~2182 words
'Her mother is my sister,
Helena Randerfort, and her father was a Someone Randerfort whom we've never met—my sister never even told me her husband's name.' His tongue felt heavy, the words tripping clumsily from his lips. 'Helena's an
explorer and a tradeswoman—yes, is,' he stressed, when Malkolm raised his eyebrows at the use of the present-tense. 'She left when Arlene
was a year old, went off to sea—maybe to
Rek, maybe to the Purd Islands, but she hasn't contacted us in ten years and we
never really made any effort to contact her. I never really knew her. But she
left Arlene with us and I think, of all the decisions she's made in life, this
is one that I can truly ... appreciate.'
Malkolm cleared his throat.
'Does she know anything about her mother?’
‘Not much,’ Elborn said. ‘Nothing that can help you connect to her conscious
self, anyway. Would you be able to catch a clear picture of her from her
appearance alone?’
‘I’ve already seen her,’ Malkolm said. ‘Gold-brown skin, dark violet eyes, red
hair. An … uncommon appearance,’ he couldn’t help from commenting.
‘We’ve considered the possibility that her father was Sezari,’ Elborn said,
looking down at his hands. He picked at a hangnail. ‘She’s a beautiful child,
really, but … er … she wasn’t exactly’—he
coughed—‘popular, at the Meare. Got bullied a lot. Even the—the teacher, spiteful being—called her that …
thing.’
‘Zembarst?’ Malkolm supplied. Elborn’s head snapped up and he winced, bringing
his hand to the back of his neck. His expression was somewhere between fury and
disgust, and Malkolm found that he could look quite frightening with that look
on his face. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed, cheeks turning purple on his rather
plump face.
‘Yes,’ Elborn snarled. ‘That sickening—that slur.’
‘Does she have bad memories then?’ Malkolm pressed. Elborn was not being helpful and he could see
the town gates fast approaching out of the corner of his eye.
Elborn sniffed. ‘Plenty. More than the average child requires.’
‘So … bad vibes?’
‘Vibes? Bad? Emanating from Arlene? Anything
but—incredibly optimistic she is. She’d stand with an umbrella in a rainstorm
and shield everyone but herself from the rain, never mind that she’d drown. She’s
logical. Smart. Quick reflexes. Modest. I taught her everything she knows and I
taught her well.’
‘That boy she’s with is definitely helping her along, though,’ Malkolm said,
now waving a hand over the mirror, his brow furrowed as different scenes
flitted onto the glass.
‘Yes,’ said Elborn slowly. ‘Funny—I’ve never seen the boy around town before, I
keep a register of all the repairs I do, and I know ‘most people, so a friend
of Arlene … it’s sketchy, but she—she knows what she’s doing.’
‘Do you trust the boy?’
‘I—’ Elborn hesitated. ‘No, not really, I suppose. Could you hurry up with that
thing?’ He leaned forward impatiently. Now a picture of the Meare was floating
on the mirror’s surface, and Elborn watched as the image sped forwards, like it
was a carriage of its own. He could picture it to be an invisible bird—now
flying past the Labourer’s Cottage, the old man who had never done a day of
hard work in his entire life but wrote poetry
for a living, Elborn thought scathingly.
He watched as the scene shifted from
house to house, now to the terraced fields that were carved into the lower
mountains—strawberries glowed red in the light of the rising sun—and then the
image on the mirror turned into a blur of colours. Faster and faster the
colours spun, until Elborn gasped—he had seen Kelm perform this kind of magic before,
Prying, but he had never seen him do it from a distance. It was like a journey
of its own. Elborn stared at the image, fascinated.
Malkolm raised his glance to the Meka’s face for a second. His lips twitched at
his enthralled expression. Another quick glance at the gates confirmed that the
carriage had almost reached the gates. The silver gates gleamed in the distance
and the dirt path had changed to cobblestones; the carriage shook violently,
its wheels catching in the cracks along the wide road. It would take half an hour at most, he calculated mentally, for them to reach the city. His gaze darted back to
the shimmering glass; he lifted it off the floor and shifted it onto his arm,
tucking it between his palm and elbow.
