* * * *

 

Jennifer Fallon, is the international bestselling author of the Hythrun Chronicles, the Second Sons trilogy and the Tide Lords quartet. She has also co-authored books and short stories for the Stargate TV series. Her short stories have been published in magazines and a number of anthologies, including More Tales of Zorro, Baggage, and Chicks in Capes. She shares her house with a very large Mastiff who is afraid of, well, everything, a little old Maltese afraid of nothing, three psychotic cats who are undoubtedly plotting the takeover of Planet Earth and a collection of pewter and crystal dragons from all over the world, who seem content to do nothing more than collect dust.

 

* * * *

 

The Magic Word

 

Jennifer Fallon

 

 

Chapter I

 

Every morning the High Princess of Hythria sprinkled crumbs on the sill outside the living-room window of her borrowed apartment in the Medalonian capital, the Citadel, for the small brown bird that flew down to greet her.

 

Every morning the little bird would land on the very edge of the stonework, tentatively approach the crumbs, tweeting softly, as if debating aloud the wisdom of accepting this unexpected bounty ... and then he would snatch up the fattest crumb and fly away, disappearing amidst the shining white spires of the city with his prize.

 

Every morning. The same bird, the same time, and, Adrina was starting to suspect, the same damn crumb.

 

‘Didn’t we do this yesterday?’ she said, climbing awkwardly to her feet as her winged visitor dived and swooped away toward his nest somewhere high in the white towers of the city.

 

Damin glanced up from the scroll he was reading by the fire. He always got up before she did. And she always found him by the fire, which was odd, because, as a rule, Damin wasn’t the sitting-by-the-fire type.

 

‘Did we?’

 

He sounded distracted. No, worse than that. Utterly disinterested.

 

‘I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever.’

 

‘Tell me about it.’

 

Adrina glared at her husband — sitting there sipping mulled wine as if he didn’t have a care in the world. ‘So says Damin Wolfblade, the wastrel who spends his days swanning around the Citadel with the Lord Defender, pretending he’s important.’

 

He grinned. ‘I’m the High Prince of Hythria, Adrina. I am important.’

 

‘And my job is to do nothing more than sit here incubating your precious Hythrun heir?’

 

Damin put down his wine and turned to study her. ‘I rather thought you liked the idea of being here in Medalon. You kicked up a big enough fuss about coming along.’

 

‘I know ...’ She sighed and stretched her aching back. ‘But don’t you ever feel as if we’ve been here in the Citadel forever?’

 

Damin’s face creased with a thoughtful frown. ‘I never really thought about it.’

 

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’

 

‘All right,’ he said, smart enough to know when he was approaching the edge of a precipice. ‘Now that you mention it, it does seem like we’ve been here a long time, but I was under the impression we’re still here because we’re waiting for you to deliver my precious Hythrun heir before we can travel again. If you’re sick of being in Medalon ... well, any time you’re ready, sweetheart.’

 

The nearest thing to hand was Adrina’s empty wine goblet. She hurled it across the room, scoring a hit squarely over Damin’s left ear. The empty clay goblet fell to the ground, shattering as it landed.

 

‘Ow!’ Damin exclaimed, jumping to his feet as he rubbed his wounded head. ‘What was that for?’

 

‘For blaming me. It’s not my fault we’re stuck here.’

 

He glared at her, still rubbing the lump on his head. But if he had a glib answer, he wisely kept it to himself. Assuming a much more sombre expression, he asked, ‘Do you seriously think it’s something magical keeping us here? Something to do with the Harshini, maybe?’

 

‘I don’t know. Perhaps we should ask Shananara. I can’t really explain it, though, so I’m not sure what we’d ask. I just have a feeling, that’s all, and it’s not indigestion brought on by pregnancy that’s causing it. Gods, I even feel like we have this conversation every morning.’

 

‘I’ll speak to Tarja.’

 

‘Which is your answer to everything, lately,’ she complained. ‘Can we go riding today?’

 

‘Won’t that be bad for the baby?’

 

‘Maybe it’ll bring the wretched creature on.’

 

Nodding, Damin walked toward her. ‘Let’s ride then, and see if we can’t hurry this mighty prince’s entrance into the world.’

 

Adrina glared at him, annoyed at the assumption she was having a son. Before she could say so, however, there was a knock at the door to their apartment — a suite once the luxurious quarters of a senior Sister of the Blade. Adrina didn’t know which sister had lived here and didn’t care to know. They all made her uneasy, so it hardly mattered anyway.

 

‘That’ll be Tarja,’ she muttered as Damin crossed the sitting room to open the door.

 

He opened it and stepped back to allow their visitor into the room. Adrina sighed. Sure enough — as she had known it would be — it was Tarja Tenragan.

 

The tall, dark-haired Lord Defender bowed politely to both of them. ‘Good morning, Damin. Your highness.’

 

‘Good morning, Tarja,’ Adrina said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Tarja ... she was just sick of seeing him. She was sick of everyone here. She really did feel as if she’d been trapped here in Medalon for years, not just the month or so it should have been. ‘Did you want something, Tarja? Damin and I were just about to go riding.’

 

‘Of course,’ The Lord Defender said with a smile. ‘I’ll order your horses saddled ...’

 

* * * *

 

The small brown bird flew down to eat the crumbs Adrina sprinkled on the sill outside the living-room window of her apartment. He landed on the very edge of the stonework, tentatively approach the crumbs, tweeting softly, as if debating aloud the wisdom of accepting this unexpected bounty ... and then snatched up the fattest crumb and flew away, disappearing amidst the shining white spires of the city with his prize.

 

The same bird, the same time, and, Adrina was becoming convinced, it was the same damn crumb.

 

‘Didn’t we do this yesterday?’ she said, climbing awkwardly to her feet as the sparrow dived and swooped away, as he always did, toward his nest somewhere high in the city.

 

Damin glanced up from the scroll he was reading by the fire. As usual, he was up before she was, by the fire reading. As usual, Adrina thought it odd, because Damin wasn’t the sitting-by-the-fire type.

 

‘Did we?’

 

He sounded as distracted as Adrina remembered. No, worse than that. Utterly disinterested.

 

‘I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

 

‘Tell me about it.’

 

Adrina glared at her husband — sitting there sipping mulled wine as if he didn’t have a care in the world, wondering why it felt like they’d had this argument so many times before. ‘It’s all right for you, Damin Wolfblade. You’re the wastrel who spends his days swanning around the Citadel with Tarja, pretending you’re important.’

 

He grinned at her. Even before he opened his mouth, she knew he was going to say, ‘I’m the High Prince of Hythria, Adrina. I am important.’

 

‘And what?’ she couldn’t help responding. ‘My job is to do nothing more than sit here incubating your precious Hythrun heir?’

 

He put down his wine and turned to study her. ‘I rather thought you liked the idea of being here in Medalon. You kicked up a big enough fuss about coming along.’

 

‘I know.’ She sighed wearily and stretched her aching back. ‘But don’t you ever feel as if we’ve been here in the Citadel forever?’

 

Damin’s face creased with a thoughtful frown. ‘I never really thought about it.’

 

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’

 

‘All right,’ he said. Now that you mention it, it does seem like we’ve been here a long time, but I was under the impression that’s because we’re waiting for you to deliver my precious Hythrun heir before we can travel again. If you’re sick of being in Medalon ... well, any time you’re ready, sweetheart.’

 

Adrina picked up the nearest thing to hand — her empty wine goblet — and hurled it across the room, scoring a hit squarely over Damin’s left ear with the unerring skill of a well practised throw. The empty clay goblet fell to the ground, shattering as it landed.

 

‘Ow!’ Damin exclaimed, jumping to his feet as he rubbed his wounded head. ‘What was that for?’ ‘

 

‘For blaming me. It’s not my fault we’re stuck here. You’re the one who put me in this condition.’

 

He glared at her, rubbing the lump on his head. But if he had a glib answer, he kept it to himself. Assuming a much more sombre expression, he asked, ‘Do you seriously think it’s something magical keeping us here? Something to do with the Harshini, perhaps?’

 

‘I don’t know. Maybe we should ask Shananara,’ she said, deciding that today she would insist they speak to the Queen of the Harshini, and not just suggest the idea. ‘Although I can’t really explain it, so I’m not sure what we’d ask her. I just have a feeling, that’s all, and it’s not indigestion bought on by pregnancy that’s causing it. Gods, I even think we have this conversation every morning.’

 

‘I’ll speak to Tarja.’

 

‘Which is your answer to everything, isn’t it?’ she complained. ‘Can we go riding today?’

 

‘Won’t that be bad for the baby?’

 

‘Maybe it’ll bring the wretched creature on.’

 

Nodding, Damin walked toward her. ‘Let’s ride then, and see if we can’t hurry this mighty prince’s entrance into the world.’

 

Adrina glared at him, annoyed at his insistence she was having a son. Before she could say so, however, there was a knock at the door to their apartment.

 

‘That’ll be Tarja,’ she muttered as Damin crossed the sitting room to open the door.

 

He opened it and stepped back to allow their visitor into the room. Adrina sighed. Sure enough, it was Tarja.

 

The tall, dark-haired Lord Defender bowed politely to both of them. ‘Good morning Damin. Your highness.’

 

‘Good morning, Tarja,’ Adrina said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Tarja ... she was just sick of seeing him. She was sick of everyone here. Adrina was becoming obsessed by the idea she was trapped here in Medalon for years not just the month or so it should have been. ‘Did you want something, Tarja? Damin and I were just about to go riding.’

 

‘Ah ...’ Tarja said, glancing at Damin. ‘I was hoping to borrow Damin for a while, your highness. I have a bit of a problem and I thought he might be able to help.’

 

Adrina stared at Tarja in shock.

 

‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘I have a bit of a problem and I thought Damin might be able to help,’ he repeated, looking at her oddly.

 

This was different. Adrina couldn’t say why, but it felt very different. ‘What sort of problem?’ she demanded.

 

‘Interrogating a prisoner.’

 

‘You can’t interrogate a prisoner on your own?’

 

‘This man is proving ... difficult.’

 

Damin closed the door, not nearly so excited by this break in their normal routine as his wife. ‘Why not just have one of the Harshini read his mind?’

 

Tarja glanced at Damin and shrugged. ‘They have prohibitions against that sort of thing.’

 

Adrina was still surprised, but suspicious, too. The Defenders were by no means gentle interrogators. It was hard to imagine any prisoner resisting them for long. ‘And what do you suppose my husband is going to be able to extract from this prisoner that your Defender bullies can’t?’

 

‘It’s not that he won’t give us any information, your highness,’ Tarja explained, as much to Damin as Adrina. ‘It’s what he’s telling us.’ To Damin he added, ‘And I have spoken to Shananara. She’s already spoken to him and in her opinion, he’s telling the truth, even though what he’s telling us is ridiculous.’

 

‘What’s he saying?’ Damin asked. Adrina could tell he was already getting caught up in Tarja’s latest folly. It was more proof they had been here far too long.

 

‘He’s claiming,’ Tarja announced, ‘that the world is about to end.’

 

* * * *

 

Chapter II

 

Tarja’s harbinger of doom proved something of a disappointment. Adrina expected a wild-eyed lunatic dressed in rags with fiery eyes and crazy, uncombed hair that stood on end, spouting incomprehensible prophetic verses while banging his head repeatedly against a wall.

 

What she discovered — when she invited herself along to the cells at the back of the Citadel’s Defenders’ Headquarters with Tarja and Damin — was a slender youth of about nineteen or twenty. He seemed calm, had a pleasant, if unremarkable face — albeit somewhat bruised and battered — dark hair and a perfectly lucid manner. The lad was rather the worse for wear but his cuts and bruises didn’t seem to bother him overly much.

 

The stone cellblock was dimly lit, the only daylight coming from the narrow windows at the top of each cell with bars set into the thick granite blocks. Dust motes danced in the infrequent light, stirred into frenzy by their passing. The young man claiming the world was about to end stood up from his pallet as they approached the bars of his cell, his expression filled with hope and expectation.

 

‘My Lord Defender —’

 

‘Don’t start,’ Tarja warned the young man. He turned to Damin. ‘Did you want some time alone with him?’

 

Damin studied the battered and bruised prisoner with a frown. ‘I’m not sure there’s much more I can do, Tarja. Your lads appear to have worked him over quite thoroughly.’

 

‘Not that it got us anywhere. He’s sticking to his story.’

