= Chapter one =
There is a lot to be said about wasting time. People are doing it everywhere, some even sub-consciously. It’s all to do with trying to fill the empty space between one activity and another. The most common way to waste time is talking. We all do it, and it’s always a time waster. But sometimes, it can prove more useful than people think.
This is what Ryan Miller was doing on that Thursday evening. He was wasting time. He was complaining to his mother about how he had wasted the previous fourteen years of his life. His mother was sighing, and telling him there was no point in worrying about things that are either in the past, or things that can’t be helped. It was a way of life that people made mistakes, meaning most of the time, you either learned from them...or repeated them. And in most cases, it resulted in the second option.
Ryan sighed, running his slender fingers through his ear-length, brown hair. He could sense that his mother was right, and that it was useless complaining about things that couldn’t be helped. He decided to take it like a man. But thinking that reminded Ryan of his father. Or, more commonly known to him as ‘the git who rejected his family’. His older sister, and his mother most commonly used this statement. Distant memories filled Ryan’s head, of his father promising to be there at his very first football game. Broken promises, shattered with the cold stab of reality. Ryan had only been three years old, when his father had walked out of his life, never to be seen again. Rumour was he was now running around with his sister’s boyfriend.
But this was not what had caught Ryan’s attention in his dull life. It was how differently he had acted when he was younger. When all the other boys had been kissing girls in the playground, Ryan had been sitting alone in the corner, drawing or painting. Ryan had been born with the very rare and unique gift of being able to express himself in art.
When other people were keeping diaries, he would often be found spreading a paintbrush across a page, and watching the colours merge into one story of his dreams. His room was plastered with pieces of paper, and books filled with brightly coloured papers. And each sheet told a new story. Anyone found looking at Ryan’s pieces were baffled by their greatness. It was fascinating to see how somebody so young could express such a fabulous talent.
Ryan turned back to his mother, only to find her staring into the television. The kitchen, with only a table, a cooker, two surfaces, and the television, was so small you could place one hand upon one wall, and the other upon the opposite wall. Easily. Ryan pulled out a wooden chair from under the table, and sat upon its hard, unwelcoming surface. He rested his head in his hands, wishing his life had turned out some other way. His sixteen-year-old sister was on drugs unbeknown to his mother, he lived his life doing chores at home and nothing at school, and the highlight of his life were the benefits his family was on. Ryan muttered under his breath, ‘some life’, before returning to the conversation with his mother. He reached across the table to the counter, and switched off the television.
“What did you do that for?” asked his mother, through a cough.
“I need to talk to you,” Ryan replied calmly, ignoring the pounding base from his sister’s music upstairs.
“Well...? Hurry up, I need to go to the shop.” Now that Ryan had his mother’s attention, he found it impossible to converse with her. He had known exactly what he wanted to say; yet when faced with the challenge of speaking it, neither word nor sound would depart from his mouth. Ryan admitted his defeat, sighing as he uttered that what he had to say was of no importance. His mother stood up. The old chair grinded against the yellow marble floor, sending a chill up his spine. As his mother left the house, Ryan felt upset about not being able to be open to his mother. All he wanted to say was “I need a little more money for school on Monday; there’s a football team starting up and I want to join.” But his mother was so miserly with their little money that he knew that asking would be pointless.
How Ryan wished he could be anywhere else. It occurred to him that were it not for his paintings to comfort him, Ryan might have abandoned his life long ago. But time to think about that issue was gone, as his sister’s voice yelled down the stairs. He found it strange that she would rather battle with the music, than turn it down and speak normally. But he obeyed his sister’s command to bring her up some water.
Ryan reached into the cupboard. He pulled out a glass. Its surface was so old, that dust had stained its side. He pushed the lever, which controlled the water at the sink. He watched, as water gushed out, and the foamy liquid filled the glass. Water trickled down the side, as the glass over flowed. Ryan was reminded of a waterfall, and smiled to himself as he thought of the strength and the gracefulness of a waterfall gave it a majestic feel.
Ryan started up the grey-carpet stairs. The feel on his bare feet was like sandpaper. The worn out carpet had long since done its duty, and was only lying pitifully on the stair because Ryan’s mum had not worked up enough strength to replace it.
Ryan stopped suddenly. The slender tumbler almost slipped out of his grasp. The house had turned silent, an odd thing to occur. Ryan had just walked up the seventh stair. But a sudden chill had come over him, and he could hear nothing. Nothing, except for a high-pitched ring. Like a dog whistle. There were cold beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and the ringing was clouding his vision. There was no scent in the air, only that of a mustiness. But that was the stairs, it always had been. Ryan heard a voice calling his name over and over. But its owner was not familiar to Ryan’s ears. It was a girl’s voice, and she seemed to be in pain. Ryan tried to listen harder, to try and decipher who she was. But the voice was already fading, the ringing subsiding, and his vision coming back. Ryan waited, and strained his ears, trying to find a clue...anything to help him discover who that person had been. But before he knew it, Ryan was standing on the stair, his right foot poised above the eighth, and the clear drumming of Sarah’s music had once again taken hold of his ears.
Ryan climbed the remaining distance of the stairs. He knocked twice on his sister’s door, observing the various ‘decorations’ she had placed there. Pictures of her and her boyfriend lined the outside of the door, and her name was printed in stickers. The door handle crept down, and Sarah opened the door. The loud music almost knocked Ryan off his feet. He handed the glass to his sister. Their eyes met, and she smiled, mouthing the word ‘thank you’. She closed the door gently, leaving Ryan standing facing a wooden barricade. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt a unique bond with his sister. They had never really spent any time together; he didn’t know much about her. But Ryan found they were always looking out for one another, and even though it had not been said, if he needed to talk to someone, he knew she would be there.
