《Marchlands》


 ? 1.01 – The Squire

    ?01 ¨CThe Squire?


    Ewan Hastings shuts his eyes tight, trying to push away the lingering shadows of dark dreams.


    When he opens them again, he¡¯s almost relieved to find himself still sat on a park bench in Rushcutters Bay. The glow of the sun warms his skin and the gentle scent of petrichor carries on the breeze. It¡¯s a space he comes to often, a small hermitage away from the bustle of Australia¡¯s largest city. Cool, salty winds waft off the harbour, New Albion¡¯s famous Harbour Bridge visible across the water.


    Typically, the park was a break from the stress of university. Today, he sought refuge from the dreams that had caused him restless nights for weeks now. They weren¡¯t nightmares per se; if Ewan could bring himself to tell someone else, he¡¯d say they were what he imagined premonitions to feel like. He woke from them in a cold sweat and with a sense of purpose, the feeling that there was someone out in the world who desperately needed his help. The how and why alluded him, leaving him burdened by unease.


    Trying to stay in the moment, Ewan watches an exotic bird perched nearby, sketching it on a notebook propped up on his crossed legs. He has to back at university soon for Art History, but for the moment he¡¯s happy to feel alone. The shadows of the world have felt longer and deeper recently. His dreams should be hopeful, containing a knightly figure of white light, but it was hard to ignore that they made the darkness around them harsher.


    A voice cries out, panicking Ewan and sending the bird squawking into the air. Across the park, a mother is searching for her daughter, crying out her name. As Ewan looks around, he thinks he sees a small figure move between the reeds by the water¡¯s edge. Setting aside his things, he rushes over to save the girl from suddenly plunging from soft ground into deep water. He breaks through the reeds, and falls.


    The sensation of plummeting lasts somewhere between seconds and hours, until Ewan crashes hands first into a thick muck. It takes him a moment to remember how to breathe, shake away the disorientation blurring his vision. By the time he pulls himself upright, he can take in the thick mist and shallow wetlands that rolled out as far as he could see in every direction. A pale moon provides the only source of light. The city is gone, despite having once existed only steps away.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Ewan tries to rub the sight from his eyes, wake up from what was obviously a dream. He fails, and the surreal view establishes itself as reality. The moorland is familiar, and he wonders if it¡¯s because he¡¯s dreamt of it.


    A distant howl echoes across the moors, drawing his attention to the shadowed forms gathering on the horizon. Even through the thick mist, Ewan can tell they had blazing lights for eyes. He hesitates just a moment, then begins to run. His boots sink into mud and a heavy mist weighs down his light coat, but he pushes himself forward nonetheless. Each new howl sounds a little closer.


    I¡¯m going to die, he thinks, and I¡¯m not even going to know why.


    Trampling heather and wildflowers underfoot, Ewan is vaguely aware at the disquieting beauty this place would hold if he wasn¡¯t running for his life. No sign of humanity was in sight when he started sprinting, so Ewan is half-convinced he¡¯s hallucinating when he sees an unlit lamppost standing alone on the moor.


    Only crashing into it assures him it¡¯s real.


    The metal is cool, slick with dew, and Ewan uses the moment to catch his breath, breathing raggedly, acid draining the energy out of him. But he knows he can¡¯t stop here. Even with blood pounding in his ears, he can tell the howls are getting closer.


    I can¡¯t die here, he tells himself. I have something I need to do.


    What that something is exactly, Ewan¡¯s isn¡¯t quite sure. But if his dreams really have been preparing him for something, arriving in this otherworldly moor must have something to do with it. So he continues on, staggering ever forward until¡ª


    A dirt-covered hand shoots out of the thick undergrowth, grasping for and catching his leg as he crests a small hill. Ewan crashes forward, the thought idly crossing his mind that of course this godforsaken place has zombies too. The ground he hits is dry, stinging his hands as he throws them out to break his fall. He kicks out, struggling out of the hand¡¯s grip, turning to strike the shambling corpses in its rotting jaw.