 

The prisoner took a step closer to the bars. ‘You don’t need to torture me, my lord,’ the young man insisted with a reassuring smile that split his lip afresh and started it bleeding. ‘I told you already —’

 

‘And I told you to shut up,’ Tarja warned.

 

Without knowing why she spoke up, Adrina stepped forward. ‘Let me talk to him.’

 

Damin and Tarja turned to stare at her. ‘What?’

 

‘Let me talk to him. I’ll find the truth for you.’ And for me, she added silently. Truth be told, anything was better than a day where the highlight was a sparrow stealing crumbs.

 

Her husband shook his head. ‘If you think I’m going to endanger my heir by letting you anywhere near a dangerous prisoner ...’

 

‘He’s not dangerous,’ she said. Adrina addressed her next words to the young man. ‘You’re not dangerous, are you?’

 

‘No, my lady.’

 

‘There, you see. He’s not dangerous.’

 

‘Adrina,’ Tarja began in a patient and vaguely patronising voice, ‘I know you’re bored, but this isn’t the way —’

 

‘To amuse myself?’ she cut in. ‘Thank you, Tarja, but I was going to suggest that as torturing this boy clearly hasn’t achieved anything, you might as well try something different. Like treating him in a civilised manner. It’s a well-known sign of insanity, you know ... doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.’

 

Tarja didn’t seem pleased by her observation, Damin even less so, but her husband knew her better. For all he gave the impression he was uninterested in anything that didn’t involve him having a good time, Damin Wolfblade was smarter than most people gave him credit for. He studied the prisoner for a moment longer and then, much to Adrina’s relief, he nodded.

 

‘Fine. Do it your way.’

 

Tarja was appalled. ‘You can’t be serious!’

 

Adrina looked at her husband for a moment and then turned to Tarja with a bright smile. ‘No, Tarja ... I think you’ll find that’s his serious face.’

 

The Lord Defender stared at his Hythrun guests and then threw his hands up. With an unhappy sigh, he signalled the guard to come forward with the key. ‘Be it on your own head, then,’ he warned, ‘if something happens to Hythria’s High Princess and her unborn heir.’

 

‘No need for keys,’ Damin said, holding his hand up to forestall the guard unlocking the cell. ‘Just a chair will do.’

 

Adrina opened her mouth to object, but Damin never gave her the chance. ‘Tarja’s right, Adrina. It’s too dangerous. You can talk to him, if you must, but you’re not going to do it anywhere within reach of him. You can chat from out here in the corridor through the bars.’

 

‘But Damin ...’

 

‘It’s that or we forget this and go riding.’

 

Adrina glared at her husband. She didn’t think she was in danger from this young man, but her husband had a point, because there was really no way to be certain. ‘Oh, very well.’

 

Tarja nodded to the guard and he hurried off to find Adrina a chair. She turned to the prisoner with a reassuring smile. He looked a little bemused, but had wisely done nothing threatening; nothing that would give either the Lord Defender or the High Prince of Hythria cause to change their minds about letting him talk to the princess.

 

A moment later, the guard arrived with a straight-backed wooden chair, which he placed on the cobblestones in front of the prisoner’s cell, well out of arm’s length of its occupant.

 

Damin unsheathed his sword and handed it to Adrina. ‘If he makes a move toward you, cut him down.’

 

It seemed a ridiculous precaution, but she accepted the blade as she sat down, a little annoyed her back was already starting to ache. Damn this being pregnant forever.

 

She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured both of them, straightening her skirts as she turned to face the prisoner. ‘Now go, and leave us in peace. I’ll tell you all about it when we’re done.’

 

Neither Damin nor Tarja seemed too pleased by her command, but they did as she bid, retreating up the hall out of earshot. Adrina put them out of her mind and turned to the cell. ‘Now, as for you, my lad,’ she said, shifting a little on the uncomfortable wooden chair, ‘why don’t you tell me how you got Tarja Tenragan believing your arrival heralds the end of the world?’

 

* * * *

 

Chapter III

 

‘The Lord Defender doesn’t want to believe me, my lady,’ the young man said, taking a cautious step closer to the bars, one eye on the bare sword only a few feet away. ‘If he did, he’d give me the help I need, not make me the feature attraction of the morning matinee for bored princesses looking to relieve the tedium.’

 

Adrina stared at the young man in surprise. ‘I could call my husband and the Lord Defender back, you know. They might be able to torture some manners into you, if nothing else.’

 

The young man seemed to realise his mistake. He bowed apologetically, brushing the dark hair out of his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. It was not my intention to offend you, your highness.’

 

‘Do you have a name?’

 

‘Of course.’

 

Adrina glared at him silently.

 

‘Oh ... I mean yes, yes ... Dirk Provin.’

 

‘And where are you from, Dirk Provin.’

 

‘Ranadon.’

 

Adrina’s brow furrowed for a moment. ‘I do not recall ever seeing or hearing any reference to a country called Ranadon.’

 

‘That’s because it’s not a country, your highness. It’s a world.’

 

‘I don’t understand.’

 

He dabbed at the blood leaking from his split lip with the edge of his sleeve. ‘I come from an entirely different world, your highness. We don’t even share the same sky. On my world, we have two suns.’

 

‘And yet we speak the same language.’

 

‘We all come from the same Creator.’

 

‘How did you get here?’ Adrina asked, thinking she should have listened to Tarja. This glib boy was talking nonsense.

 

‘The veil between our worlds is breaking down. I crossed into your world near a place on my world called Omaxin. I came out east of your citadel and found my way here, where I was arrested for ... well, I’m not exactly sure what I was arrested for. All I know is that when I asked to speak to someone in charge about the threat to both our worlds, they locked me up and started beating the crap out of me, mostly, I gather, because they don’t like what I’m saying.’

 

Adrina couldn’t help but smile at his wounded tone. If he was making this up, he was a very good liar. ‘Don’t people on your world draw the wrong sort of attention for suggesting the world might be about to end?’

 

He shook his head. ‘Not as a rule. Generally they start religions.’ He smiled then, as if his comment was a joke only he understood. ‘I’m sorry ... the answer to that question is the reason I’m here. When we realised the problem on our world, I came to yours, looking for the solution.’

 

‘You say we, as if others on your world know of this impending doom. Were you able to convince the rulers of your world, then, that your preposterous story is true?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘They must have a great deal of faith in you.’

 

‘On my world, I am a religious leader.’

 

‘You’re very young for such responsibility.’

 

A small self-deprecating smile flickered across the young man’s battered face. ‘It kinda helps that the most powerful prince on Ranadon is a cousin. And that he owes me a favour.’

 

‘You are a prince?’

 

Her question gave Dirk pause. He thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Well, technically. I find it’s much more useful to be Lord of the Suns. That way I’ve got everything covered.’

 

Adrina was beginning to regret volunteering to talk to this seemingly harmless youth. He was toying with her. ‘You have about one minute left to start making sense, young man, before I call my husband and the Lord Defender back and let them do with you what they will.’

 

He took a step closer to the bars, close enough now to grip them. His fingers were bloody and swollen, but seemed to be intact. ‘Let me ask you a question, first, your highness. Don’t you ever get the feeling there is something wrong with your world? Something not quite right with it?’

 

Adrina paused for a moment before answering, the boy’s question chillingly close to the uneasy feeling she’d had for some time. ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

 

He thought about it for a second or two and then said, ‘All right, let me put it another way. Don’t you ever get the feeling you’re just marking time? That nothing in your world is progressing the way it should?’

 

Adrina rose to her feet, suddenly nauseous. ‘Explain what you mean by that.’

 

‘I mean, your highness, your world and my world and all the other worlds touching them have stopped. Worse, they may soon disappear.’

 

‘What other worlds?’

 

‘The other worlds of the Creator,’ he said.

 

‘You mean the gods?’

 

He shook his head. ‘No, I mean the one who created the gods. And the goddesses. And you, and me, and this place, and my world, and your world, and everything else we see, and hear, and feel.’

 

Adrina took a small step back from him, bumping into the chair. Her experience with Xaphista’s followers had left a bad taste in her mouth and a deep suspicion of all monotheistic religions. ‘You believe in one god? Like the Kariens and their worship of Xaphista?’

 

‘Your highness, I don’t even know what a Karien is. Or a Xaphista, either, for that matter. I’m just convinced everything comes from one Creator and I think something has happened to the Creator, which is why the veils between our worlds are failing. It’s how I can be here. It’s why I came here.’

 

‘For what?’ Adrina asked. ‘We’ve never even heard of this Creator of whom you speak. How do you suppose anybody here can help you find him?’

 

‘Magic.’

 

‘Magic?’ She repeated with a frown. ‘What’s so special about our magic? Surely your own magic is powerful enough?’

 

Dirk shook his head. ‘Well, there’s the rub. You see, on my world, there is no magic. And much as it irks to admit it, your magicians may be the only ones who can find him.’

 

‘You mean the Harshini?’

 

‘Are the Harshini like the woman with the black eyes they brought here this morning to see if I was telling the truth? Her name was Shannon ... or something like that.’

 

Tarja had mentioned that Shananara had already been here to see the prisoner. ‘Yes ... she is Harshini. But what do you expect of them?’

 

‘I’m not sure yet. But the Creator must have given them powers for a reason, so we might as well avail ourselves of their skills.’

 

‘In that case,’ Adrina said, shaking her head, wondering what Shananara had made of this strange boy, ‘you don’t need the Harshini, Dirk Provin. If what you say is true — and I’m not saying I believe a word of your ridiculous story, mind you — then you may need something far more powerful. You may need the Demon Child.’

 

‘You believe me,’ the young man said, sounding surprised. He studied her with his disconcerting, metallic grey eyes.

 

‘I never said that.’

 

‘You do. Otherwise you’d have handed me back to the Defender’s torturers, by now.’

 

‘I may yet,’ Adrina said, moving the sword so she could use it like a walking stick. Damin would be outraged to see her damaging the tip so carelessly, but gods, her back was aching. ‘Explain to me how you’ve come to the conclusion this Creator of yours even exists.’

 

‘Because we’ve stopped.’

 

‘Stopped what?’

 

‘Everything.’

 

Adrina rolled her eyes. ‘I said proof.’

 

‘I could show you proof, but it’s mathematical and you wouldn’t understand it,’ he said patiently. ‘So, let me ask you a question instead, your highness. How long have you been pregnant?’

 

‘I’m due to give birth any day now.’

 

The young man nodded. ‘Fine. Leave me here to rot. But humour me, if you would, my lady. Start keeping a tally of the days from now. Come back when you have the proof for yourself.’

 

‘What are you suggesting? That I’m not nine months pregnant?’

 

‘For all I know, you’re nine years pregnant.’

 

That tallied so closely with what Adrina had been feeling for a while now that she paled at the thought of his seemingly absurd suggestion. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

 

Dirk Provin studied her with those unsettling, metallic grey eyes that saw right through her hollow rejection of his theory. ‘But you know I’m right.’

 

‘What you’re suggesting is impossible.’

 

‘So is the idea I crossed into your world from another world. But it’s true, my lady, and if you want your world to go on, then we have to do something about the Creator.’

 

Adrina shook her head. ‘This is nonsense.’

 

‘The Lord Defender doesn’t think so.’

 

‘Of course, he does,’ she said. ‘That’s why you’re locked here, fool.’

 

‘If the Defenders thought I was merely some village idiot having delusions, then I’d have been out of here hours ago. I’m still in prison because he fears I might be telling the truth, my lady. He doesn’t want me out there spreading seditious suggestions that we’re in trouble.’ He gripped the bars even tighter, pleading with his eyes as well as his words. ‘Don’t you see? That’s why he brought you and your husband here. And that Shannon woman ... She told him I was telling the truth. He just doesn’t want to believe what I’m saying and is hoping you’ll tell him he’s right and I’m wrong.’

 

‘Is that a fact?’ Adrina smiled sceptically. ‘And how do you know that?’

 

‘Because I died today, my lady.’

 

‘You died?’

 

Dirk nodded. ‘Been three times now, Lord Tenragan’s Defenders have tortured me to death trying to force a more palatable truth from me. And because I’m not going to lie to make them happy and because I’m not of this world, I keep coming back.’

 

‘I don’t believe you.’

 

Dirk pointed to the sword. ‘Then try it yourself, your highness. Run me through.’

 

‘I’m not going to help you kill yourself!’