He turned from the door, trying to recall every detail about his affair on the stairs. Similar things had happened before in his life. Two years ago, at a school dance, the room had suddenly gone black, and even though Ryan had been very much awake, it was almost as if he had been transported. He had found himself in what seemed to be a forest. A thick, dense mist had covered the ground; hiding his feet form his eyes. Ryan had stayed in the same position, observing his surroundings. He remembered the bare, dark trees almost reaching out to him, and the dark green grass concealing mysterious creatures. Light dew had settled on his clothes, on his skin. Ryan remembered looking upwards, but a thick layer of darkness had shielded his sight. It had been deadly silent. But as soon as he had tried to take a step forward, he had been torn out of this quiet, eerie prison. He had been in the playground away form everyone else.
And now Ryan was older, the space between these happenings was diminishing fast. It had only been last month where Ryan had ended up running out of the supermarket, apparently screaming in agony. The ordeal had ended with the result of most people thinking he was mad. Ryan dared not tell anyone about his ‘visions’ as he supposed they were; he did not much fancy being sent off to a lab to have experiments done on him.
Ryan felt a sudden urge to paint. He so much wanted to feel the paintbrush spread out wide across the page, leaving a unique trail behind it. He wanted to tell the story of what had just happened. He wanted to put a passion into bringing colours together, and watching them react with each other. He wanted to bring out emotions, and he wanted to cry himself. But he also wanted to laugh. Ryan clenched his fists, warding off the threatening tears.
As his age grew, so too did the passion, anger and joy of his work. Some of the pieces Ryan had produced left people speechless, sometimes even himself. Very occasionally, Ryan would get so caught up in his work, he would often forget about the world around him. Only images of his emotions filled his head, causing him to react perhaps more strongly than he would have liked.
Ryan stepped towards his own room. His door was slightly ajar, leaving enough room to see his window. For some reason, he felt a cold band of sweat at the back of his neck. Ryan reached out, and pushed the door. The wooden door creaked on its old, rusty hinges. Ryan surveyed his room. He liked that it was his nature to be tidy. There was not an item on the floor which shouldn’t have been, his large double-glazed window was open a crack, forming a cool breeze around him as he stepped into his paradise room. This was where he would get inspiration for his work. He could stand above his desk, and look straight ahead out of the window. There, he would see objects that would help him to express an emotion. Like a mother bird feeding her starving little ones. Or a fox, skulking on the other side of the road scavenging for anything left to let it survive another grave winter. All these things would help Ryan clear his mind. But now, there was no need for inspiration, Ryan already had it inside himself.
Ryan’s mother was not conscious of Ryan’s talent. He wasn’t even sure if she really knew who she was. She had no idea that for the past nine years, he had hidden his art supplies away, under his bed, inside an old wooden box. To a stranger, distant from Ryan’s life, this box may seem to have just been a box. But to Ryan, it was much more. He was not sure why he treasured it so; perhaps it had something to do with the way in which he had found it. He had been walking, alone, along the small road at the back of his house. It was small; so small the name ‘road’ was an insult. It was more of a lane. Ryan had been observing the abandoned burrow of a rabbit, or so he thought. But the burrow was more of a hole. Very shallow; the back of it was easy to see. Ryan had seen the box lying there, empty, and had felt the need to pick it up and consider it his own. He doubted very much weather his mother even knew about the box, let alone where it was.
So this was where Ryan had kept all his equipment, although he wasn’t exactly sure why he wouldn’t let anyone else know about it. He imagined it was because he was so protective, not wanting anybody else to ‘steal’ his ideas.
He knelt down, and reached underneath his bed. He pulled out the little wooden frame; glad to see it was still there. Ryan studied the box. It was no bigger than a box of tissues. On the inside lid were patterns and pictures. They were of entangled plants and flowers, and now Ryan looked, he found this box was one solid piece of wood, not six pieces joined together. The only added bit was the lid with hinges. The lid was curved, meaning this box mimicked a small treasure chest. And to Ryan it was.
The telephone rang. Ryan sighed, and headed back towards the door, as he doubted his sister would hear it. Not feeling sociable, he let the answer phone take the call. He stood there, listening to the dull voice of his mother asking the stranger to leave a message. Ryan’s best friends voice filled the air.
“Hey Ryan, it’s Dan. Look, I’m.... I’m really sorry about before. I didn’t mean those things I said. Well, not really. I really do believe you. Call me back later. If you want to. I’m sorry.”
There was a ‘click’ indicating Dan had hung up.
Ryan sighed, remembering their previous conversation not more than a week ago. Ryan had trusted Daniel with his secret, and although Dan had kept it, he didn’t believe in the slightest. Ryan doubted if he even believed him now, but he knew how Dan was about arguments. Daniel was always the one to make the first move, even if he hadn’t done anything wrong. This was one of the qualities about Dan, which Ryan disliked. He felt there was no point in just caving in to someone else. If you had something to say, or a point to prove, you shouldn’t give up until your point has been made and the other person has accepted it. There was no point in getting into an argument, if it wasn’t a pointless one, if you were just going to give up at the end. To Ryan, doing that meant that you didn’t really believe in anything, and you would follow what the crowd was doing. That’s the sort of thing that made life not worth living for. Having no motive. Ryan hated that. He rarely hated anything, but the behaviour of mankind was one of them.
He smiled slightly, as two thoughts battled in his mind. The previous motive to paint had evaporated, leaving only an empty feeling. Ryan wanted so badly to just talk to someone who would listen to him, and yet not judge him. But he felt that that kind of person didn’t exist. Or if they did, he wouldn’t be finding them in a while.