    He stops himself when he sees the bewildered face of a young woman, a finger raised to her lips in a silent plea for him to keep quiet. Her clothes look handmade, a tunic and moss-coloured pants, while strange medallions hang from her neck. Dyed blonde hair with black roots frames her face, cut just before the shoulder.


    ¡°Who¡ª¡± he begins, cut off when she reaches forward to force a hand over his mouth.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to have your soul torn from your body,¡± she whispers through gritted teeth, ¡°I suggest you keep your mouth shut.¡±


    ~***~

 ? 1.02 – The Witch

    ? 02 ¨C The Witch ?


    Meilin¡¯s cheer at seeing another human being is tempered only by the trouble he seems to have brought with him. She¡¯d heard him before she saw him, his frantic footsteps echoing across the moor with an accompaniment of howls. Now she held him down in a shallow hollow beneath a hill, hand over his mouth in a desperate plea to keep him from talking.


    Pulling the young man against the hard dirt of the hollow, she senses something approaching, coming to a stop just overhead. She can¡¯t see the creature from down here, but it casts what could almost be a canine¡¯s shadow, if not for how innately wrong it looked, limbs ill-proportioned and crooked. Meilin had never seen a barrow geist in person for the same reason most people hadn¡¯t¡ªshe was still alive.


    Heavy, thick breathing above them fills the air with the fetid stench of the dead. Meilin feels the man trying not to gag, struggling to breathe normally beneath her hand, but she doesn¡¯t dare make the movement to let go.


    A low, guttural sound, like a shifting in the bowels of the earth, echoes across the moors. In response, the shadow pulls back from above them, the sounds and stench of the creature dissipating into the mist. Meilin silently counts to thirty, eyes scrunched shut, listening for any more sounds. Nothing reaches her ears, so she finally releases her grip.


    The stranger splutters, breathing in laboured pants he struggles to keep as quiet as possible.


    ¡°You need better friends,¡± she tells the young man.


    He looks up at her, panic and bewilderment alight in his blue eyes. He¡¯d probably clean up to be handsome, she guesses, though it¡¯s hard to tell through the sweat, dirt, and muck.


    After a second he seems to finally register what she said and barks a laugh. ¡°No shit.¡±


    Meilin frowns, considers her foundling¡¯s strange clothes.


    ¡°You¡¯re from New Albion,¡± she tells him.


    ¡°You¡¯re not?¡±


    She shakes her head.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s good.¡± He gives her an awkward, slightly manic smile. Given the preceding events, she doesn¡¯t hold it against him.


    ¡°Really?¡± Meilin tilts her head.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± The stranger finally catches his breath. ¡°It means you can tell me what on Earth is going on.¡±


    ¡°Not Earth,¡± she corrects him.


    He blinks. ¡°This isn¡¯t Earth?¡±


    ¡°Of course not.¡± Mother had warned her offcomers tended to be a little slow. ¡°You¡¯re in the Marchlands.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s not on Earth?¡±


    She resists the urge to roll her eyes. ¡°Obviously.¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± he echoes, leaning back to look up at the purple swirl of sky. ¡°Cool.¡±


    ¡°It is a little chilly,¡± Meilin agrees, pulling her shawl a little tighter.


    He laughs, looks back down at her again, offers a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Ewan, by the way.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    She shakes it. ¡°Meilin.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for saving me from¡­?¡±


    ¡°Barrow geists,¡± she finishes for him. ¡°They¡¯ve been unusually active as of late. But you¡¯re welcome. I¡¯m glad they didn¡¯t rip your soul from your body.¡±


    Ewan frowns. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, me too.¡±


    Certain enough time has passed, Meilin rises to her feet, dusts the dirt from her moss-coloured pants. She picks up the bundle of bell-shaped flowers she¡¯d hastily dropped when Ewan arrived, then offers her other hand to him.


    He smiles and lets her help him to his feet.