 

‘But I won’t die, don’t you see? And until you believe that, I’m going to rot in here and you’re going to ...’

 

‘Feed crumbs to the same sparrow every morning,’ she finished, mostly to herself.

 

He looked at her strangely. ‘Sorry?’

 

‘Nothing,’ Adrina said, hefting the sword in her hand. Being Damin’s sword, it was long and heavy and built for a man of considerable strength and stature. Adrina could barely lift the damn thing.

 

She managed it nonetheless. Dirk Provin didn’t even flinch as she approached, intending to call his bluff. She was convinced he would back away at the last second, certain the lad was thinking no woman — and a pregnant one at that — would have the mettle to do anything so insane as run a prisoner through.

 

It took a special sort of insanity to kill a man in cold blood — which was unfortunate for Dirk Provin, because Adrina was being driven more than a little bit insane by being stuck here in Medalon, feeding that same damn sparrow every morning, waiting for a child who — if this boy were to be believed — would never be born.

 

Grabbing the hilt with both hands, she raised the blade, pointing it at Dirk’s chest and took another step closer. ‘Are you sure you want me to do this?’

 

Rather than pull away, the boy gripped the bars even tighter. ‘Just don’t miss,’ he said, with a grimace, as he braced himself for the impact. ‘This is going to hurt. I’d hate to suffer all that pain for a flesh wound that proves nothing.’

 

The lad’s bravado was impressive, but Adrina was still certain it was motivated by his belief in her cowardice, more than his belief in his own immortality. She stepped even closer. The blade was growing heavy in her arms. She rested it for a moment on the cross-piece of the barred cell door, the tip only inches from the boy’s chest.

 

She hefted it a little higher. Dirk Provin closed his eyes and looked away. The blade was trembling in Adrina’s hands. It had occurred to her that this lad might simply be trying to avoid any further suffering at the hands of the Defenders by arranging for someone to kill him, because he lacked the wherewithal to take his own life. But somehow, she knew that wasn’t the case. And it appalled her a little to realise that even if it was, she was prepared to take the risk, because she needed to be certain, one way or another, that he was lying.

 

At least, that’s what Adrina told herself as she thrust the blade forward, squeezing her eyes shut. The blade was sharp and heavy. It caught for a moment on the young man’s ribcage, and then he cried out as it slid, almost without resistance, into his heart.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter IV

 

‘You said you were going to talk to him!’ Tarja shouted at her. ‘Not kill him!’

 

‘I didn’t kill him,’ Adrina pointed out calmly. ‘The boy is fine.’

 

‘You ran him through, Adrina.’

 

‘And no sooner did I pull the blade out than he jumped to his feet, as right as rain.’ She turned to her husband. ‘You’re going to think I’m insane —

 

‘No! Really!’

 

‘Don’t you take that tone with me, Damin Wolfblade!’

 

The Queen of the Harshini, ill-equipped to deal with any sort of emotional extremes, stepped between Damin and his wife. ‘Adrina’s action, shocking as it is, your highness, leaves us little choice but to believe the boy’s tale,’ she said.

 

‘It’s crazy,’ Tarja said. ‘He’s crazy.’

 

‘Then how do you explain how he keeps coming back to life?’

 

Damin’s eyes widened in shock. ’Keeps coming back?’

 

‘I didn’t run him through on a whim, Damin. Tarja’s heavy-handed thugs have killed the boy three times already. And now for a fourth time, he’s come back to life. He claims we can’t kill him here because he doesn’t belong in our world.’

 

‘And, naturally, you couldn’t resist trying to prove him wrong?’ Damin turned to Tarja. ‘Is that true?’

 

‘It is,’ Shananara said, before Tarja could deny it, lacing and unlacing her fingers. For a woman denied emotional extremes, she was very unsettled.

 

‘Then Dirk Provin is telling the truth?’

 

Everyone looked to the Queen of the Harshini for the answer, but she simply shrugged. ‘I can tell you only that he believes what he claims is true, and that his gift for resurrection would seem to support his claim, Beyond that, I can tell you nothing for certain.’

 

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I believe him,’ Adrina said. ‘I don’t know if what he’s saying about a Creator is true, but I know in the very core of my being we have been here far longer than we should, and I am damn sure I should have given birth ages ago, too.’

 

‘Even if it is true,’ Tarja said. ‘What are we supposed to do about it?’

 

‘I think the first thing we need to do is confirm the rest of his story,’ Damin suggested.

 

‘You mean running him through and having him survive the experience without a mark didn’t convince you?’ Adrina snapped impatiently.

 

‘I mean finding this break in the veil between worlds he claims to have used to get to our world.’

 

Adrina perked up at the idea. ‘Will it take us long to get there?’

 

‘I’m not letting you anywhere near this wretched veil, Adrina,’ Damin said, looking a little panicked.

 

‘Why not?’

 

‘I imagine he doesn’t wish to endanger his heir, your highness,’ Shananara said with a faint smile.

 

Adrina shrugged. ‘I’d say his precious heir is in far more danger from me staying here waiting for something that’s never going to happen.’

 

‘That’s a valid point,’ Tarja said, surprising Adrina with his support. The Lord Defender looked thoughtful, making Adrina wonder what else he was concerned about. Whatever it was, he wasn’t planning to share it with them now. He rose to his feet and announced decisively, ‘I’ll make arrangements for us to leave this afternoon. They picked Provin up not far from the Citadel, so I don’t image his magical veil between the worlds — assuming it exists — is too far off the beaten track.’

 

‘He’s playing a prank on us,’ Damin warned. ‘He’s probably laughing himself silly at the idea we’re falling for this.’

 

‘Yes, dear,’ Adrina agreed. ‘The way he faked his recovery from the mortal wound I inflicted on him was simply hysterical.’

 

Damin wasn’t amused. ‘It would make me feel better if you stayed here in the Citadel.’

 

Adrina pushed herself awkwardly to her feet. ‘Why do you think that, right now, I am interested in doing anything to make you feel better, Damin Wolfblade? Besides, if Dirk Provin keeps coming back to life because he doesn’t belong here, what possible harm can any of us come to, if we cross into his world?’

 

* * * *

 

Chapter V

 

The expedition to visit the site of Dirk Provin’s supposed veil between worlds was deliberately small. The High Prince of Hythria seemed convinced they were simply pandering to this prisoner’s flights of fantasy and it was foolish in the extreme to play along with him. He could do little to argue the case, however, given the determination of the Queen of the Harshini and his wife, who — having witnessed Dirk Provin’s resurrection — were both adamant the young man’s story should be taken seriously.

 

They left after lunch, mounted in a small group with only two of Tarja’s red-coated Defenders as an escort. Adrina was thrilled to be out of the confines of the Citadel and gave her horse its head as soon as they were over the bridge and on the main road south. Damin caught up with her quick enough, and demanded she slow down, but even the brief spurt of speed seemed to blow the cobwebs out of her head, although her child protested the jostling with a few well-placed kicks, hard enough to make her grunt.

 

‘See, even the child thinks you’re a lunatic for galloping off like that.’

 

Adrina glanced over her shoulder at the others rapidly catching up behind them. ‘I don’t let you dictate to me, Damin. Why would I listen to your child?’

 

Damin had no chance to answer before the rest of their party arrived. Shananara’s face creased with concern as her unbridled horse came to a halt without any visible effort on her part. ‘Should you be galloping like that in your condition, your highness?’

 

‘I don’t see why not,’ Adrina said. ‘If Dirk Provin is right, I’m not going to give birth. Ever.’ She turned to the young man mounted on a borrowed Defender’s horse led by Tarja. As a precaution his hands were tied to the pommel of his saddle. ‘Isn’t that right, Master Provin?’

 

‘I assume so, your highness.’ The lad seemed reluctant to be drawn into making a definitive ruling on the matter. Despite being bound, he sat comfortably on the horse, clearly used to being in the saddle, but his manner seemed ill at ease.

 

‘Let’s not take that as a given,’ Damin suggested, frowning at the young man. ‘How far out of the Citadel did you say this world-bridging veil of yours is supposed to be?’

 

Dirk looked around uncertainly. ‘I thought it was east of the Citadel. We were in a forested area. Although it was dark when I arrived, it took me less than an hour to find the road.’

 

Tarja glanced at one of the guards, who nodded and pointed confidently east. ‘That would make it the woods around Bottleneck Gorge. That’s the only wooded area within half a day’s walk of the city.’

 

‘Bottleneck Gorge it is then,’ Tarja said, turning his mount east. He tugged on Dirk’s horse’s lead rein, pulling the young man behind him. Adrina fell in beside Damin and Shananara, with the two Defenders behind them, and they headed toward a veil between two worlds that was, in all likelihood, not there.

 

* * * *

 

It was an hour or so later, once they were well into the tree line, that Adrina heard the noise. It was a rhythmic pounding like nothing she had ever heard before, so foreign to her senses that at first, she thought she might be imagining it. A moment later all doubt the strange noise was nothing more than a figment of her imagination vanished as the ground shuddered with the impact of a massive explosion somewhere ahead of them.

 

The horses reared in fright.

 

‘What the hell ...’ Tarja turned to Dirk as he fought to bring both his own mount and the one he was leading, under control. ‘Founders! What was that?’

 

‘Why are you asking me?’ the boy replied, clinging to the pommel of his saddle with grim determination. ‘When I came through the veil it was like a mist. There was nothing burning. Nothing exploding, either.’

 

Adrina circled her mount a few times to settle him, and then turned to look in the direction of the detonation. The acrid black smoke — unlike the wood smoke Adrina was used to — billowed into the clear morning sky like an evil black tower tottering on its foundations.

 

Tarja dismounted, and drew his sword. ‘Get down,’ he ordered the prisoner. ‘We’ll go on foot from here.’

 

Dirk lifted his tied hands the few inches the slack in his bond would allow. ‘Love to,’ he said, ‘soon as you let me loose.’

 

Tarja waved one of the Defenders forward, drawing his sword. Damin and Adrina — with some difficulty — dismounted as the guards released Dirk Provin. The second Defender took up the reins of their mounts. Dirk shook his hands in an attempt to restore their circulation.

 

‘Stay here with the horses,’ Tarja ordered the Defenders, and then shoved Dirk none too gently to get him moving. ‘You go first.’

 

The lad shrugged. ‘You think I’m leading you into an ambush?’

 

‘Well, if you are, they’ll take you out first, won’t they?’

 

Dirk shook his head, smiling ever so slightly at Tarja’s unforgiving tone, and then headed off into the trees in the direction of the acrid-smelling smoke. The rhythmic pounding had stopped, but the source of the explosion remained a mystery. Damin offered Adrina his hand, which she accepted gladly, more exhausted from the ride than she was prepared to admit.

 

‘Do you still think he’s lying?’ Adrina asked Damin and Shananara in a low voice as they followed the Lord Defender and this interloper from another world, leaving their somewhat bemused escort back at the edge of the tree line with the horses.

 

‘I’m of two minds,’ Shananara admitted. ‘But there’s something burning up ahead and I don’t think it a bonfire.’

 

They hurried forward through the trees and the unnaturally silent forest until they reached a narrow clearing bordering the edge of a steep gully. Although they couldn’t see the water, they could hear it tumbling over the rocks below. Nobody paid any attention to it, however. Their eyes were fixed on the strange machine that lay mangled and burning on the ground and the two men climbing from inside the belly of the mechanical beast, singed and shaken, but apparently unharmed. Smoke belched from the wreckage like a dragon spewing forth all the ills of the world. Adrina’s eyes watered as she stared at the spectacle, unable to find the words to describe what she was seeing.

 

‘By the gods,’ Damin exclaimed, coming to a halt beside her. ‘What is this thing?’ He turned to Dirk Provin. ‘Is this what brought you here? This ... metal monster?’

 

Dirk shook his head, as gobsmacked as they were. ‘I ... I have no idea ...’

 

‘It’s a helicopter,’ one of the men climbing from the wrecked metal contraption announced in a matter-of-fact sort of tone. He winced in pain and then turned to glance at his companion, but made no move to help him. The man turned back to look at them. He was tall and dark-haired and — except for his hair colour — shared more than a passing resemblance to Damin. ‘What? You all look like you’ve never seen a chopper before?’

 

‘I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more, Dorothy,’ the other man grunted, still trying to extract himself from the wreckage with some difficulty. Finally, he clambered out of the burning wreck and looked around, examining each of their group with a wary eye. His companion seemed equally disturbed. ‘I’ll lay you odds we’re not even on Earth any longer, Rodent.’