But there was still the problem of Daniel. Ryan wanted Kevin to talk to him, but he somehow felt cut off from him. Ryan replayed the message. Then he pressed the little button marked ‘delete’. Ryan made a decision there, that it was best that Kevin was not allowed back into Ryan’s life; not any time soon anyway. On the other hand, it was good to finally have someone to talk to openly about it. Ryan turned away from the stairs and quickly, before he could change his mind, punched in Dan’s phone number.
The telephone rang on the other line. Ryan counted the rings; one...two...thr-
“Hello?” Daniel’s mum had answered the phone.
“Hi... is Dan there please?” Ryan found himself asking.
“Yes, I’ll just go and get him,” answered Mrs. Range. Ryan could hear her footsteps up their stairs, and a knock on Kevin's door with his mother’s voice saying, “Daniel, phone,” gently. Ryan was jealous that his wasn’t a cordless phone as well. Daniel’s annoyed voice answered a gruff, “Hello,”
“Hi Dan, it’s Ryan.”
“Oh...hi. Did you...err get my message?” Ryan could tell Dan felt uneasy. He usually knew whatever Dan was feeling.
“Yeah, I got it. It’s why I’m calling. You don’t have to believe me just for my friendship.” Ryan paused, and then added, laughing, “I’m deeper than that!”
“Oh, ok.” There was a pause. Although, to Ryan, not an uneasy one. “So, I’ll see you round then?”
“Yeah, ok.” Said Ryan, now smiling. Saying ‘see you round’ in their language meant ‘is all forgiven’ in basic terms.
Ryan said his goodbye and put down the handset. He walked into the kitchen, but once there, wasn’t quite sure why.
The gentle trickle of the water tap meandering down the side of the sink made Ryan thirsty. He took a glass form the cupboard, and turned the kitchen tap. Ryan wondered when his mother would be back from shopping. She shouldn’t be gone that long, it was just over the road; it was walking distance. But it wasn’t as if he really cared. Once she came home, she would sit on her own ‘drowning out her sorrows’, as she put it, listening to one of her old loves (music), and smoking a cigarette. That was basically what Ms. Miller’s life consisted of; love songs and fags. Ryan didn’t like at all that his mother was a smoker. She smoked around him, and this habit had caught on to his sister. He was surprised that he hadn’t started, even with his mother telling him what a nasty habit it was, and how she’d wished she hadn’t started. But it didn’t affect Ryan in any way. He knew his mother wouldn’t give up smoking if her life depended on it. Which in a way it did.
Ryan lost concentration on what he was doing, and spilt water over the floor. Swearing gently, he grabbed some kitchen towel off the rail and bent down to wipe up the water. He laughed to himself, saying out loud “No use crying over spilt milk.”
Ryan happened to glance up at the same moment it happened. He couldn’t be sure if what he saw was what he thought he’d seen. Ryan blinked, and knew he must just need sleep. But had there been a shadow passing along the wall under the table? He thought he’d better make sure.
“Sarah?” He called out loudly. No answer. But there was a crash from behind him. Like someone- or something had been startled by his sudden yell. Ryan stood up, and turned round, unaware of a pair of eyes watching him. He saw what had smashed, luckily an old mug that didn’t mean anything. He picked up the large chunks and threw them in the bin, knowing that he was the only one who would. He called out again. This time came a reply.
“Ryan?” It was a faint voice; one that sounded like it had not been used in centauries. Ryan’s face fell. He knew it couldn’t be his sister’s...it sounded too... too... strangled. His eyes shifted slowly to the floor beside him. He almost jumped back in shock. There, standing on the ground, no taller than the middle of his shin, was an imp. Or at least it looked like one. It had the same features, sneering mouth, scratchy hands. But its expression was not that of mischief. It looked scared. If Ryan had been able to speak, he would have said that what was standing in front of him was a mixture of imp, goblin and fairy.
Ryan was not sure how long he stood there, mouth opened and wide eyed, staring down at the...creature. It felt like hours. And the Imp stared right back at him, straight in the eye. Ryan finally took a deep breath, closed his eyes slowly, and returned to looking down at his feet, hoping that he was just imagining things. But it was still there. He spat out one word.
“W-what?” He asked feebly, and not too clearly.
“Ryan?” Repeated the Goblin, but this time not waiting for a reply. Its voice was almost that of a child’s, but there was something grave about it.
“Ryan Miller, I have come from Great Dimarchen. There is trouble brewing in our lands. You have to come with me...Now.”
* * * *
= Chapter two =
Ryan was speechless. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. He kept trying to say something, but every time his mouth moved, his voice box froze. He couldn’t even blink.
“I’ll let the news sink in,” said the thing.
“Um.” was all Ryan could manage to say. He turned from this creature, and took a large swig of water from his glass. Then he walked directly passed it, trying to push it out of the kitchen with his mind. But it moved as fast as light and was standing in front of him once again. Again, Ryan stopped and turned the other way.
“You can’t escape Ryan.” Said the Imp, in front of him again.
”Why not, you’re not real. You’re just my imagination.” Replied Ryan bitterly.
“Am I? Are you sure about that? Or are you just too phased by the shock of it that you don’t want to believe the possibility that I might actually be right?”
“Whatever, you...you...thing!” Said Ryan, getting exasperated.
“That’s not nice is it?” Ryan hated the way this thing was so calm. Maybe it was right. Perhaps it really was from a mystical world. He shook his head, to get the stupid idea out of his mind. The goblin carried on.