    ¡°You, ah, wouldn¡¯t happen to know the way back to Earth, would you?¡± he asks sheepishly.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    How did he get here if he doesn¡¯t even know the rules? Doesn¡¯t Earth have a Hero to stop their kind winding up here accidentally?


    Meilin considers her phrasing carefully, not wanting to play with him how a cat plays with a butterfly. ¡°I can¡¯t help you with that personally; it¡¯s forbidden. But! I know someone who does¡ªa wise woman.¡±


    ¡°Can you take me to them?¡± he asks. ¡°If it¡¯s, ah, not too much trouble.¡±


    She smiles. Her mother had always said offcomers were impolite; Meilin counts her blessings the first one she¡¯d encountered seems to be the exception.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading in that direction anyway.¡± She hefts the bell-shaped flowers. ¡°Got a delivery to make.¡±


    Assured the coast is clear, the two set back out onto the moors again. Meilin leads, a step ahead of Ewan, weaving so they stay on firm ground; she didn¡¯t want them surviving the barrow geists only to fall into a peat bog As they walk she can see Ewan¡¯s eyes darting from side-to-side, but after five or so minutes he seems to loosen up enough to broach a quiet conversation.


    ¡°That¡¯s not foxglove, is it?¡± he asks, his eyes tracking across the flowers.


    ¡°Good guess, but no.¡± Meilin laughs. ¡°This is knitbone. They do look dangerously similar.¡±


    ¡°When you say knitbone, do you mean comfrey?¡± he clarifies, then adds, ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s what we call it on Earth.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Do most men on Earth know so much about herbs and plants?¡±


    Ewan shakes his head. ¡°Nah. My Mum¡¯s a florist¡ªshe sells flowers, I mean.¡±


    He¡¯s the son of a wise woman? Is that normal on Earth?


    ¡°Most Marchlanders can¡¯t spot the difference between toxic foxglove and medicinal knitbone,¡± she tells him, ¡°And those that do are usually smart enough not to come out here to collect it.¡±


    ¡°Are you calling yourself thick?¡± Ewan teases.


    ¡°Reckless, perhaps.¡± Meilin grins, nudges him with her elbow. ¡°Luckily for you.¡±


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s funny¡­¡± Ewan scratches the side of his head. ¡°I almost feel like I¡¯ve been here before, in a dream.¡±


    ¡°Was I in your dream?¡± Meilin asks, giving him a cheeky grin.


    He returns it, though his is tinged with rue. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that nice a dream¡ª¡±


    A sound akin to rolling thunder reaches them from somewhere across the moor. Lights appear in the distance, and Meilin has to grab Ewan¡¯s arm to stop him from starting.


    ¡°It¡¯s not barrow geists,¡± she whispers. ¡°They¡¯re carrying torches.¡±


    Not that something intelligent enough to carry fire wouldn¡¯t still be dangerous. Meilin feels for the knife hidden beneath her tunic. Who would be out here? Some fools, perhaps, or brigands?


    Her eyes take in their surroundings, but the undergrowth here is too low, not tall or thick enough to hide them. Instead, she pushes Ewan properly behind her again, stands straight-backed against the oncoming storm of hooves.


    Mother always said the greatest tool of the cunning folk isn¡¯t magic, but their tongue. Meilin repeats the lesson reassure herself, trying to ignore the fact that in the end, she¡¯d failed her trials.


    Men and women on horseback close in, keeping two abreast to stay on the hard ground. They¡¯re dressed in light armour, any sign of allegiance hidden beneath thick cloaks. The group comes to a stop no more than ten feet away, though one rider¡ªhis black stallion clearly a breed above the rest¡ªcomes closer. As he does, his mount rears up, thick hooves threatening a power that could crush even a barrow geist¡¯s skull.


    Meilin keeps her composure, and the horse settles down, snorting hot breath into the frost-bitten air. The rider pulls back his hood to reveal a gaunt face with grey-streaked black hair. He leans casually on his thick sword, though he doesn¡¯t pull it from its scabbard.