 

The man named Rodent frowned. ‘It’s not possible,’ he said. ‘We just ditched the crystal in the Mariana Trench. There’s no way Lukys has had time to find it and open a rift. Besides, it’s not High Tide yet.’

 

The two men from the wreckage of the metallic machine looked at each other oddly. ‘There’s no Tide at all,’ the Rodent said. ‘Can you feel it? It’s gone.’

 

‘High tide?’ Damin asked, his hand on his sword hilt. ‘We’re nowhere near the coast here.’

 

The taller of the two men turned to Damin, looking at him curiously. ‘I’m sorry ... can you tell us where we are?’

 

‘Medalon. You have come through the veil.’

 

‘Shut up, Provin,’ Tarja said, pointing his sword at the two newcomers. ‘Who are you? Where are you from?’

 

‘My name is Declan Hawkes,’ Rodent said, holding his hands up to indicate peaceful intentions. ‘This is Cayal Lakesh. We appear to have ...’ His voice trailed off and he turned to his companion for help.

 

The other man simply shrugged.

 

‘Actually, I have no idea what we’ve done. A few minutes ago, we were flying over the Pacific Ocean, patting ourselves on the back for outwitting Lukys.’

 

‘Seems like Lukys got the last laugh,’ Cayal Lakesh said, slapping out a small flame on his sleeve as he came to stand beside his companion. ‘Who are you people?’

 

‘I am Her Serene Highness, Princess Adrina.’ Someone had to take charge here. ‘This is my husband, Prince Damin, High Prince of Hythria, Tarja Tenragan, the Lord Defender of Medalon, Shananara, Queen of the Harshini, and Dirk Provin, who claims to be a prince and a religious leader on his world of Ranadon.’

 

‘Well, at least they sent a welcoming committee worthy of us,’ Cayal remarked to his companion. ‘Where did you say we are?’

 

‘Medalon,’ Tarja said, taking a step forward, his sword still held out threateningly in front of him.

 

‘Never heard of it.’

 

‘Nor have you yet told us where you came from. Or what that metallic beast is. Or how you killed it.’

 

Declan Hawkes glanced over his shoulder at the smouldering, twisted metal heap behind him and smiled. ‘More like it tried to kill us. But somehow you — armed with nothing more than a sword and a bad attitude — managed to bring it down. How did you do that, by the way?’

 

‘The Lord Defender didn’t bring your machine down,’ Dirk said. ‘You’ve come through the veil between worlds.’

 

‘You don’t know that ...’ Damin began, but Dirk shook his head and pointed at the wreck and the two strangers.

 

‘They are not of this world, your highness, any more than I am. Look at their machine. Their clothes. They are not from your world, and they’re certainly not from mine. That leaves only another world we know nothing about.’

 

‘Do you have any idea what these people are talking about, Rodent?’ Cayal asked his companion.

 

Hawkes shook his head and turned to Tarja impatiently. ‘Are you going to stick me with that thing? If not, would you mind putting it away?’

 

‘Not until you explain —’

 

‘Look!’ Dirk Provin cut in, pushing himself between Tarja and the stranger before the two men could come to blows. ‘It’s obvious what’s happened here. These men and their machine came through the veil the same way I did. There is no point threatening them, Lord Defender, because if they’re not from this reality, you won’t be able to kill them, anyway.’

 

‘Actually, he’s not going to have any luck killing us, whatever reality he thinks we’re from,’ Cayal remarked, as Tarja somewhat reluctantly sheathed his blade. ‘Can someone please tell us what’s going on? And how a ragtag bunch like you lot were able to destroy a world?’

 

‘Destroy a world?’ Shananara asked, looking a little puzzled. ‘Nobody has destroyed anything.’

 

‘Where we come from, my lady, when you start jumping between worlds, you leave piles of rubble in your wake.’

 

Dirk Provin seemed rather rattled by that prospect. ‘Do you know that for certain?’

 

Declan Hawkes nodded. ‘Absolutely. What I don’t understand is how you were able to activate a Chaos Crystal when there’s no sign of the Tide.’

 

‘We’re nowhere near the coast here,’ Damin said, a little impatiently. ‘I told you that already.’

 

‘I don’t think he’s talking about ocean tides,’ Adrina said, wondering what a Chaos Crystal was. It sounded like trouble. ‘And we used no crystals to bring you here, gentlemen. If we are to believe young Master Provin here,’ she added, indicating Dirk, ‘you fell into our world, much the same way he did.’

 

The two strangers glanced at each other. ‘Then how do we get home?’

 

Everyone turned to look at Dirk. Adrina found that interesting. Although they all professed to doubt his theory, they seemed to assume he had the answers about what to do next.

 

As if suddenly realising the weight of expectation he was being asked to shoulder, the young man threw his hands up and took a step backward. ‘Why are you all looking at me? I have a theory about what’s causing this. I never said I had the solution to the problem.’

 

‘What is the problem, exactly?’ Cayal asked.

 

‘Dirk Provin believes we all live in different worlds created by a single entity — hence the reason we all speak the same language,’ Adrina explained. ‘He also believes something has happened to the Creator and that’s the reason the walls between our worlds are breaking down.’

 

‘It’s worse than that,’ Dirk added glumly. ‘I suspect that if we don’t do something, we’ll all cease to exist.’

 

‘I see ... so you think God brought us here?’ Hawkes asked carefully.

 

‘I think the Creator created God,’ Dirk corrected.

 

Cayal glanced at Hawkes. ‘I think the natives here have been smoking something trippy.’

 

Dirk didn’t understand the reference, but he got the patronising tone in which it was spoken clear enough. ‘You can believe me or not,’ he said. ‘Have fun finding your way home.’ He turned to face Tarja and held out his joined wrists to the Lord Defender. ‘Back to the Citadel and my cell, then, my lord? I think we’re done here.’

 

‘Hang on,’ Damin said. He seemed concerned. Adrina wondered if that meant he was starting to believe Dirk Provin, or he just didn’t like the idea of leaving these two decidedly odd strangers to their own devices. ‘Let’s assume you’re right, Provin. Let’s assume we were all created by this being you speak of, and you’re right about something happening to him. You must have some idea how we can fix this. You’d not have crossed the veil from your world otherwise.’

 

Adrina nodded in agreement. ‘He’s right ... you would have stayed at home. Aren’t you a religious leader? If you thought you couldn’t stop the end of the world, you’d be at home comforting your flock, not standing here trying to convince us to do something about it.’

 

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds perfectly reasonable to me,’ Cayal said. ‘Particularly if it means you haven’t destroyed Earth and we can get back there some time before the sun goes supernova.’ He turned to his companion and added sourly, ‘You’ll be sorry we chucked that crystal in the drink when that happens, Rodent.’

 

Damin ignored the aside, probably because very little of what the handsome stranger said made any sense. He kept his attention on Dirk Provin. ‘Well ... what do we do now?’

 

Dirk lowered his arms and shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Really ... I’m not. But ...’

 

‘But what?’ Tarja asked, his hand still on the hilt of his sword.

 

‘Well ... I think we need to find the Creator and speak to him ourselves. I mean ... he may not even be aware of what’s going on.’

 

‘Find the Creator?’ Declan Hawkes asked. ‘How?’

 

‘That’s obvious,’ Shananara said. ‘We have to go through the veil.’

 

* * * *

 

Chapter VI

 

While they were arguing Adrina noticed a mist gathering that nobody else seemed aware of. It wasn’t until the storm of argument Shananara’s announcement unleashed was in full swing that Adrina realised the mist was thickening so rapidly the trees around the clearing had faded into nothing. As Damin and Tarja, Dirk Provin, and the two strangers, Declan and Cayal, argued about the merits of crossing this imaginary barrier between worlds, the barrier overtook them.

 

‘Damin ...’

 

Her husband ignored her. He was busy disagreeing with Tarja, while Dirk tried to defend his position, and the two newcomers made snide comments to each other that seemed to indicate an ambivalence in their relationship, reminding Adrina of two teenage boys comparing the size of their manhood.

 

‘Damin!’

 

‘What, Adrina?’

 

‘It doesn’t matter any longer. Look around you.’

 

Damin looked up and gasped as he realised they were now almost completely swallowed by the mist.

 

The others finally noticed it, too. They fell silent as the mist thickened to a silent, impenetrable fog.

 

‘Founders!’ Tarja swore, looking around wildly. ‘Where did this come from?’

 

‘It’s the veil,’ Shananara said. She looked at Dirk for confirmation. ‘Isn’t it?’

 

The young man nodded, looking around with something more akin to curiosity than fear. ‘I expect so. But it wasn’t this thick the last time. And it didn’t linger like this.’

 

‘It’s similar to the cloud bank we flew through just before we crashed,’ Declan Hawkes said.

 

Cayal nodded in agreement. ‘Told you not to go there.’

 

‘You did not,’ Hawkes said, shaking his head. He turned to Dirk. ‘If we’ve been swallowed by a veil that takes us into other worlds, where are we now?’

 

‘I don’t know,’ Dirk said. ‘I don’t even know how many worlds there are. We could be anywhere.’

 

‘More to the point, how do we get back?’ Adrina asked, as it occurred to her that if they couldn’t find a way out of this fog, they may well have left their world behind forever.

 

‘I’m not sure if we can go back,’ Dirk said. ‘Maybe we can only go forward.’

 

‘We’re not actually going anywhere at the moment,’ Cayal remarked, ‘in case you haven’t noticed. It’s more like we’re being sucked in.’

 

‘The mist is getting thicker,’ Adrina said, wondering if the slight edge of panic in her voice was as obvious to the others as it was to her.

 

Damin must have noticed. He turned to her, put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. ‘It’ll be fine, Adrina.’

 

‘And you know this from your vast experience being sucked through veils into other worlds, I suppose?’

 

‘Are you sure we’re in another world?’ Declan asked. The fog had thickened so much there was nothing around them but the roiling white mist. ‘This looks like we’re caught in a cloud with a floor made of cotton wool.’

 

‘What’s cotton wool?’ Adrina asked.

 

‘Who cares?’ Tarja said, reaching out to feel the fog as if it was a tangible thing. ‘How do we get out of it?’

 

‘You can’t.’

 

They all turned at the new voice. Adrina gasped as a figure resolved out of the mist ahead of them. The man was tall, dark-haired and black-eyed and dressed in dragon rider’s leathers. He was Harshini, obviously, but Adrina didn’t realise who it was until Shananara — she who was incapable of human emotions — exclaimed in surprise, ‘Brak!’

 

So this was the legendary Brakandaran. Interesting that he was here. Particularly as he was supposed to be dead.

 

‘Are we in one of the Seven Hells?’ Tarja asked, staring at Brak warily.

 

Brak shrugged. ‘I’m not sure if there really is a Hell, actually. This place is more like ... Limbo.’

 

‘What’s that?’ Dirk asked. He had no inkling what this was. No way of appreciating the devastating impact the sudden reappearance of Brak would have on the people of Adrina’s world. Tarja, in particular, was looking pale. Adrina could imagine what he was thinking, and it wouldn’t be about a minor thing like falling through a veil between worlds.

 

‘It’s the place we all come to await our future,’ Brak said. ‘I can’t really explain it any better than that.’

 

‘A future decided by this Creator of yours, I suppose,’ Declan said, looking at Brak with deep suspicion.

 

‘Creator?’ Brak asked, eyeing the man curiously. ‘Are you a follower of the one god, Xaphista?’

 

‘I thought R’shiel killed Xaphista?’ Damin said.

 

‘She did,’ Brak agreed with a shrug. ‘But he still has his adherents.’

 

‘I’ve no idea what any of you here are talking about,’ Declan said, shaking is head in confusion.

 

‘Where we come from,’ Cayal added, ‘we’re the gods. Immortal, actually. Tide Lords. You’ve never heard of us?’ He glanced at his companion. ‘Tide must have been out a long time here, Rodent. They’ve forgotten us again.’

 

‘It matters little who you are here,’ Brak told him. ‘In this place, you are not what you were, or what you might be. You simply are.’

 

‘Even if you’re dead?’ Damin asked pointedly, staring at Brak. His arm had tightened subconsciously around Adrina when Brak appeared and he still hadn’t let her go.

 

‘Am I dead?’ Brak asked.