When he pressed the mirror’s now warm surface with the forefinger of his free
hand, it seemed to elicit a sharp hiss. It was as if it was breathing out in
relief, like billows releasing air, or a candle guttering away to peaceful
darkness. When the image settled, Malkolm handed Elborn the mirror. Elborn held
it between them, his head dipping low over it, brow furrowed with
concentration.
The mirror showed the inside of a cave.
*
Arlene
nearly crashed into the wall—another wall, her fourth that day; she
had already managed to crash into three in succession. Shaking her hair out of
her eyes, she stumbled around in the almost-darkness of the cave’s winding
passage. Her breathing was ragged, but she relaxed visibly when she looked over
her shoulder and realised that there was no one there. Once she and Prince had
reached the end of the trail, they had entered the Meargro Caves, and a colony
of bats had startled them, deciding to chase them around the dark, narrow
passages. In the chaos, she and Prince had lost track of each other’s whereabouts;
and after being followed around by a group of nasty brownies with rather sharp
nails, Arlene was ready to crawl into a corner and live the rest of her life as
a toadstool.
She shook her head. She knew she had to get out of here. It would not do to
stand around in these caves, where goodness-knew-what creatures lurked.
Goblins, she expected, running a hand through her vivid hair. Perhaps a troll
or two. Mountain elves. Maybe she should have brought The Comprehensive Guide to Mountain Creatures along with her, when
she ran away.
‘How Not to Die would’ve been a good
choice, too,’ she whispered, clutching the sleeve of her dress between her
fingers. Listening to her own voice calmed her.
Almost at once, a loud ‘thump’ broke the
silence. She tensed, backing down the passage slowly. She would have broken
into a run had Prince not come running out of the shadows, tripping over his
feet and clutching at his shoulder. His left arm swung in a weird fashion as he
ran, like a marionette’s flimsy limb. Arlene nearly topped the boy over as she
ran to hug him. He let out an ‘oof’.
‘Wondered where you—I’m sorry,’ he gasped, shoulders slumped as he tried to
breathe. ‘Ran into—brownies. Fell ba’—he sucked in a breath—‘badly.’
‘Catch your breath,’ Arlene said, grinning widely. ‘I ran into the brownies,
too. I was just about to crawl into some crevice and wallow in self-pity
because I got lost.’
Prince shook his head. Limp, greasy strands of hair flopped around his ears. ‘I
never get lost here, the bats are a
new—er—’
‘Addition?’
‘Yes, that. Quixa must not want visitors. Could be someone else, ‘cause the
caves go in really deep, but there’s only one entrance that isn’t blocked.
Anyway—’ He straightened up and made a pained face. ‘Owh. I know where we go
from here. Got the path memorised.’
His face was drawn and white when he began to move forward and he let out a
yelp, holding on to his left arm like it would fall off at any moment.
‘Your shoulder…’ Arlene said, moving forward to inspect it. She squinted. It
was dark in the cave; the only light that spilled in was from a blinking
lyte-fixture hanging off a rocky protrusion. But even in the lack of light
Arlene could clearly see that something was wrong.
‘Dislocated it,’ Prince said, nodding at his shoulder. ‘One of the brownies
grabbed my hand and tugged really hard—ripped through the fleece, too.’ Sure
enough, Arlene could see the tears in the material, the white of the wool
matted with blood.
‘Do you … pop it back in?’ she asked.
He shook his head furiously. ‘This hasn’t happened in years. My brother used to
do it, but I told you—he left long ago. I’ll get Quixa to fix it.’
Arlene looked at him sceptically.
‘You can’t walk with that arm.’
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I'll walk with my legs.’
