most valued weapon in the castle, rumoured to give the user power over the rules of time and space.”

She felt her heartbeat grow faster with the tension of it.

“But only Petriys knew this. Pilusis just knew that it was a dangerous weapon. Petriys agreed to fetch it and, despite the objections of his brother, handed the sword over. Little did he know that the sword was a decoy. When Pilusis had been told that the sword was a weapon his first reaction had been to pick the sword up and throw it in the lake. His father had watched him for a moment, then slowly he had gone to the bottom of the castle were the sword had landed on one of the sparkling rocks. Picking it up he had made Pilusis and Petriys swear never to touch it and then had it replaced with a decoy.

When their father found out they had disobeyed him he was furious and as a punishment he sent the brothers to different sides of the castle and erected a wall between them using his sword. This wall was no wall of stones and mortar; some said it was made from the very light of the sun.

However, the wizard had charmed his way into the castle now and he asked more people for more things. Every time their father found out about this it reminded him of the sons who had betrayed him and so, they received the same punishment.”

Her eyes grew heavier and heavier.

“This is how the Divide was born. Over time many myths grew surrounding the Divide and the travellers but this story is the true story of their origins.”

The girl was already asleep. Her father looked at the next words on the storybook. She was too young to truly understand their meaning then.

 “The Ancient One saw what had happened and took away the man’s ability to create walls. He broke one wall and appointed Pilusis, the younger brother, to protect all of the walls. Only Pilusis could go from wall to wall. In time as the different sections of Myrithea grew further apart he became known as the traveller. Time passed and he took on two apprentices and when he died they continued his work, and the powers Pilusis had were passed onto them when he died.”

He shut the book and switched off the light. He wouldn’t be coming back here for a while. It was too dangerous. Taking the usual route out of the window he stopped and caressed her hair;

“This isn’t goodbye yet, Lillith.”

And he clambered down the rosebush back to where he had come from as his four year old daughter dreamt about people and places that were as real as her bedtime stories.

Chapter one: Lillith and the Bowler Hat

Lillith’s lounge, Portshaven

The music blotted out the sounds in the room like the curtains blotted out the grey light that existed in place of the sun. On a council estate in the middle of a town called Portshaven, sirens wailed as the weekend drew to an end. Tomorrow she would have to go back to school. Lillith sat in a little corner of the lounge, her music blotting out everything, the memory of the row burning through her mind. She longed for her sketchpad; her fingers drumming against the table.

“Dirty little nothing who’s going to do nothing with her life.”

That was Paul, her stepdad. Now sat on the other side of the room, rolls of fat lit up by the only source of light big enough, the TV. Watching and shouting at the Channel 10 news at 10. (Portshaven had once again lost the football. But their numerous fans were not taking no for an answer.)

“Come on you blues!” Paul took a swig of his beer and smacked his lips.

(They had stormed the local football grounds and the television was picturing scenes of chaos as people on horses tried and failed to calm the rioting crowd.)

“Yeah! That’s right! Hit ‘em where it hurts!” Lillith looked away.

(Post Office workers were striking once again, because of unfair pay.)

“I’ll give you unfair pay! Try and build something huh! Without my buildings you’d be screwed wouldn’t you.” Paul used to be a builder.

(An oilrig had burst causing thousands of litres of oil to be spilt in the Arctic.)

“That’s corruption.” Lillith’s mum came in and sat quietly on an armchair.

( There had been a break in at Sweet Tree Museum.)

“Where’s that?” Nobody was stupid enough to answer.

(Kids were going missing in the area.Now they were blaming lasertag...)

“Serve ‘em right,bet they get found in a bush in twenty years.”

Lillith wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, her eyes had drifted to the back of her mother’s head.

“I don’t even know how we’re related.”

Lisa, Lillith’s mum. She had said that through tears. Lillith’s conscience squirmed. Her fingers paused on the laptop keyboard, part way through logging onto Skype. Fry would be awake now, wouldn’t he? Her laptop had frozen and a rainbow of coloured stripes lined the screen blocking the screen from view. BUZZZ! Lillith smacked it. BUZZZZ! The television continued in the corner. BUZZZZZ! And then the television stopped buzzing and Lillith could see a man in a room.He was lit up by a spotlight but his face was hidden by his black bowler hat. He was sat at a table. He looked up. Mesmerized by what she saw through the screen of her laptop Lillith almost didn’t notice when her stepfather threw his beer bottle at the screen.

“She can see us.” The man spoke and Lillith jumped uneasily.

He was gone.

“You know the answer then don't ya Lil'. Skive.”

 That was Fry a few weeks before when she had confided in him that school was making her go to stupid report classes because of one stupid time when she didn’t turn up and Mr Jones saw her outside the shopping centre on her bike. Fry wasn’t even online. Fry had moved to Florida two months earlier and without him school was hellish. Not because of bullies, people usually left her alone. But because there was nobody to talk to. Nobody to raid the shop with. Nobody to play basketball with. She missed him.