“Perhaps I should explain before I take you there. My name is Fargen. I am a Kimjy, from Dimarchen. This probably isn’t making much sense to you.” Ryan shook his head, the ability to speak absent again.
“For centuries, we have been living peacefully in our world. A world that was created for us thousands of years ago. When it was first created, a Great Evil was born with it. Though not strong, it had the power to control minds until the mind was no longer there to control. Like bodies without a soul. The Great Evil goes by the name Tredhan. He lived on the souls of other dead creatures that he killed. A horrible creature he was. He worked for decades, working up an army. He was power-hungry and wanted to control the lands of Dimarchen himself. He wanted to be lord; wanted to show all the people who had laughed at him years before that he was not a reject. He wanted to be accepted.
‘You see, Tredhan had not always been on the dark side. He was once one of us. A quiet soul. He always used to play quietly on his own; he was never surrounded by folk who cared for him. So the power of the darkness and loneliness took his mind, and he believed that war was the answer. He believed he was right, and he believed he was the chosen one, sent out to make folk be slaves to a world they wished they weren’t even a part of. So after gathering an army of many Greethes, he attacked different families one by one, wearing down their boundaries. It was terrible, for the Greethes are not like any other creature. They live purely on the terrible feelings of others. They would pick out you worst emotion, like anger, and make you act upon it. This is what turned our folk into Greethes themselves, by giving into those feelings. Before Tredhan, the Greethes didn’t even exist. We thought all was lost. It nearly was. My own ancestors fought in that war, the Great War.
‘By submitting to the darkness, fairies, goblins, elves and even kimjies became Greethes. There was no peace in the land of Demarchen, and for three years it went on. Battles filled every sunset, and by sunrise the next morning bloodshed would lie on our peaceful fields.
‘But there were some who did not succumb to the Greethes. They kept their minds, and their souls. They all fled to a land where none of our kind had been before, as the folk who dwelled there were nothing to do with us. This place was Incarnthia. Here, they slowly turned people to their own side. Witches joined them also. These weren’t normal witches, they looked like you humans; but they harboured magical powers. There wasn’t any comical tall black hats or long spotty noses; they were sacred and very very powerful. Had Tredhan and his Greethes reached them first, I doubt I would even be here talking with you.
‘Our power increased, and soon we had an army almost as large as Tradhan’s. Imagine it, two lots of armies, both thousands of kimjies long. Marching solemnly towards each other. The two sides met in the valley of Garthen. There they battled for three days, without stop. Most of the Greethes, not used to long battles, turned to dust within the first day. But their souls still attacked those of the good. Some witches succumbed to their power, but luckily they were the weaker ones. On the sunrise of the fourth day, all battles had been fought, all blood had been shed, and the war between Good and Evil was over. We had won.”
Fargen finished is story with sorrow in his eyes. Ryan found himself sitting on the floor, next to the Kimjy. A mass of questions filled his head. To put them out of his mind, he surveyed the little dwarf-like thing standing opposite him. It reminded him of a vole, with it’s long features.
“What happened, and... what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, everything will become clear. We have a prophecy, of a chosen one coming to save us from the Great Evil-”
“And let me guess, I’m the Chosen One!” Said Ryan sarcastically.
“And I have to come back to your world, Dimagthing or whatever it’s called and protect you from an evil which doesn’t even exist!” Ryan was on his feet again now, angry at how fairy-tale like this all was.
“Did I say that?” replied Fargen calmly. He could tell that Ryan would take some getting used to. Still, if he was to be his Guarder, he had to get used to his temper. “I said there was a chosen one,” He continued, “And whatever you may think, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not it.”
“Then why are you here?” replied Ryan, sounding out every letter.
“If you’ll let me explain. Right, in answer to you first question; After the Great Battle, Life slowly returned to the norm. We returned to our farming, and our playing and learning. And so it went on for many more centauries. But there is a rumour brewing in Garthen Valley. A rumour that frightened the residence so much, that they fled from it. The souls of the Greethes lost many years ago are returning, and are inflicting the same damage on our people as they did long ago. But it is only a rumour, and we don’t know if it is true. But if it is, we are all in grave danger. Our forces are not as strong as they used to be, and we have grown distant with the witches. I doubt that they will help us for a second time, they lost enough of their own kind in the last war.”
“So... why come to me?” asked Ryan, the anger gone form his voice.
“I was just getting to that. You see, in this prophecy, as well as of a chosen one, it also talks about the power of man. Now, if I can remember correctly, perhaps you will see what I mean.
The battle of the Northern West,
Brought fear, and hate and death,
But soon again the Dark will wake,
To breathe the final breath.
The Greethes will then retake their form,
And claim their lands again,
And Tredhan with his armies great,
Shall reconstruct the pain.
With every soul that joins his force,
And helps his side expand,
The fate of Great Dimarchen,
Will fall into his hands.
But through the mist of shattered dreams,
Shall march a Great Unknown,
And with no weapon known to folk,
Shall kill Great Evil’s soul.
Great Unknown is not so strong,
He needs the help of Man,
For knowledge deep and fearless hearts,
Shall help finish the plan.
The win shall only come to pass,
If Man is brought to Garthen,
For if Great Evil wins the war,
The lives of all shall darken.”
Ryan ran this prophecy round and round in his mind. But he still didn’t know why it was him who had to be there. Why should he have to face a ‘Great Evil’, he was nothing special. Why couldn’t they have picked someone else?
“I see that, but...why me?” asked Ryan again.
“Well, I had orders from the Ordercourt to bring you, so I don’t why it has to be you. But I can promise you that it wasn’t randomly chosen.”