 

‘You were the last time I checked,’ Tarja said, as disconcerted by Brak’s appearance as Damin.

 

Brak turned to Adrina. ‘I’m dead?’

 

‘I suppose ...’ she agreed uncomfortably. ‘But Death took you body and soul, so we always thought that meant you’d be back.’

 

Dirk seemed to be listening to the conversation with great interest, but like Cayal and Declan, he was unaffected by the implications of the miraculous resurrection of Brakandaran the Halfbreed. His mind was obviously on more immediate concerns. ‘Your machine crashed, you say. Does that mean you died in your world, too?’ he asked.

 

‘Highly unlikely, son,’ Declan said. ‘Immortal, remember?’

 

Dirk turned to Brak. ‘But you died in your world?’

 

‘Apparently.’

 

‘That’s excellent!’

 

The others looked at him askance, particularly Brak. ‘Well, I’m glad you think so.’

 

‘No ... I don’t mean it’s good that you died. I mean it’s good you’re here. It means we’re getting closer.’

 

‘Closer to what?’ Tarja asked, frowning suspiciously.

 

‘To the Creator.’

 

‘He’s a religious leader, did you say?’ Cayal asked Adrina out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Clearly, a true believer.’

 

Dirk heard the aside and turned on Cayal. ‘This is nothing to do with religion. This about survival. If the veil is breaking down to the point where we can interact with people from other worlds, even people long dead from their own worlds, then one of two things is happening. We’re getting closer to the Creator or things have degenerated so far we’ve all become one mixed up hodgepodge of a world that makes no sense to anybody.’

 

‘Let’s be optimists,’ Shananara said, ‘and assume this mist is bringing us closer to the Creator.’

 

‘I hate to be the harbinger of doom, Shananara,’ Brak said, ‘but I think the hodgepodge theory may be closer to the truth.’

 

‘How would you even know?’ Cayal asked.

 

‘I meet people here sometimes,’ he said with a shrug. ‘People not of my world. Some of them are as solid and real as you are ... others are more ... ephemeral. As if they’re not fully formed.’

 

‘What do they look like?’ Dirk asked, with the shameless curiosity of a child. The more bizarre this got, the less bothered he was by the end of all life as they knew it, now he’d been presented with an even more intriguing enigma.

 

Brak shrugged. ‘Faceless, transient things. They look human, and sometimes they solidify into actual people.’ He turned to study Dirk for a moment. ‘You know ... I think I’ve seen you before. A long time ago. But you were much less substantial then.’

 

‘I’ve been here before?’

 

‘Probably,’ Brak said. ‘How did you get here, anyway?’

 

‘Here sort of came to us,’ Cayal said, turning to Dirk, who appeared to be the only one with even a workable theory, let alone an answer for their current predicament. ‘You say you’re looking for your Creator?’

 

‘Not just my Creator,’ Dirk corrected. ‘I’m looking for the man who created us all.’

 

‘Why do you assume he’s a man?’ Adrina asked.

 

Dirk shrugged. ‘Well ... I don’t know. I never really thought about it. But whatever he ... or she ... might be, I think something has happened to ... him ... her ... and that if we don’t do anything to stop it, we’ll all cease to exist, along with our worlds.’

 

Brak seemed happy to accept the young man’s ludicrous theory more easily than anybody in Medalon had done. But then, Adrina figured he’d had time to adjust to the idea. It was still very new to the people from her reality.

 

‘So what do we do now?’ Adrina asked, as Damin seemed to relax enough to let her go. It was all well and good to stand about theorising, but their current predicament wasn’t going to be resolved by talking about it. They needed to do something concrete.

 

‘Follow the light,’ Brak said, pointing into the mist.

 

‘What light?’ Tarja asked, following the direction of Brak’s pointing finger with a puzzled expression.

 

‘After a while here, you start to notice the mist isn’t evenly lit,’ the Halfbreed explained. ‘And the closer you get to the light, the more ghosts you meet.’

 

‘Ghosts?’ Shananara asked, sounding curious, rather than afraid.

 

‘The beings that haven’t formed yet,’ Brak explained. ‘Or maybe they have formed and now they’re fading away. I don’t know. I just know there are more of them the closer you get to the light. At least there used to be.’

 

‘Used to be?’ Dirk asked, looking around, probably for the lightest part of the mist. Although Brak was pointing in one direction, Adrina couldn’t really pick the difference. It all looked disconcertingly similar to her. ’

 

‘Lately it’s been flaring and then dimming for a while each day ... if you can call the time here days.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘It’s kind of hard to explain.’

 

‘I don’t understand what you mean by flaring,’ Declan said, looking confused. ‘How can it —’

 

His words were cut off by a loud buzzing noise, which was followed almost immediately by a flash of bright light so intense, so terrifying, it sundered the mist and Adrina felt herself falling into an abyss that seemed to go on forever.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter VII

 

When Adrina finally became aware of her surroundings again, she was on her hands and knees. The ground was squelchy and soft beneath her fingers, the light green and filtered through a thick canopy of vegetation that afforded no hint of blue sky.

 

She had no idea where the swamp had come from. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had certainly never experienced anything like this in person. Gone was the white mist, the deep penetrating cold of Limbo.

 

And everyone else. She was alone.

 

‘Damin!’

 

Adrina waited for a response, but in her gut she knew she was alone. She had fallen through the veil — maybe they all had — and landed ... somewhere.

 

She had no idea where this new world was, nor who inhabited it.

 

The princess was certain of only one thing. She was alone and the only way out of here was back through the veil.

 

If she could find it.

 

The world surrounding Adrina was nothing but greenery and the chirruping of a million unseen insects. Her skirts were soaked by the muddy ground. The muggy air tasted so moist and loamy she feared she was in danger of drowning with the intake of every breath.

 

A splash behind Adrina made her spin around in fright. ‘Damin? Is that you?’

 

She knew it wasn’t, just as she decided calling out like that was probably a stupid thing to do. This new world could be full of danger. And even if, like Dirk Provin, she couldn’t die on a world other than her own, she could be hurt. The agonised scream Provin let out when she’d run him through readily attested to that.

 

Adrina pushed herself to her feet as the insects fell ominously silent.

 

She heard the soft splash again and this time wisely said nothing. There was something about the splash that alarmed her. It wasn’t the sound of someone tramping through water looking for dry land — assuming there was such a thing in this place. It was the soft splash of something trying to conceal its presence. The furtive splash of a hunter looking for prey.

 

The sound seemed to be coming from her right. That left Adrina only one direction in which to run.

 

Picking up her skirts, Adrina turned and headed away from the water as fast as her bulk and the thick vegetation would allow, wondering how slow and lumbering a creature she could outrun. The ground sucked at her feet, as if deliberately trying to hold her back, but she pushed on, not sure if she was imagining the sound of someone crashing thought the jungle behind her, or if her fear was really starting to get the better of her.

 

There was also the problem of the direction she was running.

 

Suppose I’m getting further and further away from the veil, instead of running toward it?

 

Another crash in the undergrowth behind her, this one much closer than the last, spurred Adrina on, the decision about the direction she was running taken from her by whatever large scaly thing was pursing her. Adrina didn’t know if it was actually something large and scaly. It might be large and hairy. Whatever it was, it was large and it was definitely getting closer, close enough now that she could hear it grunting.

 

The crashing behind her grew louder. Adrina could no longer hear herself think over the sound of her own laboured breathing and the heavy panting of whatever was running her down, and probably planning to make a meal of her.

 

The child bounced uncomfortably in her womb as she stumbled ahead, objecting to the rough ride. Adrina grunted and stumbled in response to a particularly savage kick, just in time to discover her fears about the type of creature pursuing her were well founded. She fearfully glanced over her shoulder as the monster burst through the trees behind her.

 

It was huge, much taller than a man, reeking of rotting vegetation, dripping with green pond scum and — as she had suspected — covered in mottled brown scales. She screamed as it opened its mouth wide, its massive teeth ready to tear her head from her shoulders ...

 

... when the buzzing noise started up again, followed by another flash of intense light and once again, Adrina felt herself falling into the abyss.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter VIII

 

When she came to this time, Adrina was relieved to find an unpolished wooden floor beneath her hands rather than a squelchy smelly swamp. The floor was splintered and dusty and badly in need of cleaning. She looked around. She was in a storeroom of some kind, cluttered with the abandoned detritus of what appeared to be several lifetimes.

 

How she’d fallen through a mist and landed here remained a mystery. Even where ‘here’ might be was not clear. And she was still alone. Damin, Tarja, Shananara, Dirk Provin, Brak, and the two self-proclaimed immortal Tide Lords, Declan Hawkes and Cayal Lakesh, were gone.

 

‘Is anybody here!’ Adrina climbed to her feet with some difficulty. Her call faded into the haunted shadows of the attic, where even the dust motes seemed content to hide.

 

‘Anybody?’

 

Adrina looked around, wondering where the door might be. A shaft of sunlight filtering down from a small circular window high above the rafters provided the only light. She couldn’t see an exit immediately, but she wasn’t worried.

 

I mean ... who builds a room without a door?

 

‘I don’t think any of the rooms here have doors.’

 

Adrina squealed and spun around to face the girl who’d answered her unspoken question.

 

And whom she was absolutely positive wasn’t standing behind her a moment ago.

 

‘Gods! Where did you come from?’ she gasped, stumbling backward, recognising the newcomer immediately. It was R’shiel — the Demon Child herself — dressed the way Adrina had last seen her, in those distracting, skin-tight dragon-rider’s leathers.

 

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ R’shiel smiled, as she reached out to help Adrina up. ‘Her Serene Highness, Adrina, High Princess of Hythria, isn’t it?’ she said and then glanced at Adrina’s swollen belly and gasped, ‘Founders! You poor thing, you’re still pregnant!’ R’shiel sniffed the air and frowned. ‘And you smell awful. What’s that on your skirt?’

 

Adrina glanced down at her protruding belly and swamp-stained skirts, then sighed. ‘Yes ... well, I’m afraid the baby is out of my control, and the gunk ... well, that’s a souvenir of an encounter with something large and scaly who thought I was lunch. How did you get here?’

 

‘I’m not sure,’ R’shiel said with a shrug. She was taller than Adrina remembered and prettier too. ‘I went looking for Brak ...’

 

‘It would be too much to hope you found the Creator, instead?’ she asked. That would solve most of Adrina’s problems, right there. ‘Who?’

 

‘The Creator. It’s what Dirk Provin calls the ... being, I suppose ... who created all of us.’ She laughed — albeit a little hysterically. ‘When you appeared out of thin air, for a moment there, I thought it was you!’

 

The girl frowned as she glanced around the dusty attic, and seemed much older for it. ‘Who is Dirk Provin? Founders, for that matter,’ R’shiel said, suddenly turning back to Adrina, ‘how can you be here talking to me?’

 

‘We came through the veil.’

 

‘The veil?’

 

Adrina frowned. ‘The veil between worlds. Dirk Provin says it’s breaking down. That’s how he got to our world. And how the others —’

 

‘What others?’ The Demon Child began to circle her curiously.

 

‘The Tide Lords in the metal machine. Cayal and Declan.’

 

R’shiel reached out and poked Adrina on the shoulder, quite painfully. ‘And what are you doing here, while we’re on the subject of imaginary friends.’

 

‘I am not imaginary,’ Adrina protested. ‘I happen to be as real as you are, thank you very much.’

 

R’shiel looked around and caught sight of her reflection in a dusty mirror leaning against a stack of old papers. ‘I have to say, I’m not even sure I’m real, any longer. That doesn’t look like me.’

 

‘What do you think you look like?’ Adrina asked.

 

‘Not what I think I do, obviously.’ R’shiel caught sight of something else behind the mirror. She reached over and pulled it out. It was a stuffed toy, but nothing like any animal Adrina had ever seen before. ‘Look at this.’

 

‘Excuse me?’ Adrina was a little miffed by R’shiel’s short attention span. Several worlds were at stake. They didn’t have time to reminisce over childhood toys.

 

The girl smiled at the stumpy-legged creature, with its large nose, flat face and fluffy ears, and then put the toy down and began to poke around some of the other accumulated junk. There were abandoned toys lying about — a pair of pink satin shoes with long ribbon ties and square toes poking out from beneath a pile of dusty books, a wheeled, metal contraption. There were other items that might have been sporting equipment. Or weapons. Adrina really wasn’t sure. In her reality, they were one and the same.