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± the rider says, lips pulling into a rictus grin. ¡°What do we have here?¡±


    ~***~

 ? 1.03 – The Guide

    ? 03 ¨CThe Guide ?


    EARTH. UNIVERSITY OF NEW ALBION.


    A world away, June Winters watches the Chosen One enter her office. She wants nothing more than to throw the girl out, pretend she can go back to a normal life. Instead, she forces herself to merely look up from her laptop and peer at the Hero over her glasses.


    June can tell on most days the girl is a force of nature, her hair a swirling thunder cloud framing a face with tan skin but dark brown freckles. She¡¯s confident, rocking what would have been called Grunge back in the day, but the straightness in her back betrays a tightness too. There¡¯s a flash of youth to her hazel eyes still, even if it¡¯s hidden behind dark lashes.


    Only nineteen, June thinks. Bloody hell.


    The girl clears her throat.


    ¡°Hi,¡± she begins, uncertainty written plain across her face.


    June opens her mind¡¯s eye, sees the blazing crown atop the girl¡¯s head she knew would be there.


    ¡°Can I help you, Miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°Kyra,¡± answers the girl. ¡°Kyra Iravani.¡±


    She¡¯s frowning slightly, unwilling to broach the question she¡¯s come here to ask¡ªpresumably afraid June will tell her she¡¯s just going crazy. Understandably, given the only other explanation for what she¡¯s going through is magic.


    Maybe I could play dumb, June considers, though she immediately scoffs at the cruelty of such a decision.


    ¡°I can tell you came here for a reason.¡± June leans back in her chair, knits her hands together in her lap. She softens her tone before she continues: ¡°Just tell me. Get it over and done with.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Kyra swallows, forcing steel into her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve been having dreams.¡±


    ¡°Strange dreams?¡± June asks, though she already knows the answer. That¡¯s how it always starts.


    ¡°Ones where I was visited by spirits who told me there were other worlds.¡± A pause, a chance for June to look concerned, or laugh in her face. When she does neither, Kyra continues, ¡°They told me destiny had chosen me to protect this city, our world, from monsters and magic. That I have a power inside me which means I have to be the one to do it.¡±


    ¡°And in your dreams,¡± June says, ¡°Those spirits called the space between worlds the Marchlands.¡±


    Kyra¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°So, it¡¯s true? I¡¯m not going crazy¡ªthis is all real?¡±


    June catches sight of herself reflected in the glass of her framed Masters on the wall. She¡¯s still only in her late twenties, but dark shadows cut her face under her eyes, her flowing red hair unloved for so long it¡¯s become a mop of tangled curls. Even her skin seems paler, more sallow, though the cold light of her office does her no favours.


    In the moment before she answers, June indulges every selfish thought that flows through her.


    I could tell her she¡¯s been misled. Send her away, dissuade her that any of this is her responsibility, lie about how godforsaken blood pacts and ancient contracts expect her to fight until she dies.


    But she knows she can¡¯t.


    For a time it might protect both of them. But fate is all thorns and coils. In the end, all that would do is cast the poor girl out to the wolves, set her on the path to an even early grave than she¡¯s already marked for. She¡¯s the Hero, and every Hero needs a Guide. It was an inevitability that had kept her up at night for weeks, ever since she had been informed herself. At least the foxes had respected her enough to tell her in person, rather than pour dreams into her mind as she slept.


    ¡°It¡¯s true; all of it,¡± June manages, smiling sadly. ¡°You¡¯re the Hero.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ you¡¯re the Guide?¡± she asks in return.


    June can feel the Marchland magic wrapping around her, biting into her skin with invisible thorns.


    Bloody foxes probably had this planned from the start, she thinks. Since the very beginning.


    ¡°Yes.¡± The thorns dig deeper.


    ¡°I dreamt about you. The spirits told me to find you.¡±


    ¡°Did they say why?¡±


    Emboldened with the realisation she can finally talk about this with another human being, Kyra crosses the small office to lean against the chair opposite June¡¯s desk.