Ryan stared down at Fargen. What was he to believe? He still wasn’t sure to trust this kimjy, if that’s what it was. But even though this was completely out-of-the-ordinary, Ryan felt a strange pang of familiarity. This felt like it happened every day, and that it was perfectly normal to have a Kimjy in your kitchen.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” asked Ryan, defeated by his own thoughts.
“Come with me. But, I can’t force you.” Replied Fargen, shrugging “It’s a choice you have to make. I’ve told you all I can, and now I must go, with you or not. The choice is yours.” Ryan counted his options. He could stay at home, and act like nothing had happened. But then, wouldn’t he feel guilty, or curious? Or, he could go with Fargen, and leave this life behind.
“Would anyone notice I was gone?” He asked, casually.
“No, the time difference is so great, it would be like there was a clone here being you.”
“Then why can’t the clone go to Dimarchen?” replied Ryan, sulkily.
“It’s hard to explain. The ‘clone’ would be enchanted to work only in this world. In our world, its power would be useless. Under eyes that see and use enchantments every day, it would be no more than a wisp of smoke.”
Ryan clenched his fists. He had made his decision.
“Anything must be better than staying here. I’m coming with you.” He said firmly, and Fargen noticed a gleam in his eyes.
“Excellent!” replied Fargen with excitement.
“But...how do I know if I can trust you?” Asked Ryan slowly.
“My dear boy,” said Fargen looking upwards at him, “You don’t.”
Fargen pulled a small box out of his pocket. Ryan recognised it at once.
“Hey, that’s just like a box I have!” he cried.
“Yes, and it’s not coincidence, I can tell you that.” Replied Fargen, winking. He lifted the lid, but unlike Ryan’s Box, there was a round penny. Or what looked like a penny. Fargen handed one of these to Ryan.
“Put it in your mouth.” He ordered.
“What?” said Ryan, bemused.
“Just do it.” Said Fargen, fed up of being in this world. He hadn’t expected to be this long in the Other World. Ryan placed the smooth coin on his tongue. His surrounding began to change. The kitchen merged into darkness, and the darkness itself turned into a new surrounding.
Ryan looked around himself. He was standing in what looked like a gladiator’s gauntlet, except it was smaller, and more peaceful. In front of him and Fargen, sat what looked like a row of judges.
“Ah, Fargen. We were wondering when you would be joining us.” Said one of the panel.
“Sorry I’m so late. This one took some convincing.”
“I can see.” Ryan felt confused. This was not what he was expecting.
“Well, at least you got him here.” Said another of the panel, sighing. He had a sneer like voice. Ryan noticed that there were many strange creatures sitting at the table.
“You may leave now.” Said another, writing on a pad. Fargen didn’t move. The creature writing looked up.
“Yes?” He said, gruffly.
“Shouldn’t we explain to him what’s going on? I had not enough time to tell him everything. He wants to know why he is here.”
“Oh alright then. Marium, it’s your call.” A Female fairy at the other end of the bench stood up. She had a kindly face, and young like a child’s. But the wings on her book looked old with age, and she moved in a graceful fashion. Ryan was glad to see someone his own height. She smiled at him, as she walked over. Then she bent down and addressed Fargen.
“He’ll be alright with me Fargen, you may go. And don’t worry; I’ll bring him to you when the sun’s shadow reaches Mount Dherr. Fargen nodded in acceptance, and started away from the arena.
“Now Ryan,” Began the fairy, “Lets go for a walk, shall we?” Ryan reluctantly agreed; the one thing, which he had understood, had disappeared, leaving him with a whole new array of questions.
“Ryan, what would you say I am?” asked the fairy. Ryan was surprised at the bluntness of the question. His need to say ‘fairy’ however, evaporated. A new word entered his mind.
“A Yumung.” He replied, thinking he was making a fool out of himself.
“Mmhm,” said the fairy, “And how old would you say I was?”
“I don’t know. About one-hundred-and-twenty-three.” Said Ryan, thinking he sounded rude.
“Well Ryan, you are correct on both questions.” Replied the Yumung, smiling. Ryan’s eyes widened.
“So Ryan,” Marium began, “Fargen has told you all you need to know,” She stopped again, and her eyes turned hard as she looked at Ryan. “Presumably” Marium Finished.
“Yes, he has.”
“And yet you’re still confused about why you’re here. Interesting.” Ryan wasn’t sure if Marium was talking to herself, for she seemed to be. “Surely the reason would be obvious? All we’re saying is we need your help. And we hope you’re going to help us.” There was silence, as Ryan began to think. What was Marium talking about, help with what? Fargen had already told him that he wasn’t the chosen one; so couldn’t he go back? Why should he be the one to help all these...creatures. For all he knew, Ryan could be in a dream.
“I’ve been told that I’m not the ‘chosen one’,” Ryan looked up, hoping for Marium to finish his sentence. But she didn’t. “So, couldn’t I go back? Couldn’t I just forget all of this ever happened and go back to the way I was living? I’m not sure I’m up to all this. I’m not even sure what you want me to do.”
“No one is Ryan, so I can’t help you there. It’s beyond the Order court’s power to tell the future. Only witches have the power of that. But yes, you could go back, if you really wanted to. You could forget all about us, and let us fight our own war. But, it would surely lead to destruction.”
“You could get someone else...” Ryan muttered. He suddenly noticed that Marium’s voice had gone hard. She seemed to not even care any more.
“Don’t you understand Ryan?” She replied, trying to calm herself down. “Don’t you see that you’re the only one who can help us? Because if you can’t, then I don’t see how you can help us anyway. If after all you’ve been told, you still ignore it, perhaps you are better off going home.” Marium was still now, and so was Ryan. To an onlooker, they would have seen a fairy and a human both, for once, looking at each other and deciding what should be done.