 

‘This place feels like nobody has ben here fox years. I wonder who this stuff belongs to.’

 

‘I’m sure, once we get my little problem sorted out, there are many happy hours ahead of you rummaging through ... well, whatever this junk is. In the meantime, young lady, as you clearly know your way around this place, you must take me to the Creator.’

 

R’shiel looked up from a box she’d found containing what appeared to be a set of children’s coloured blocks. ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ Something else caught her eye and had her rummaging through dusty boxes. ‘Founders, there’s a whole lifetime belonging to someone in here.’

 

‘That’s wonderful, I’m sure,’ Adrina said, rolling her eyes. ‘You have to help me find the one,’ she added, opening her arms to encompass the cluttered, doorless storeroom, ‘who created all this. We need to fix this veil problem, R’shiel, so we can all get on with our lives.’

 

‘What veil problem?’

 

Before R’shiel could answer, the loud buzzing noise came back.

 

This time, Adrina was ready for the flash of intense, terrifying light. She reached out just in time, grabbing R’shiel’s arm as the floor gave way and once again, Adrina felt herself falling.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter IX

 

The room was gone. Adrina had landed in a field of lush emerald grass, the undulating fields rolling away toward a line of misty hills in the distance. The sky was overcast, a gentle misty rain was falling and when she finally gained her feet, she discovered behind them a series of tall standing stones arranged in a circle.

 

R’shiel had fallen with her. She also climbed to her feet and looked around, but she seemed intrigued by where they’d landed, rather than alarmed by it.

 

‘Any idea of where we are now?’ Adrina asked, shivering in the sudden chill of the misty rain.

 

‘I’m not sure ...’ R’shiel studied their surroundings for a moment. ‘I’ve seen it before, but the horizon seems further away every time I come here.’

 

Adrina was starting to despair of ever getting any sense from the Demon Child. Maybe the Provin lad was right about something happening to the Creator — only the problem wasn’t that something physical had happened, but that he was going mad and his first victim was R’shiel. ‘So you know this place? What is it?’

 

The girl shrugged. ‘I don’t think it has a name yet.’

 

‘Do you know what that buzzing noise was? And the light?’

 

The Demon Child shook her head, squatting down to feel the texture of the grass. ‘It started a while ago. About the same time as the voices.’

 

Wonderful! Now she’s hearing voices.

 

‘And what did these voices of your say?’

 

‘Gibberish mostly,’ she said, running her hand through the damp grass without looking up. ‘They were very odd ... they sounded like they were giving instructions. Things like, lie down, ma’am, wrists on seven ... ninety-eight degrees north by north-west of the nipple ... can we have your date of birth please?’ R’shiel stood up, breathing in the aroma of the rain-soaked grass with an appreciative sigh. She smiled. ‘This place is amazing.’

 

Adrina wanted to stamp her foot with impatience. R’shiel was speaking nothing but nonsensical claptrap. ‘What about our world?’

 

‘What about it?’

 

‘What about it?’ Adrina repeated incredulously. ‘While you’re here chatting with the voices in your head and admiring the scenery, my girl, our world — your world too, you might recall — is falling apart. Have you forgotten that?

 

‘No ...’

 

‘Then have some mercy, at least. I’ve been pregnant forever!’

 

The Demon Child glanced at Adrina’s swollen belly. She reached out and placed her hand on it for a moment, smiling apologetically. ‘I wonder if you’ll have a boy or a girl.’

 

‘I’m beyond caring, to be honest.’

 

R’shiel removed her hand and studied Adrina thoughtfully. ‘Do you want a girl? Or would you rather a boy who grows up to be like his father?’

 

‘Hah! That would imply you’re going help me do something about my child growing up at all, doesn’t it?’

 

Her tone seemed to wound the Demon Child. ‘This is not my fault, you know,’ She looked past Adrina, her attention suddenly elsewhere. ‘Did you see that?’

 

‘See what?’

 

‘I’m not sure.’ R’shiel seemed puzzled. ‘I think I saw something moving, which is odd, because there’s never been anything alive here before.’ R’shiel pushed past Adrina and broke into a run, heading for the standing stones. She disappeared inside the circle. A moment later, something emitted an angry squeal, like a puppy caught in a trap, and R’shiel reappeared clutching a strange creature by the scruff of its neck. It looked like a large, animated doll dressed in an odd red suit, with tiny leather boots and jaunty green scarf tied around his neck, which R’shiel was using to maintain her stranglehold on its squirming body.

 

The creature wiggled furiously, trying to escape the Demon Child’s firm grasp, cursing at her in a variety of languages, his little face wrinkled with angry malice.

 

‘Gods!’ Adrina said. ‘What is that?’

 

‘I have no idea,’ R’shiel said. She lifted the creature to look him in the eye, keeping him at arms length to avoid his wildly flailing limbs. ‘What are you?’

 

‘I am ye death!’ the little man screeched. ‘I am ye worst nightmare! Put me down, woman, or I’ll smite ye where ye stand!’

 

R’shiel smiled. ‘Smite away, little one. I am the Demon Child. I smite back, you know.’

 

The little creature suddenly went limp, his anger forgotten. He hung in her grasp, eying R’shiel curiously. ‘Ye are the Demon Child?’

 

‘In the flesh. Who are you?’

 

‘What are you?’ Adrina added with a frown, fearful this might be the Creator. They were in serious trouble if it was.

 

‘I be one of the Lairds of the Leipreachán,’ the little man announced as proudly as he could while dangling by the scruff of his neck. ‘My name is ... well, it’s none of ye damned business, actually.’

 

‘Well, Lord None of Ye Damned Business,’ R’shiel said, ’we’re looking for the Creator. Do you know where to find him?’

 

The leipreachán’s eyes narrowed slyly. ‘I might. What do ye need her for?’

 

‘Our worlds are in danger,’ Adrina explained. ‘Falling apart. The veils between them are breaking down.’

 

The little old man sniggered. ‘That’s because ye are the old worlds. The Creator is done with ye.’

 

‘How do you know that?’ R’shiel demanded, shaking him to emphasise her point.

 

‘Because this be the new world,’ the leipreachán said with a smirk, opening his arms wide to indicate the rolling green hills surrounding them. ‘The old worlds will fade into nothingness as the Creator forgets all about ye.’

 

‘How do we stop the Creator forgetting about us, my lord?’ Adrina asked politely, wondering if R’shiel’s intimidation tactics were actually making things worse.

 

‘Ye have to know the magic word,’ the leipreachán said.

 

‘And just what, exactly, is the magic word?’ R’shiel asked.

 

Before the leipreachán could answer, however, the loud buzzing noise started up again.

 

As if he knew what was coming, the little man started wriggling again with renewed vigour as the intense light blinded all three of them. R’shiel lost her grip as the rolling, misty hills disappeared and once again, Adrina was falling.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter X

 

Every morning, a small brown bird flew down to eat the crumbs the High Princess of Hythria sprinkled on the sill outside the living-room window of her borrowed apartment in the Medalonian capital, the Citadel. This morning was the same as every other morning. The small brown bird flew down to eat the crumbs on the sill outside the living-room window of her apartment. The little bird landed on the very edge on the stonework, tentatively approach the crumbs, tweeting softly ... and then snatched up the fattest crumb and flew away, disappearing amidst the shining white spires of the city with its prize.

 

The same bird, the same time, and, Adrina was certain, the same damn crumb.

 

‘We did this yesterday,’ she said, climbing awkwardly to her feet as the sparrow dived and swooped away.

 

Damin glanced up from the scroll he was reading by the fire. As usual, he was up before she was, by the fire reading. As usual, Adrina thought it odd, because Damin wasn’t the sitting-by-the-fire type.

 

‘Did we?’

 

As usual, Damin was distracted. No, worse than that. Utterly disinterested.

 

‘I’ve been pregnant forever.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

 

‘Tell me about it.’

 

Adrina glared at her husband — sitting there sipping mulled wine as if he didn’t have a care in the world. ‘It’s all right for you, Damin Wolfblade. You’re the wastrel who spends his days swanning around the Citadel with Tarja, pretending he’s important.’

 

He grinned at her.

 

‘I’m the High Prince of Hythria, Adrina. I am important,’ she said in unison with her husband.

 

Damin stared at her in surprise. ‘How did you know ... ?’

 

‘What you were going to say?’ she finished for him. ‘The same way I know the next thing I should say is something about how I’ve nothing to do but sit here incubating your precious Hythrun heir.’ She held up her hand before he could interrupt, adding To which you will reply that you rather thought I liked the idea of being here in Medalon because I kicked up a big enough fuss about coming along.’

 

Damin was studying her as if she was going a little bit mad.

 

‘I know ...’ Adrina sighed wearily as she stretched her aching back. ‘You think I’m crazy. So I’m going to ask you if you ever feel as if we’ve been here in the Citadel forever. You’re going to tell me you never really thought about it. And we’ll go back and forth, talk about going for a ride and such for a while until I lose my patience and throw something at you.’

 

Damin still couldn’t think of anything to say, although he looked like he was wracking his brain for something that wouldn’t land him in trouble. He was saved by the knock at the door to their apartment — precisely on cue.

 

‘That’ll be Tarja ...’ she said as Damin crossed the sitting room to open it, still looking at her like she’d suddenly sprouted a third eye in the middle of her forehead.

 

He opened the door and stepped back to allow their visitor into the room. Sure enough, it was Tarja.

 

The Lord Defender bowed politely to both of them. ‘Good morning Damin. Your highness.’

 

‘Good morning, Tarja,’ Adrina said. ‘Shall we go visit your prisoner?’

 

Tarja stared at her in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re hoping to borrow Damin for a while. You have a bit of a problem and think he might be able to help.’

 

‘I beg your pardon?’ he repeated, looking at her oddly.

 

‘Adrina seems to have acquired the ability to predict the future,’ Damin explained, closing the door with a decidedly worried frown. ‘It’s more than a little spooky, I have to say.’

 

‘I’m not prescient, Damin,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘We’ve been here before and I just want to save time. So take me to Dirk Provin. Now.’

 

Tarja glanced at Damin. ‘How could she know about Dirk Provin?’

 

‘I have no idea,’ Damin said. ‘I don’t even know who he is.’

 

‘He’s the prisoner,’ Tarja said, looking even more rattled than Damin, ‘claiming the world is about to end.’

 

* * * *

 

Chapter XI

 

The stone cellblock was dimly lit as usual, the only daylight coming from the narrow windows at the top of each cell with bars set into the thick granite blocks. Dust motes danced in the infrequent light, stirred into frenzy by their passing. Dirk Provin stood up from his pallet as they approached the bars of his cell, his expression filled with hope and expectation.

 

‘My Lord Defender —’

 

‘Don’t start,’ Tarja warned the young man. He turned to Damin. ‘Did you want some time alone with him?’

 

‘Damin doesn’t need time alone with him,’ Adrina declared, pushing her way forward. ‘All he’s going to tell Damin is what he’s been insisting all along: he comes from an entirely different world. His world has two suns and we speak the same language because we all come from the same Creator.’

 

Dirk Provin stared at Adrina with a look very similar to the one her husband and Damin had treated her to, earlier this morning.

 

‘How do you know that?’ he asked.

 

‘It’s a long story,’ Adrina said, ‘but to save time, let’s just agree that the veil between our worlds is breaking down and you crossed into your world near a place on your world called ... well, truth is, I can’t remember what it was called, but it doesn’t really matter.’

 

‘Omaxin,’ Dirk said, looking very unsettled. ‘It was near Omaxin.’

 

‘Well, there you go,’ she said, turning to Damin and Tarja. ‘Release him.’

 

‘Excuse me?’

 

‘Release him,’ she repeated.

 

Damin asked what everyone was obviously thinking. ‘Why?’

 

‘Because we have to meet up with the others.’

 

‘What others?’ Dirk asked, even more puzzled than Damin and Tarja, who’d had a short while to get used to the fact that she seemed to know everything that what was going to happen next before it happened.

 

‘The two Tide Lords who are about to come crashing through the veil in a large mental monster that makes no sense to anybody. If we’re going to figure this out, we’re going to need them too, I suspect.’ She turned to Dirk. ‘You came out of the veil east of the Citadel, didn’t you?’

 

He took a step closer to the bars, close enough now to grip them. His fingers were bloody and swollen, but seemed to be intact. ‘You know about the veil?’