He ended up binding his arm up uncomfortably with a strip of cloth torn off his
fleecy jumper. He and Arlene walked along the same passageway, Arlene following
him blindly as he turned right, then left, then up a rocky incline that led
ever-deeper into the mountains.
Elborn and Malkolm watched the children closely, the mirror
clutched tightly in the former’s hands.
The rest of the journey did not take
long, and soon the two children stood at the brink of a deep pit. A gold
chariot was suspended in the middle of the pit, but when they looked down, they
saw that the hole sunk down into what could only be the depths of forever.
‘He’s exchanged the bucket for something nicer,’ Prince said. ‘Pity—I was fond
of that thing. At least you couldn’t fall out of it. Not that…’ He paused guiltily
at Arlene’s alarmed expression. ‘I’ve never fallen out, I don’t think it’s even
possible.’
There was silence. Then Prince cleared his throat. ‘Want to go first? It can
only take one person at a time.’
Arlene shook her head.
‘Well, I’ll go first then.’ He climbed into the chariot, careful not to slip or
shift his arm around too much. He looked at her sharply as the chariot began to
sink. ‘Don’t touch anything when you come down. Absolutely nothing, and don’t talk, and don’t try to reach into any tunnels on
either side of this one. See you at the bottom!’
The last thing Arlene saw was his pale blond head—she hunched over the pit,
watching as the chariot was swallowed by the darkness. Her heart thumped
uncomfortably in her chest. She coughed when she breathed in the dust that rose
up the pit. Then, she sneezed violently. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Her foot slipped on the edge of the pit. She sneezed again. Before she had the
time to process anything, her feet flew out from beneath her. She fell, her
screams clogging up her throat, bile rising up all the way to her nostrils.
There was nothing but darkness on the mirror. Malkolm snatched it from Elborn’s
hands, tucking it quickly into his robes. Elborn gaped at his hands, his face
white. Slowly, he looked up at Malkolm, and rasped, ‘She’s going to die.’
‘She…’ Malkolm’s words died on his tongue even before he had decided what he was going to
say.
‘Save her,’ Elborn said, still in that haunted voice. His shoulders were
trembling, his face turned from white to red as fury replaced his grief. ‘You’re
the Ixister!’ he all but shouted, voice growing stronger by the second. ‘Save her, use your magic to—connect to
her through the mirror, I don’t know, but she—can’t die.’ Tears spilled from his eyes, and in that instant he
looked more like a child than a fully-grown man. Malkolm shifted uncomfortably
on his feet, his heart twisting inside him like a rubber band being held over a
furnace.
‘I can’t,’ he said helplessly. ‘Ixisters have limits; distance is one of them.
I can cast some protection spells, but I can’t guarantee…’
‘Do it,’ Elborn shrilled.
Malkolm winced, then whipped the mirror out and rubbed at its surface with his
knuckles, muttering under his breath all the while. The door slammed open, and
Kelm and Garnet peered in, both looking worried.
‘Elborn?’ Garnet hurried towards her husband, who was now struggling to
breathe. She took his hand when he was sufficiently calm and helped him out of
the control room. Malkolm heard the ‘flump’ of the seat as Elborn collapsed
onto it, and he tried not to roll his eyes at Garnet’s soft voice as she babied
him.
Soft clouds of blue dust left his fingertips as his hand grazed the mirror—the
image on it was still blank, and Arlene had begun to scream, so he muffled the
noise with his cloak. The last charm cast, he tucked the mirror into his
sleeve. Breaking the connection would mean his charms would not reach Arlene,
so he tapped at the mirror and diverted the flow of sound; it echoed inside his
own head, a personal connection, but at least no one else could hear it.
He tilted his head up and closed his eyes. When he looked out the front window
again, he saw that they were almost at the gates. He waved his hand. The
controls stilled.
A tall man stood in front of the carriage, his dark eyes peering into Malkolm’s
own.
They had arrived.
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