 The day she had started at St Aubyn’s College, an older girl had shown her to the only table to the left of the tree outside the blocks of classrooms. Sat there alone was a tall gangly boy, at least two years older than Lillith herself. Lillith had squinted at him through the rare golden sunshine. He had smiled awkwardly.

“Looks like we’ve got another one of you.” The girl had said, sniffed when the boy hadn’t answered and walked off. She hadn’t bothered to explain what one of “you” was meant to mean – instead leaving Fry to explain the complicated clique system himself. The system that meant that the whole school would avoid them based on the stuff they liked and what they wore. Lillith snapped the curtains shut and turned on the lamp. Whatever.

Fry and Lillith had stuck together through all the awkward phases of their growth. Until Fry had been arrested the summer before. Not for shoplifting this time, but for assault. “He started it.” Fry had always been the one to stand up for them at school. She had just stayed in the background. She turned on her laptop. What time would it be in the USA now? 6 in the morning. She could leave a message. He’d get the message. Of course he would. Fry would remember her amidst his new life with his shiny new family, whilst she was stuck in Portshaven waiting for the new school year to start. Syd, his social worker had decided that Fry needed a new start. When Syd had tried to suggest that it might be Fry’s friends influence – Fry had nearly kicked off again. The last time they had properly seen each other had been one rainy day where they had promised to stay in contact. Outside the fog pasted train station, over the din of parting trains, they had given each other a hug. Then, Fry and his bag had left.

“And remember kids, the Divide will be broken. Crack the Gate.”  

Lillith paused and looked at the TV.

“Crack the Gate - The biggest festival to hit Portshaven since Heinz fest...book your tickets now, don’t be late.” She shrugged. Getting up with one headphone still in, she went to bed. She wasn’t sleeping enough that had to be it. She’d always had funny sleeping patterns, but this was just getting stupid. Crazy men with bowler hats didn’t exist in this century.

Unknown to her a man with a bowler hat bent down and stroked her hair, just like every other night.

“Goodnight Lillith.”

On Earth, the sun is shining and the birds are singing. Lillith and Fry are laughing. Fry is holding a basketball tantalisingly out of Lillith’s reach and brushing the trees with the top of his ginger head and the sun’s welcoming golden rays bounce off him as Lillith jumps to try and reach the ball. The railings are winking at her in the sunlight, even their peeling coats of paint make this place appealing, familiar, encouraging her to jump higher and higher and higher and higher, until suddenly- she is flying! Up and over the uniform brown rooftops, skimming the murky green river, soaring over the cathedral tower, and her stomach drops.

 Because she realises that Fry has gone and she is in an entirely different world. Alone. She’s running down a whitewashed corridor. All she can hear is the sound of her own feet smacking the metal floor. She doesn’t know where she is because the sky outside is pitch black. The closest thing to light comes from the flickering white light bulbs spaced exactly on the ceiling above her. The door behind her slams shut. The light bulbs start to flicker.

Off.

On.

Off again.

 She turns around.

BLEEP!

Lillith hand smashed down onto her alarm clock.

Lillith ran out of the house not even stopping for the smell of French toast that wafted through the kitchen, bolting past the chemist’s to avoid passing the newsagents (they might actually recognize her), her mind drifted away in the action of running until something smashed into her knees. Catapulted through the air she landed next to the board and groaned. She’d actually have to go to report today. Slowly, she got up onto her knees reaching for the books and pens that had spilled out of her bag as she had fallen over. Her knees stung.

“Ahh...”

“OI” Someone yelled behind her, causing her to move like someone who had been struck by lightning. The next thing she felt was someone lifting her by the scruff of her neck. Great.

“I’ve just about had it with you estate kids,” the voice said, “What school you go to then? St Aubyn’s? They’ll sort you out, not like your parents have done a great job by the sound of-,” the guy was cut off by Lillith’s renewed thrashing.

That was how Lillith found herself in the cooler for the third day running.

Her headphones were pink. They’d been the only ones small enough to slip into her back pocket away from the cameras. The security guy had been too busy calming a furious Fry down to notice when the alarm had gone off. That had been easy, but the next time Lillith went back there they had a poster with her description on it. So she hadn’t gone back there again. And over time, the headphones had deteriorated so much that only one of them worked, and it was like this that Lillith stood looking outside the window. Her phone went off. Some mass message about some kid. She didn’t really want to look at it. Delete.

I see your true colours and that’s why I love you. The song that had played at her parents wedding. Lillith looked out of the window at the stone angel that stood guard over the gates to the school. It was a monument, a minimal piece of sculpture dedicated to the people that had died at the theatre that day. “That’s all they gave dad.” Lillith thought out loud at the grey sky. And then stopped as someone coughed awkwardly at the door. Her sketchbook was wide open at the table.

“So,” Bennett said as he walked in, “You’re her. Lillith Bridgestone. Kid that won’t come to my Report Sessions? What is it? I know I talk funny but...hey...” He drifted off as Lillith maintained a stony silence.