 

‘I do,’ she said.

 

‘How?’ Tarja asked, not attempting to hide the scepticism in his tone.

 

‘Because this has happened before, Tarja. And it keeps happening, only like Dirk Provin says, the veil is breaking down, so some of us are beginning to notice.’

 

Damin and Tarja seemed unconvinced, but Dirk was positively excited. ‘You’ve met people from other worlds?’

 

‘They called themselves Tide Lords. I think they have magical powers of some kind, so we’ll need their help.’

 

‘With what?’ Damin asked, looking at his wife as if she had gone completely mad.

 

Adrina paused for a moment before answering, and then shrugged. Either Damin was right and she’d lost her mind, or this was their only salvation. Right now, instinct told her the latter was her best option.

 

‘Because,’ she said, ‘they are magicians and the only way to fix this is to find the magic word.’

 

* * * *

 

Chapter XII

 

The expedition to visit the site of Dirk Provin’s supposed veil between worlds was small. The High Prince of Hythria seemed convinced they were simply pandering to Adrina’s flight of fantasy. He could do little to argue the case, however, given the determination of his wife and Shananara, the Queen of the Harshini, who was adamant Adrina’s prescience should be taken seriously.

 

They left after lunch, mounted in a small group with only two of Tarja’s red-coated Defenders as an escort — as they had the last time they undertook this journey. Adrina gave her horse its head as soon as they were over bridge and on the main road south, out of impatience as much as anything. Damin caught up with her quick enough, and demanded she slow down, something she was reluctantly forced to do when her child protested the jostling with a few well-placed kicks, hard enough to make her grunt.

 

‘See, even the child thinks you’re a lunatic for galloping off like that.’

 

Adrina glanced over her shoulder at the others only a few paces behind them. ‘I don’t let you dictate to me, Damin. Why would I listen to your child?’

 

Damin had no chance to answer before the rest of their party caught up to them. Shananara’s face creased with concern. ‘Should you be galloping like that in your condition, your highness?’

 

‘I don’t see why not,’ Adrina said with a shrug. ‘Unless we find the magic word, I’m not going to give birth. Ever.’ She turned to the young man mounted on a borrowed Defender’s mount led by Tarja, his hands tied to the pommel of his saddle. ‘Isn’t that right, Master Provin?’

 

‘I assume so, your highness.’ The lad seemed a little reluctant to make a definitive ruling on the matter. He sat comfortably on the horse, clearly used to being in the saddle, but he was ill at ease.

 

‘Let’s not take that as a given,’ Damin suggested, frowning at the young man. ‘How far out of the Citadel did you say this world-bridging veil of yours is supposed to be?’

 

Dirk looked around uncertainly. ‘I thought it was east of the Citadel. We were in a forested area. It took me less than an hour to find the road.’

 

Tarja glanced at one of the guards, who nodded and pointed confidently east. ‘That would make it the woods around —’

 

‘Bottleneck Gorge,’ Adrina said, before the guard could answer. ‘That’s the only wooded area within half a day’s walk of the city.’

 

‘Bottleneck Gorge it is then,’ Tarja said, turning his mount east with a shrug, apparently not convinced, but not so certain Adrina was insane that he could ignore her, either. He tugged on Dirk’s lead rein, pulling the young man behind him. Adrina fell in beside Damin and Shananara, with the two Defenders behind them, and they headed toward a veil between two worlds that only Adrina and Dirk Provin believed was there.

 

* * * *

 

It was an hour or so later, once they were well into the tree line, that Adrina heard the rhythmic pounding she’d been waiting for; a noise so foreign to her senses that the first time she’d heard it, she thought she might have imagined it. A moment later, the ground shuddered with the impact of a massive explosion somewhere ahead of them.

 

The horses reared in fright.

 

‘What the hell ...’ Tarja turned to Dirk as he fought to bring both his own mount and the one he was leading, under control. ‘Founders! What was that?’

 

‘I have no idea,’ the young man said, clinging to the pommel of his saddle with grim determination. ‘When I came through the veil it was like a mist. There was nothing burning. Nothing exploding, either.’

 

‘It’s the Tide Lords,’ Adrina said as she circled her mount a few times to settle him, and then turned to look in the direction of the explosion and the acrid black smoke billowing into the clear morning sky.

 

Still looking sceptical, Tarja dismounted, and drew his sword. ‘Get down,’ he ordered the prisoner. ‘We’ll go on foot from here.’

 

Dirk lifted his tied hands the few inches the slack in his bond would allow. ‘Love to,’ he said, ‘soon as you let me loose.’

 

Tarja waved one of the Defenders forward, drawing his sword. Damin and Adrina — with some difficulty — dismounted as the guards released Dirk Provin. The second Defender took up the reins of their mounts. Dirk shook his hands in an attempt to restore circulation to them.

 

‘Stay here with the horses,’ Tarja ordered the Defenders, and then shoved Dirk none too gently to get him moving. ‘You go first.’

 

Adrina pushed her way ahead of them. ‘Gods, Tarja, you’d think he was leading you into an ambush.’

 

‘Well, if it is, they’ll take him first, won’t they?’

 

Dirk shook his head, smiling Damin offered Adrina his hand, which she accepted ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We don’t have much time before the veil closes in on us.’

 

They hurried forward through the trees and the unnaturally silent forest. Adrina could feel the unspoken scepticism of her companions and ignored it. When they reached the narrow clearing bordering the edge of a steep gully, they stopped, staring at the strange machine that lay mangled and burning on the ground and the two men climbing from inside the belly of the mechanical beast. As it had the last time Adrina was here, smoke belched from the wreckage like a dragon spewing forth all the ills of the world. Her eyes watered as she stared at the spectacle, tapping her foot impatiently.

 

‘By the gods,’ Damin exclaimed, coming to a halt beside her. ‘What is this thing?’ He turned to Dirk Provin. ‘Is this what brought you here? This ... metal monster?’

 

Dirk shook his head, as gobsmacked as they were. ‘I ... I have no idea ...’

 

‘It’s a helicopter,’ Adrina said as one of the men climbed from the wrecked metal contraption.

 

He winced in pain and then turned to glance at his companion, but made no move to help him. The man turned back to look at them. ‘What? You all look like you’ve never seen a chopper before?’

 

‘They haven’t,’ Adrina announced, stepping forward. ‘Well, no actually, they have. They just don’t remember it. You’re Declan Hawkes, right? And that is Cayal Lakesh?’

 

‘I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more, Dorothy,’ Cayal grunted, still trying to extract himself from the wreckage with some difficulty. When he was free, he clambered out of the burning wreck and looked around, his curious gaze fixing on Adrina. His companion seemed equally disturbed. ‘I’ll lay you odds we’re not even on Earth any longer, Rodent.’ He studied Adrina curiously for a moment. ‘How do you know who we are ?’

 

‘We’ve met before, although you probably don’t remember it. You just ditched some crystal you’re trying to hide in something called the Mariana Trench and believe there’s no way your friend Lukys has had time to find it and open a rift. Oh, and it’s not High Tide yet.’ She turned and added to her husband. ‘I know ... we’re nowhere near the coast here. Just trust me on this, Damin.’

 

The two men from the wreckage of the metallic beast stared at her with concern. ‘Where are we?’

 

‘Medalon. You have come through the veil. I am Her Serene Highness, Princess Adrina. This is my husband, Prince Damin, High Prince of Hythria, Tarja Tenragan, the Lord Defender of Medalon, Shananara, Queen of the Harshini, and Dirk Provin, who is a prince and a religious leader on his world of Ranadon.’

 

‘Well, at least they sent a welcoming committee worthy of us,’ Cayal remarked to his companion. ‘Where did you say we are?’

 

‘Medalon,’ Tarja said, taking a step forward, his sword still held out threateningly in front of him.

 

‘Never heard of it.’

 

‘Nor have you yet told us where you came from. Or what that metallic beast is. Or how you killed it.’

 

Adrina slapped Tarja’s blade away impatiently. ‘We don’t have time for any of this idiotic male posturing,’ she said. ‘The veil will envelop us soon and before it does, we need to find the magic word.’

 

‘Please?’ Cayal ventured with a tentative smile.

 

Adrina wanted to stamp her foot with impatience at these foolish men, but she knew she didn’t have time. The clearing was already filling with a haze which she suspected was more than just the result of the metal machine crash. The veil was taking them over once more. Any minute now, the loud buzzing would start up.

 

She didn’t want to do this over and over again.

 

‘What do you want us to do, your highness?’ Dirk Provin asked. He seemed to understand her impatience. And believe her when she claimed this had all happened before.

 

‘Believe what I’m telling you, that would be a good start,’ she snapped. ‘I know you all think I’m losing my mind, but this has happened before. Who knows how many times? I’ve been through the same veil that brought you two here,’ she explained, pointing to Declan and Cayal, ‘and you,’ she added to Dirk. ‘I have seen other worlds too, and I met Brak and R’shiel and a leipreachán.

 

‘What’s a leipreachán?’ Damin asked.

 

‘It’s an Irish fairy,’ Declan replied, looking around with a frown. ‘Are you certain we’re not on Earth?’

 

‘I don’t even know what Earth is,’ Adrina said, annoyed at the interruption. ‘I only know the leipreachán said the Creator has lost interest in us, and that to save our worlds we need to discover the magic word.’

 

‘You do know leipreacháns are sneaky little buggers who like to play tricks on people, don’t you?’ Cayal said, clearly doubtful of her sanity.

 

‘I believe her,’ Dirk Provin said.

 

‘You would,’ Tarja snapped, rolling his eyes.

 

‘Well, on the balance of things, your story is no crazier than anything else that’s happened today,’ Declan said with a shrug. ‘Exactly how did you meet this leipreachán anyway?’

 

Adrina wasn’t sure she had time to explain. The mist seemed to be getting closer. As quickly as she could, she told them her story. About how she was certain she’d lived this day over and over. How she’d met Dirk before and how they’d come here to find the Tide Lords. She told them about the loud buzzing noise and falling through the veil; about meeting Brak and R’shiel and the leipreachán and his insistence that the secret to their future was to discover the magic word. They listened to her in silence, giving Adrina no hint as to whether they believed her or not.

 

She never really got a chance to find out if they did believe her story. Adrina had barely finished her tale when the buzzing noise started. Reaching for the nearest person, the bright light blinded her as she began to fall through the veil, with no idea where she would land, or who was falling with her.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter XIII

 

Every morning, a small brown bird flew down to eat the crumbs the High Princess of Hythria sprinkled on the sill outside the living-room window of her borrowed apartment in the Medalonian capital, the Citadel. This morning was the same as every other morning. He landed on the very edge on the stonework, tentatively approaching the crumbs, tweeting softly ... and then flew away squawking in fright at the appearance of a small man dressed in a red woollen suit, who was suddenly and inexplicably perched on the windowsill.

 

Adrina stared at the leipreachán and then glanced over her shoulder at Damin, who was engrossed in the scroll he was reading, and utterly disinterested in his wife’s preoccupation with taming the birds who inhabited the high towers of the Citadel.

 

‘How did you get here?’ Adrina asked, turning back to the leipreachán.

 

‘Same way you got to my story, I imagine,’ he said, looking past Adrina to examine the room curiously. ‘Is that ye husband?’

 

‘If I answer you, will you tell me the magic word?’

 

The leipreachán laughed. ‘Ye’ve not had any luck finding it then?’

 

‘I wouldn’t be here feeding sparrows if I had,’ she pointed out grumpily.

 

The little man seemed to find that terribly amusing. He crossed his arms and his legs and looked out over the tall white towers of the Citadel for a moment with a wistful sigh. ‘Seems a pity this is all going to fade away soon. All for want of one little word.’

 

‘And what word would that be?’

 

‘Ah ... now that’s ye problem, dearie. Not mine.’

 

Adrina reached out to grab the little man, but he disappeared over the edge of the sill before she could reach him. For a moment, the idea of him plummeting to the ground where someone would have to scrape him off the pavement with a shovel was very satisfying, but then she realised the leipreachán probably couldn’t die here, because he wasn’t from her world ...

 

‘We have to see Tarja’s prisoner,’ Adrina announced abruptly.

 

Damin looked up. ‘Sorry?’

 

‘When Tarja gets here,’ she said impatiently. ‘We have to see his prisoner.’

 

‘Ah ... when Tarja gets here?’

 

Precisely on cue, there was a knock at the door to their apartment.