“Well,” Marium said again, this time calmer, “We seem to have come across a problem. I’m sure the Order Court will be very interested to hear what you have to say. But let us not ponder so seriously! You have been asked to come to a place where you have never really been before, so you know no customs. Would you like me to show you the mountain Dherr?” Marium smiled at Ryan.
“Yes, that would be nice. I’d like to see as much as possible. I don’t want to be confused any more.” Ryan and Marium started walking along the cool grass again. Ryan noticed that Marium wasn’t wearing any shoes, but before he could ask why Marium said, “It is believed that if we can feel where we’re walking, we have more appreciation for its presence.” This made sense to Ryan, and he guessed that Marium didn’t really want to talk any more. But then she apologised for being so rude, and asked Ryan if there was anything on his mind. As Ryan couldn’t think of anything, he only said that he would like to be shown the mountain. As they walked, Ryan had enough time to take in his surroundings. They seemed to be walking along a grass path, and yet it looked randomly placed out. There were large-trunked trees either side. The trunks twisted around other trunks of trees, and he didn’t know how, but Ryan felt that their roots stretched deep into the bowls of the earth. The path didn’t go on forever, it soon opened out and Ryan found himself on a wide landscape of hills and fields. Afew hundred metres ahead of them was, as Ryan took it, the mountain.
They had only walked a few yards, when Ryan heard a noise by his foot. He glanced down and saw a furry little creature. It was no bigger than a tennis ball, and it was round too. Ryan bent down to get a closer look.
“That’s a Ferrtook.” Marium said, smiling at the sweet little thing. The noise it was making was like a newly born baby, little squeaks.
“Most elves have one. They’re like a pet. They’re very friendly, very loyal, and they don’t need to be fed.”
“They’re sweet.” Ryan said, now stroking the Ferrtook on his belly.
“You could probably have him, if you wanted.”
“What if he belonged to some else?” Ryan asked, rubbing his hands of all the fur form the Ferrtook.
“Dear Ryan,” Marium said laughing, “That would not matter! They are plenty common enough. Would you like him?”
“So, I can just.... take him?”
“Yes, he seems to like you a lot. I can tell he’s not going to let you down.” Ryan picked up the little Ferrtook.
“I’ll call you Rook.” He whispered to the Ferrtook. It seemed to like it, for it squiggled out of Ryan’s hands and came to a rest on his shoulder. Now that Ryan looked it at him, Rook seemed like a cross between a black tennis ball and a bird. Rook had little wings that Ryan hadn’t noticed before.
“Come Ryan, we must get to the mountain before sun set.” Said Marium softly. While thinking of something else, time seemed to pass much quicker for Ryan. They were at the base of the mountain in what felt like a few minutes.
Ryan stopped paying attention to Rook and looked upwards.
“Wow...” he murmured. Then he turned to Marium. “How are we supposed to get up there?”
“Easy.” Replied Marium, and she clicked her fingers. Instantly, their surroundings changed and Ryan found himself at the top of the mountain. Words failed him, as he turned round, gazing at the miles and miles of land that stretched before him. There were fields that stretched almost as far as the eye could see, there were hills also, surrounding everything. There was a huge lake, with what looked like ice on the top of it, and there were large huts spread a metre or so apart from each other. Smoke was rising through what looked like a chimney, and with the setting sun, the landscape shimmered in the evening light.
“It’s beautiful.” Ryan whispered.
“I know. I often come up here just to be alone or think. It’s lovely, just being up here all on your own. Especially when there’s a wind. The wind can tell you a lot. You just have to use your senses. Try it.” There wasn’t a wind about, but Ryan had an odd sensation. He closed his eyes. Everything went dark. He could feel a breeze stir up around him. Nothing mattered any more. It was just him, alone, on the top of a mountain in the wind. He took a deep breath in as he tasted the air. It was tangy, like the first bite of food you ever had. Ryan was floating over a thousand trees and he swimming amongst a thousand fish.
The call of what sounded like an eagle made Ryan open his eyes. He was back on the mountain, the air was calm, and the sun was almost set. He turned to face Marium.
“See what I mean?” She asked, knowing what Ryan had felt. She wasn’t surprised at his skill; it was to be expected. Marium looked around, then said, “We should probably be heading back. The suns shadow has almost reached the mountain.” She clicked her fingers, and once again they were at the base of the mountain. There was a patter of footsteps behind them. Ryan turned, enough to see Fargen bent double.
“What is wrong dear Fargen?” asked Marium, though no sorrow showed in her eyes to see the kimjy in pain.
“Masters request for young Ryan to return.” He panted.
“Very well, we are finished here anyway.” She turned back to Ryan.
“I hope our conversation has lifted the cover from your eyes, if only slightly. Remember, if you need to contact me again, let yourself glide upon the wind.” She smiled at him gently as their eyes met; then Ryan stood, watching as her body melted into the trees behind them, until he could watch her no more. Ryan smiled to himself, understanding that this was the way in which Yumungs travelled. By fading into their surroundings, Yumungs could travel through air, water or earth, like an electric current does through wire.
“Come Ryan, we had best be getting back. The sun has almost reached its peer point.”
Ryan walked along side Fargen. He found himself thinking; about how normal this seemed, about how far away his previous life was. And he also thought about the future. What was in store for Ryan here? He seemed to be well known, and that comforted him. But millions more questions still filled his head, and he doubted weather they could be answered. Still, Ryan thought as they began to make their way back to the gauntlet, any questions which still hung in the air would, he would no doubt find the answers out tonight.