“That’s not going to help you now. The headmaster’s got involved. If I don’t see you there this afternoon – I gotter tell him. And you’ll be suspended.”

Lillith stayed quiet.

“Weren’t so quiet this morning, were we?”

After another couple of minutes of silence Bennett picked up the sketchbook, Lillith moved forward involuntarily.

“I see...don’t like anyone seeing your work?”

She half nodded, snapping the book shut.

“I was the same at your age, maybe you’ll like the project we’re going to start this afternoon?”

And he left her in the cooler.

Lillith found herself waiting outside a classroom for the session at three. Everyone else had gone home apart from them. The corridor smelt stale. There were twenty of them, the worst behaved kids in school. She stood her back to the wall and flicked through her MP3.

As Lillith walked into the room the group was just starting to arrive. She made her way to the table at the very back of the room and sat down quietly. The people in the classroom with her didn’t look twice at her. Most of them had their phones pointed in the other direction.

 “Fight!”

Somebody was getting beaten up. His glasses smashed on the floor.

“Fight!”

There was a crowd gathering by the door to the classroom. Lillith heard somebody muttering to a mate, S’the Farnhole.

The kid, Lillith remembered was called Todd. Todd Farnough. Ever since one fateful day in the school canteen he had been nicknamed “Farnhole.”

Something cracked. His nose? His sandy blonde hair was hanging in tufts. The school bully, Ty was smashing his head against the floor.

“D’you want more Farnie?!”

Lillith shrunk into her seat, wishing the ground would swallow her up before she had to decide whether to try and help. It was the kid in the photo. The kid who they were always beating up for being richer than them and talking funny.

At that point somebody opened the door. Ty had his back turned and was busy attacking this guy, so when the man who had just entered the room hoisted him off the boy and set him on the ground.

“Ty, what were you doing?” the man asked him solemnly. No shouting.

“He started on me, so I battered him.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t talk, did he though?”

“How did he start on you then, if he didn’t say anything?”

“He looked at me funny, didn’t he fam’?”

“Funny how?” Mr Bennett’s voice had taken on a dangerous tone now.

“Different.”

“Ty, wake up, you are here because you are different. You are here because people are scared of you. Get over it. If I ever hear that you are threatening or hurting people in the group again I will make it so that you never return.”  Mr Bennett’s voice had made the whole room go quiet now, everyone’s eyes on him. Ty just nodded and muttered something and sat down next to Lillith, in the only spare seat. Lillith shuffled to the other side of the seat, he mouse coloured hair creating a wall between them, snuggling into her hoodie for protection. Mr Bennett turned to the blackboard and coughed loudly, nobody made a move. They were all too shocked by his outburst.

He coughed and turned to the white board.

The classroom stayed quiet.

Mr Tom Bennett was the pole opposite to the man that had sent Lillith to Special Report; he wanted to make his students passionate. He wanted to make them care about something other than how unfair their lives could be, as he put it, ‘life’s more than a gang- kids, read poems.’ This sometimes made him the butt of their jokes, but mostly gave him an aura of respect that made them listen to him. There were a few catcalls from the class at this point. The man went to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk. School had finished early because of prize giving that day. So, that’s why the class was smaller than usual. Most people had just left it to go home. Stupid, you should have made like you had prizegiving. Now you’ll have to come back... Lillith sighed and wondered what Fry might be doing at the moment.

“Yo, Mr B- what are we doin’ for our next project then?” Someone piped up.

“I have decided,” the man – Mr Bennett- began,” that we shall be learning about fantasy art.”There were moans from the class. Lillith looked up. Time went like sticky toffee. For Lillith anyway. Ty tapped her shoulder and gestured at the table. Lillith looked at it, pausing, she directed her gaze at Ty’s knees where a clear plastic bag containing some white powder lay. He winked at her. She turned her head in the other direction. Too much drama the Fry in her head agreed, they’d never liked drama.

“We will hopefully getting a couple of local artists in to talk to us about their influences and we might take a school trip to the museum.”

They groaned.

Sweet Tree Museum (The Archive)

Meanwhile, sun shone through the windows of the Sweet Tree Museum. But the Curator was far too busy to take any notice of the weather. He eyed the slashed painting nervously, the black ink seeped across the canvas like some symbol of evil. So they’d been here too then? Pissing. Excellent. Good thing they didn’t know what day she’d be coming. They’d been pulling stunts like this for weeks now, which meant that he knew she’d have to come here too. This meant that this sacred place had to become visible to the people that lived on earth. That was dangerous. He coughed.

“Anna!” He called, “Anna turn the lights on would you?”

As long as the lights were on they couldn’t get to him. In answer to his request, floodlights lit the entrance hall. He breathed a sigh of relief. The Agents couldn’t get in, but the damage had already been done. Nobody was getting out of that painting anytime soon. Seriously, he took out a pen and put a cross by the word Berthia on his oversized clipboard.

“Another collapse and Lillith’s coming next week...I don’t have much time...” He coughed and dropped his clipboard. Blood stained his handkerchief.