 

‘That’ll be Tarja ...’ she said, looking unavoidably smug as Damin crossed the sitting room. He opened the door and stepped back to allow their visitor into the room. Sure enough, it was Tarja.

 

The Lord Defender bowed politely to both of them. ‘Good morning Damin. Your highness.’

 

‘Good morning, Tarja,’ Adrina said. ‘Let’s go.’

 

Tarja stared at her in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘I need to speak to Dirk Provin,’ she said, picking up her shawl. ‘Don’t worry, you can explain who he is to Damin on the way.’

 

‘I beg your pardon?’ he repeated, looking at her oddly.

 

‘Adrina seems to have ... lost her mind, actually,’ Damin said, as she headed down the hall. Adrina didn’t care what he thought. The end of the world was at stake.

 

* * * *

 

The stone cellblock was dimly lit as usual, the only daylight coming from the narrow windows at the top of each cell with bars set into the thick granite blocks. Dust motes danced in the infrequent light, stirred into frenzy by their passing. Dirk Provin stood up from his pallet as they approached she bars of his cell, his expression filled with hope and expectation.

 

‘I was expecting the Lord Defender —’

 

‘Do you know who I am?’

 

Dirk shook his head. ‘Should I?’

 

‘I suppose not, but it would have simplified things if you remembered. You’re Dirk Provin, right? You come from an entirely different world. Your world has two suns and we speak the same language because we all come from the same Creator.’

 

Dirk Provin stared at Adrina with a look very similar to the one her husband and Damin had treated her to, earlier.

 

‘How do you know that?’ he asked.

 

‘It’s a long story,’ Adrina said, ‘but to save time, let’s just agree that the veil between our worlds is breaking down and you crossed into your world near a place on your world called ... well, truth is, I can’t remember what it was called, but it doesn’t really matter.’

 

‘Omaxin,’ Dirk said, looking very unsettled. ‘It was near Omaxin.’

 

‘Whatever ... the point is, I know how to fix things.’

 

‘You do?’

 

‘We need the magic word.’

 

‘Well, naturally,’ Dirk said in a tone that said he was humouring her and probably thought her barking mad. ‘And how do you know we need ... the magic word.’

 

‘Because I’ve met people from other worlds besides you.’

 

Dirk’s expression abruptly changed from scepticism to relief. ‘You believe me, then?’

 

‘Of course I believe you. But I need to you to explain something. You say you come from another world?’

 

He nodded. ‘It’s called Ranadon.’

 

‘This other ... man, I met. He didn’t call his world a world. He called it his story.’

 

‘You hesitated when you said man.’

 

‘Well, I’m not sure he was a man, come to think of it. He called himself a leipreachán. Declan Hawkes says that is some sort of Irish fairy.’

 

‘Then perhaps story means to him what world means to us?’ Dirk ventured, looking a little uncertain.

 

‘But why would it?’ she asked. ‘You said it yourself. We all speak the same language because we all come from the same creator. Why wouldn’t we use the same words to mean the same thing?’

 

Dirk thought about that for a moment and then nodded. ‘So you think the Creator is —’

 

‘Creating stories, not worlds,’ she finished for him, his measured tones too slow for her excitement. ‘It makes perfect sense, don’t you see? We’re not separate worlds, we’re separate stories, and the new stories, like the one with the leipreachán, are taking over from the old.’

 

‘And one single word is going to save us?’

 

‘Of course!’ she said, almost bouncing up and down with excitement. ‘Don’t you see? What’s the one word that will continue our stories? That will keep our worlds and the people in them alive?’

 

Dirk stared at her with the dawning light of comprehension. He shook his head as the sound of Damon and Tarja running down the dimly lit corridor in pursuit of her grew louder and louder.

 

‘It can’t be that simple,’ he said, shaking his head.

 

‘Why not?’ she asked, as Damin skidded to a halt and pulled her roughly away from the bars and the man he undoubtedly considered a dangerous prisoner.

 

‘Are you hurt, your highness?’ Tarja asked a moment later as he arrived. Dirk wisely stepped back from the bars. Tarja glared at the young man warningly and then turned to Adrina. ‘Did he hurt you?’

 

‘Of course not,’ she said, shaking free of Damin’s grip. ‘Let him go.’

 

‘I can’t let him go!’

 

‘Why not? At worst, he’s a lunatic, at best he’s telling the truth. Trust me, Tarja. If you let him go and escort him back to where you found him, he’ll leave. Forever.’

 

‘How could you possibly know that?’ Damin demanded, caught between confusion and anger.

 

‘Because he knows the magic word,’ she said, looking at Dirk with a smile. ‘And he’s going to tell it to the Tide Lords, too, on his way back through the veil.’

 

* * * *

 

Chapter XIV

 

Adrina heard the rhythmic pounding ahead as she pushed through the trees. A moment later, the ground shuddered with the impact of a massive explosion somewhere in front of them.

 

The horses reared in fright.

 

‘It’s the Tide Lords,’ Adrina said, before anybody could ask and then turned to look in the direction of the explosion. The acrid black smoke billowed into the clear morning sky as Tarja dismounted, and drew his sword. ‘Get down,’ he ordered Dirk. ‘We’ll go on foot from here.’

 

Adrina hurried through the trees and the unnaturally silent forest. She could feel their unspoken scepticism, and ignored it. She was excited now, wanting to get this done. When they reached the narrow clearing bordering the edge of a steep gully, she stopped, ignoring the strange machine that lay mangled and burning on the ground, focussing instead on the two men climbing out of the mechanical beast. As it had the last time Adrina was here, smoke belched from the wreckage like a dragon spewing forth all the ills of the world. Her eyes watered as she stared at the spectacle, tapping her foot impatiently.

 

‘By the gods,’ Damin exclaimed, coming to a halt beside her. ‘What is this thing?’ He turned to Dirk Provin. ‘Is this what brought you here? This ... metal monster?’

 

Dirk shook his head, as gobsmacked as they were. ‘I ... I have no idea ...’

 

‘It’s a helicopter,’ Adrina said as one of the men climbed from the wrecked metal contraption. ‘You’re Declan Hawkes, yes? And Cayal Lakesh?’

 

‘I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more, Dorothy,’ Cayal grunted, still trying to extract himself from the wreckage. When he was free, he clambered out of the burning wreck and looked around, his curious gaze fixing on Adrina. His companion seemed equally disturbed. ‘I’ll lay you odds we’re not even on Earth any longer, Rodent.’ He studied Adrina curiously for a moment. ‘How do you know who we are?’

 

‘We’ve met before, although you don’t remember it. You just ditched some crystal you’re trying to hide in something called the Mariana Trench and there’s no way your friend Lukys has had time to find it and open a rift. Oh, and it’s not High Tide yet.’ She turned and added to her husband. ‘I know ... we’re nowhere near the coast here. Just trust me on this, Damin.’

 

The two men from the wreckage of the metallic beast stared at her with unease. ‘Where are we?’

 

‘Medalon. You have come through the veil. I am Her Serene Highness, Princess Adrina. This is ... well, you know, I don’t think it matters who we are. All you need to know is that you’re not in your world, you don’t belong here, and the only way back is the magic word.’

 

‘Please?’ Cayal ventured with a tentative smile.

 

Adrina knew she didn’t have time to berate the Tide Lord for his flippancy. Every time they did this, the gap between the veil’s appearance seemed to grow shorter. The clearing was already filling with smoky mist. The veil was taking them over again. Any minute now, the loud buzzing would start up again.

 

She was fed up with doing this over and over.

 

‘Just tell them, your highness,’ Dirk Provin suggested. He seemed to understand her impatience. And he believed her when she claimed this had all happened before.

 

He was smiling. Probably because this time, he knew, he’d be going home.

 

Adrina considered that excellent advice. As the buzzing noise started yet again, she reached for Cayal and whispered the magic word to him. A moment later, the bright light blinded her as she began to fall through the veil, only this time she wasn’t frightened.

 

Adrina knew the magic word.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter XV

 

Every morning, a small brown bird flew down to eat the crumbs the High Princess of Hythria sprinkled on the sill outside the living-room window of her borrowed apartment in the Medalonian capital, the Citadel.

 

Every morning the little bird would land on the very edge of the stonework, tentatively approach the crumbs tweeting softly ... and then snatch up the fattest crumb and fly away, disappearing amidst the shining white spires of the city with its prize.

 

Every morning. The same bird, the same time, and, Adrina was sure, the same damn crumb.

 

Didn’t we do this yesterday? Adrina thought about asking, fearful the words would provoke a replay of the day’s events yet again.

 

‘Didn’t we do this yesterday?’

 

Adrina spun around and stared at Damin in shock, forgetting all about the dull ache in her back that had bothered her since she woke this morning. It seemed to intensify as she climbed awkwardly to her feet. Her daily winged visitor dived and swooped away toward his nest somewhere high in the white towers of the city.

 

Damin glanced up from the scroll he was reading by the fire.

 

‘Didn’t we do this yesterday?’ He sounded distracted. But no longer utterly disinterested. ‘It feels like you’ve been pregnant forever.’

 

‘You’ve noticed.’

 

‘Well,’ he said grin, ‘it’s kind of hard to miss ...’

 

‘I don’t mean me being pregnant,’ she said impatiently. ‘I mean you noticing that we keep doing this over and over.’

 

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘We do, don’t we? Why is that?’

 

‘It’s because our worlds are stagnating. The veils between them are breaking down. It’s something to do with the Creator being either too distracted or too busy creating new worlds to care about us. The only way to save our world and set things to rights is to use the magic word. Trouble is, even though I know what it is, I don’t know what to do with it.’

 

Damin put down his wine and studied his wife for a moment before answering. ‘You know, only about every third word you said then makes any sense at all.’

 

‘I know,’ she said in frustration. ‘But when Tarja gets here to tell us about Dirk Provin, we can fetch him, and then speak to the Tide Lords and see if any of them know how to use the magic word.’

 

‘What do you mean, when Tarja gets ...?’ Damin’s question was interrupted by a knock at the door — precisely on cue.

 

‘That’ll be Tarja,’ she said as her husband crossed the sitting room to open it, staring at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a third eye in the middle of her forehead.

 

He opened the door and stepped back to allow their visitor into the room. Sure enough, it was Tarja.

 

The Lord Defender bowed politely to both of them. ‘Good morning Damin. Your highness.’

 

‘Good morning, Tarja,’ Adrina said. ‘Shall we go visit your prisoner?’

 

Tarja stared at her in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re hoping to borrow Damin for a while. You have a bit of a problem and think he might be able to help.’

 

‘I beg your pardon?’ he repeated, looking at her oddly.

 

‘Apparently, our worlds are stagnating,’ Damin explained, closing the door. ‘The veils between them are breaking down because the Creator is either too distracted or too busy creating new worlds to care about us. The only way to save our world and set things to rights is to use the magic word. Trouble is, even though Adrina knows what it is, we don’t know what to do with it.’

 

Adrina stared at Damin in shock.

 

‘What?’ he said, a little defensively. ‘I said you didn’t make any sense. I never said I didn’t hear you.’

 

Tarja glanced at Damin. ‘How could she know about the prisoner?’

 

‘I have no idea,’ Damin said. ‘I don’t even know who your prisoner is. I just know ... well, I’m not sure what I know. But I trust Adrina’s instincts. I think we should do as she says.’

 

‘And what is it you want us to do, you highness?’ Tarja asked her, more than a little dubious.

 

‘We have to ask Dirk Provin and ... the other people we’ll meet later today, what to do with the magic word,’ Adrina said, trying to be patient. In truth, she wanted to bolt down the stairs in search of the solution to this endless, repetitive existence, but she knew she had to contain herself. It would do no good to lose Tarja’s cooperation at this point and have to go through all this again tomorrow, and the day after ... and how ever many days after that until someone believed her.

 

‘I see,’ Tarja said, with the care of a physician coaxing information out of a lunatic. ‘And what exactly is this “magic word”, your highness?’

 

‘Sequel,’ Adrina said, savouring the power in the magical word. ‘We need to bring forth a sequel.’

 

* * * *

 

Afterword

 

This story is, in part, the result of countless emails asking me what happens to the characters in my books after they end, to which I always want to respond: when I know that, I’ll write the sequel. It’s also partly in response to a comment one of my daughters made about what the voices in my head are doing on a day to day basis ...

 

— Jennifer Fallon

 

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