    ¡°They said you¡¯d mentor me. Teach me to fight, about magic and the Marchlands.¡±


    There¡¯s no turning back, but June still hesitates. Only for a moment, but she can tell Kyra senses it by the slight shake of her hands, the way she bites her lip.


    ¡°That¡¯s the Guide¡¯s role.¡±


    ¡°So, you will? You¡¯ll help me?¡±


    The relief on her face breaks June¡¯s heart.


    ¡°I will,¡± she replies. ¡°But first things first.¡±


    June stands, sweeping her thick cardigan around her shoulders like it¡¯s a wise woman¡¯s cloak. ¡°We need to find you a Squire.¡±


    ~***~

 ? 1.04 – The Hero

    ? 04 ¨C The Hero ?


    EARTH. NEW ALBION.


    ¡°The barrow geists are hunting prey,¡± the fox says to Kyra Iravani, leaping up to perch atop the stonework wall.


    Kyra cries out in surprise, and Ms Winters¡ªJune¡ªlooks towards her in alarm. They¡¯d walked from the university to a stretch of townhouse apartments nearby, where the older woman had spent the better part of five minutes futilely knocking on what was supposedly The Squire¡¯s apartment door. Kyra had stepped back into the street, looking for a neighbour to ask, when the fox had appeared.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t hurry to save him, you¡¯ll be without a Squire this cycle.¡± The animal¡¯s voice makes Kyra think of poison honey. ¡°Just fair warning.¡±


    Before June reaches them the fox drops off the wall and vanishes into the shadow of a storm drain. Kyra watches the dark void it disappeared into, struck dumb.


    ¡°You never seen a fox before?¡± June asks as she comes to a stop beside her.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Kyra bites her lip, honestly unsure if she¡¯s being asked a trick question. Apparently talking foxes were supposed to have been in the instruction manual, given how blas¨¦ her Guide seems to be about them.


    Not wanting to embarrass herself in front of a woman a decade older than her, Kyra composes herself and asks, ¡°That was a spirit, then?¡±


    ¡°Messengers for the Old Gods,¡± June answers, nodding. ¡°Said Gods are long gone, but everything they built has carried on in their absence. They were the ones bringing you your dreams.¡±


    Huh.


    She thinks back to how her window always seemed to be slightly ajar after her most vivid dreams, the ones where shades of young men and women told her she¡¯d been chosen as the Hero¡ªthey emphasised the capital. She would be the latest in a millennia-old line of Earth¡¯s guardians, the shades had said, destined to guard the Marchlands for as long as you live. Those without a Mantle such as yours can scarcely comprehend the danger to Earth, but being the Hero has made you among humanity¡¯s select few. A grave burden, but one only ever given to those who can handle it.


    Kyra prays that was the truth, and not an empty reassurance. She had no intention of turning this responsibility down.


    ¡°What did it say?¡± June asks, her voice shaking Kyra from her fugue.


    The woman is looking at her with concern, but at this point Kyra is uncertain whether that¡¯s just her default expression. She¡¯s not that old really, but thick shadows cling under her eyes, her hair a tangle of autumn red. She¡¯d be cute, maybe even a little alluring, in make-up, but she seems like someone without the time for such things. Perhaps she even considers them trivial. Kyra hopes she doesn¡¯t see a trivial, air-headed girl when she looks at her.


    ¡°Oh, um, it said something about barrow geists?¡± she replies. ¡°And we need to hurry and save the Squire?¡±


    The dark look that falls across June¡¯s face isn¡¯t exactly reassuring either. ¡°Ah, shit.¡±


    She hurries down the street with purpose, seemingly confident Kyra will know to tag along behind her.


    ¡°So, uh, what exactly is a barrow geist?¡± Kyra asks when she catches up.


    June lets out a long sigh. ¡°You¡¯re about to find out.¡±


    #


    A short while later June turns down a side-street into a tiny park and stops, standing beside an old-fashioned lamppost. Distinctly Victorian, its thick metal base is circled by the sculpted images of foxes.