* * * *
= Chapter three =
The two creatures walked along side by side, each thinking their own thoughts. There was a question on Ryan’s mind that he had been thinking for a while.
“Why?” He whispered quietly.
“Because. Things are the way they are Ryan, and there’s no way even we can change that.” The sun had already set by now, as was custom for it set quickly in Dimarchen. As the softening darkness grew, Ryan noticed little lights appearing in trunks of old oak trees. At least, he assumed they were oak. But he didn’t know what to expect anymore. Anything could have a different name. Yet the difference seemed to lie back on earth. He felt at home here. But then again, he would. Hadn’t he created this world? Perhaps not the creatures, but the land and the sea? The setting and rising of the sun, every star that glowed at night, the blood red moon; had he not designed all these and brought them to life? Was it not his hand that had carved the markings of the trees, or given the streams it song? Or was it all just a lie. Was it a clever trick of the mind? Whatever he thought now, Ryan would surely find out all the reasons in time. But time could take forever. Time was forever. So thinking that didn’t console him.
Fargen had noticed Ryan’s silence.
“Ryan?” He said softly, hoping to break the trance Ryan was in. Trances were dangerous here. In that two or three minutes when you’re somewhere else, anything happen. And Fargen had seen it happen before. Luckily Ryan seemed to shake his head, and turned to Fargen with a soft smile on his face.
“What is it Fargen?”
“It just it’s dangerous to be in a trance sir. Things can... happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain...” Fargen began. He didn’t want to let Ryan know too much. It could be dangerous. He glanced up and noticed Ryan had stopped. He was crouching down, spreading his hand through the grass. With the darkness, Fargen couldn’t make out what he was doing.
“What are you-” He began, but Ryan interrupted him.
“Shhhh,” Ryan whispered. Fargen hobbled over to where Ryan was crouched. Ryan looked up, and met Fargen’s eyes.
“Listen.” There was silence between the two, as they both listened. Fargen couldn’t tell what he was listening for. It was probably just another question Ryan wanted answered. But then he heard it. A low humming. It seemed to be coming from the depths of the woods. Fargen, of course, had never heard it before. Ryan had. It was the noise he always used to hear at home. He had taken to be the boiler, or something similar. But hearing it here made Ryan realise it was more than that. It was a warning. A warning of a dark secret that hid behind every bush, every tree and every creature that moved in every universe. But now the hum was fading, and Ryan wanted to follow it. But he felt Fargen grab his arm, saw the look in his eye, and knew they must be getting back.
“Ok.” He said softly.
“I don’t mean to rush you sir, take all the time you want. We are quite safe out here.” Ryan smiled at Fargen trying to hurry him along, but also try and let him take as long as he wished.
“It’s ok. I was finished anyway.”
The walk back seemed a much shorter way than the walk there. Ryan must have been thinking deeply, because the next thing he knew, him and Fargen were walking through the doors of the arena. The long row of desks was empty now, and Ryan wondered where they would go next, as there was no obvious exit. Fargen could read the question on Ryan’s mind.
“Follow me,” he said, “It’s just through here.” Now that Ryan had more time to look, he could see that there was a large pair of marble doors. They looked far to heavy to move by hand; but then again, Ryan didn’t know what to expect any more. And sure enough, as they drew closer to the doors, Fargen muttered something and the doors opened.
“What was that you said?” asked Ryan as they walked through the opening.
“I was speaking in my own language.” Replied Fargen. He looked up to see Ryan’s puzzled face. Fargen laughed as he replied, “You don’t think that we spoke English of our own accord? We learnt it so we could talk to you!”
“Oh,” muttered Ryan, wondering why anyone would make such an effort just to talk to him. He suddenly remembered Rook. Ryan looked around, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
“Great,” He muttered sarcastically.
“What is it Ryan?”
“I’ve just lost something. That’s all.” Fargen’s voice grew worried.
“What have you lost Ryan? I need to know, it’s important.” Ryan was shocked. Why was it so important?
“It’s just a Ferrtook I found. It’s sort of... disappeared.” Fargen sighed in relief. “Why were you so worried?” Ryan inquired.
“Well, if you lose anything else, who knows what could happen. Marium told you what you needed to hear, did she?”
“Yes,” said Ryan slowly “Yet I’m still none-the-wiser.”
“It will come in time, Ryan. And if you want your ferrtook back, just whistle.”
“What?”
“Whistle. Everything has it’s own unique whistle; it’s like a fingerprint. Trust me.”
“OK...” said Ryan. He puckered up his mouth and blew. Out of nowhere, a zooming black ball came hurtling towards them, and bumped gently into Ryan’s leg. Ryan smiled as he bent down to pick Rook up.
”He still needs abit of training.” Fargen observed. Then he added, “But that shouldn’t be too difficult. Now, we must get on sir.” Ryan placed Rook on his shoulder, and they began walking again. They appeared to be in a large court; there were pillars around, yet they were holding nothing up. If you looked upwards, you could see the masses of stars, and the moon that shone down its eerie red light. The cobbled path reminded Ryan of home, though he couldn’t think where.
It wasn’t long before they came to another large set of doors where, again, Fargen muttered something under his breath. This time, however, the large doors sunk into the earth and shook the whole ground. As they began to pass through to entrance, Fargen suddenly stopped.
“What is it?” whispered Ryan, sensing that the need for quiet was essential. But for once, Fargen didn’t reply.
“Fargen?” whispered Ryan a little louder. He looked down at the kimjy. Or where he used to be. There was no sign of Fargen anywhere, and Ryan realised how lonely and dark this place was. He was still standing in a courtroom, but a larger one this time; with a ceiling. Ryan was thinking a dozen things at once. Where was Fargen? What should he do? Who should he call? Should he call? There were too many things to think about now. Ryan could see that ahead was either blocked, or there were another set of doors. He turned back; only to find those doors had closed.