    ¡°This is going to be rough,¡± June informs her.


    Kyra frowns. ¡°Are you going to open a magic portal?¡±


    ¡°Gracelessly,¡± June replies, gestures towards the lamp. ¡°Lampposts like these were built a long time ago to make it easier to find the common ground between worlds one needs to cross over. I¡¯m going to force it to spit us out at the one as close to the Squire as we can manage.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Kyra says uncertainly.


    ¡°But before we go,¡± June says, moving to stand beside the lamp, ¡°Ground rules. You drag the kid away from danger; I¡¯ll handle said danger.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t I supposed to be the Hero?¡± Kyra asks.


    ¡°Do you know how to fight, use a sword?¡± June asks. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t think so. I¡¯m not risking your life before I know you can handle yourself.¡±


    Kyra wants to argue, but she can see the logic.


    ¡°Besides,¡± June adds, ¡°I¡¯m just going to try to scare them off.¡±


    ¡°With what?¡±


    ¡°Blade. Flower. Ribbon. Bloom.¡± The words seem almost real, a physical force, and June unsheathes from them a sword fashioned from light.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Kyra repeats.


    June indulges her with a grin. ¡°We better hurry.¡±


    The woman closes her eyes, brow creasing in concentration. Then she speaks, though the words sound like they¡¯re coming from underwater:


    ¡°Raptor. Portal. Hunt. Squire.¡±


    Kyra feels a twisting in her gut, a sensation like falling. A wind picks up around them.


    ¡°Raptor. Portal. Hunt. Squire.¡±


    Head faint, Kyra is vaguely aware a fire has blossomed atop the lamppost. The world is spinning, bile rises in her throat.


    ¡°Raptor. Portal. Hunt. Squire¡ª¡±


    For a moment, Kyra can see nothing but darkness, hear nothing but the howl of a storm. Then she feels dirt and thick grass beneath her hands, taste a cold dew in the air. Opening her eyes, she realises she¡¯s on her hands and knees. Standing, she realises they¡¯re no longer in the city. In every direction spools grasslands and wetlands, a thick fog obscuring the horizon.


    June is next to her, pale and gripping a solitary lamppost for support.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Kyra breathes. ¡°We¡¯re not on Earth, are we?¡±


    June shakes her head. ¡°Not anymore.¡±


    Shouts catch their attention, flickering lights they can see through the cloud surrounding them. Kyra notes too that the undergrowth leading towards both seems to have been trampled by sneakers. June grips her sword tighter, and the two hurry towards the lights. It doesn¡¯t take long for them to crest and descend a small hill, closing enough distance for the source of the light to come into view.


    Strange men and women on horseback emerge out of the fog, standing opposite a boy and girl, likely Kyra¡¯s own age. The girl¡¯s dress is archaic like the riders, but the boy has on jeans and a mud-splattered shirt.


    He¡¯s definitely from Earth, Kyra thinks. The Squire?


    A man with a face seemingly chiselled out of some hellish crag leans down towards them, hand on his sword hilt. His eyes narrow, and the girl pushes the boy further behind her, hand moving towards her tunic like she¡¯s reaching for a weapon, and¡ª


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    Kyra realises she¡¯s yelled out when she hears the words like everyone else. She freezes. June freezes. The man, the two others, all turn towards them.


    ¡°As I live and breathe.¡± The man smiles, a deeply unpleasant thing. ¡°Lady Winters. I never thought I¡¯d see you again.¡±


    Still holding the sword of light, June closes the distance so she¡¯s standing between the group and the rider.


    ¡°Vedmak,¡± June replies curtly. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Patrolling the border on behalf of my liege,¡± he says, ¡°Given your kind seems to have been shirking that duty of late. Could the Fates really not find one person of age worthy for five years in your metal warren of a city?¡±


    Kyra comes close enough to stand beside the pair, whispering, ¡°We¡¯re here to help.¡±


    The young man appears relieved, though the girl still seems uncertain, eyes flicking between her, June, and the riders.