“Great.” Ryan muttered. “Great, great, GREAT!!” It was the first time he had ever let his feelings out since he had come to this place. But now, he just couldn’t stop. He kept yelling, screaming at the walls, screaming at the ceiling. Rook had jumped off his shoulder and was desperately trying to find a way out.
After a few minutes of screaming, Ryan managed to calm himself down. He then went about trying to find a way out of this... prison. But all the walls appeared to be identical, and it wasn’t long before Ryan couldn’t even remember which direction they had come in. It was hopeless. Every wall was a dead end, and how was he to know what to say to get through? And where was Fargen? Then Ryan remembered something. He remembered what Marium had told him. ‘Let yourself glide upon the wind’. But then again, how on earth was wind supposed to get in here? Perhaps the same thing would happen as did on the mountain. Ryan closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply, and let his mind carry him to places he’d never been before. In his mind, he saw the path where him and Marium had been walking before. It seemed like a dream, and yet he felt very much awake. In no time at all, he was gliding over the top of Mount Dherr. Then, he was down in the valley, beside all the huts. Ryan felt himself turning around, and he was gliding back towards the mountain. He had to find Marium. He returned through the path and found himself just before the Order Court’s Chamber. He placed his feet on the ground; then he opened his eyes.
After opening his eyes, Ryan felt extremely foolish. He had expected to be outside the Chamber, expected himself to be able to transport. But he was still standing right where he had been, in the marble enclosure. He was glad, for once, that no one was around to see him make this mistake.
“We’ll have to work on that,” said an amused voice form behind him. Ryan turned to see Marium standing by the walls. A river of feelings flowed into Ryan’s mind, all mixed; embarrassment, shock and relief being just a few.
“I’m a little confused...” he began, but stopped as he could think of nothing else to add.
“I’d think it odd if you weren’t.” Marium smiled, “But to explain further, we shall have to get out of here.” She clicked her fingers, and they were outside the chamber. Ryan leant on the marble wall.
“However, I am not the person to explain to you. All I can say is, that this was a test, to see your resistance.” A brief smile flickered across Marium’s face.
“Resistance?”
“Hindrance, impending or stopping effect-”
“Yes, yes, yes I know what it means.” Replied Ryan, becoming impatient. Fed up. That’s what he was. Fed up. Nobody was being sincere with him. He may as well go home. He could run. He could just turn around, and run the opposite direction form everything. So why didn’t he? Because, somehow, Ryan felt he owed this place something. Sighing, he asked again, “How were you testing my resistance?”
“There is a power in that chamber, and when all the doors are closed, it works itself into the hearts and souls of anyone in there. You, however, weren’t affected. On the contrary, I doubt if you even knew if it was there. It twists your thoughts, and brings to the surface your worst imaginations.”
Ryan’s anger began to boil. It burned through his blood like a thousands knives penetrating a castle’s last boundaries. Wasn’t that dangerous? It was invasion of privacy, and if Marium was speaking the truth, then Ryan could have been killed.
“That’s dangerous. It could have disastrous effects Marium. You could have killed me.” He bent down and pulled a blade of grass from the moist ground, which he then proceeded to twist around his fingers until it snapped. Ryan raised his head. Their eyes met.
“I know,” Marium said softly. But there was nothing else she could say. Nothing would help. She couldn’t tell him what was really going on. It wasn’t fair on him. Of course, she knew the dangers of her actions, and she knew the effects of what would happen if Ryan left them. She had to calm him down. However, she happened to glimpse his eyes. His deep, melancholy eyes. They were to tell a tale sorrow and greatness. They would save them all. Marium could see, at last, that Ryan would not desert them. He knew too much, and he cared. He knew the pain of being deserted. And Marium could see that he was not about to throw it all away.
“You know? YOU KNOW? What do you know exactly? Do you know how this is for me?” The energy in his voice and in his words brought new light to Marium’s idea.
“No.”
“Well...” Ryan was faltering. He could already feel his anger ebbing away. He was, after all, only looking for a reason to get angry. Marium hadn’t done anything. “There you go then.” He finished. Ryan’s breathing was loud and long. He stepped away from the wall, and continued walking outside the large stone building. Marium opened her mouth.
“I’m not going far,” he replied, before she could ask. “I just...I just have to be alone.” His slow turn to face her turned Marium’s doubt to pity. Poor boy. That was all she could think about. Nothing else mattered. She, as with everyone else, had got so caught up in her own life that she had rejected the one true thing that had brought her there in the first place.
“Take as long as you need Ryan. No one’s counting on you.” She stopped Ryan a second time as he prepared to leave. “You can leave, you know. If you want to. No one’s keeping you here.”
A laugh from Ryan told Marium he knew that. She listened as he explained that people were keeping him here. It was himself. His own emotions, his regrets, his tears. They were blocking him from the exit. And they always would be. With a gradual step and a blink of a tear, Ryan was gone.
“He’ll come back.” Fargen was at Marium’s feet.
“You can’t be sure Fargen. Even a guarder can’t predict their keepers actions” She smiled at the small kimjy. They stood in silence, gazing at the mischievous creatures roaming the land.
Unexpectedly, Marium jumped.
“I have to go.” She said urgently. Not even waiting for an answer from Fargen, she melted into the air. Only she would ever hear what she heard. Only she would know what she knew. Only she could save Ryan now. She’d seen them; she’d seen them all. She knew that their only weapon had been found out.
* * * *