    ¡°Well, your services are no longer required here,¡± June says. ¡°We have a new Hero now.¡±


    ¡°And a new Guide too,¡± he muses. ¡°Congratulations.¡±


    Neither he or June seem to consider that a compliment.


    Vedmak nudges his horse forward, its bulk forcing June to step aside so now he and Kyra are facing one another.


    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,¡± he says, tilting forward in a small bow.


    Kyra frowns, unsure if the man is mocking her.


    ¡°Sorry, you are¡­?¡±


    ¡°Sir Vedmak, sworn knight to the Marcher Lord of Marigolds, Marquise Telwyn: Protector of the Glainmoor, Steward of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Marquise Telwyn?¡± June interrupts. ¡°What happened to¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Death comes to us all, Lady Winters, as you well know. It was peaceful though, all things considered. The Marquis went suddenly in his sleep, may the winds guide him.¡±


    June makes a gesture reminiscent of the sign of the cross. ¡°May the west wind guide him home.¡±


    At the words, Kyra notices the first true sign of sincerity in the man¡¯s smile¡ªas fleeting as it is.


    ¡°And these are¡­?¡± he gestures at the other two.


    ¡°Under our protection,¡± Kyra says, straightening her back.


    ¡°I see.¡± Vedmak pauses for a moment, seemingly in thought, before taking his reigns in his hands. ¡°Then I must be going. My liege will no doubt want to know the Hero has taken her first steps in the Marchlands.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± June replies, her expression inscrutable.


    ¡°I wish you all more luck than your predecessors,¡± he says, flashing that sickening grin again. He turns specifically to Kyra now, bowing his head slightly. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll see each other again soon.¡±


    At that, Vedmak pulls at his horse¡¯s reins, the beast rearing up before turning to face the waiting cohort. He gives a signal, and they retreat into the mist.


    ~***~

 ? 1.05 – The Squire

    ? 05 ¨CThe Squire ?


    MARCHLANDS. THE GLAINMOOR.


    Everything seems to be happening so fast that Ewan feels he doesn¡¯t have time to breathe.


    Nonetheless, he manages: ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The strange men and women¡ªknights?¡ªhave disappeared back into the mist, soon even their torches no longer visible through the grey haze that blankets everything here. The two newcomers¡ªclearly from Earth¡ªseem to have settled into relief after arriving in a panic.


    ¡°We were here to save you from barrow geists,¡± the younger of the two explains. About his age and clearly the coolest (or at least most confident) person here, she says the words with a little hesitance. Ewan guesses she¡¯s new to this too.


    The older woman, however, is obviously old-hat at this fantasy nonsense, eyes full of both weariness and concern. ¡°Seems like someone already took care of that though.¡±


    She lets her glowing sword evaporate into motes of light.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Meilin replies, causing Ewan to glance towards her in concern. She seems far less relieved than he is.


    Not wanting any more confrontations, he speaks up: ¡°I¡¯m Ewan, by the way. And this is Meilin.¡±


    The two women introduce themselves in return, June and Kyra, and confirm they came here in a hurry from New Albion. Apparently, they¡¯d been told he¡¯d fallen between worlds and rushed here to rescue him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a lot more to explain, but we should get back to Earth first¡ªor at the very least civilisation.¡± June scans the horizon. ¡°If this is the Glainmoor, then our best bet is to find a village, speak with one of the cunning folk.¡±


    ¡°Well¡ª¡±


    Meilin catches Ewan¡¯s wrist to stop him, her eyes alighting on the space where the older woman¡¯s sword had been. Was such magic fantastical even here, in another world? More questions he was desperate to have answered, though he chokes them all back down for now. He was under no illusion that getting out of here shouldn¡¯t be their first priority. There¡¯d be time to ask things like ¡°What the bloody hell is going on?¡± later, once there was a later.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we have a choice but to trust them,¡± he says in a low voice; failing to add how chuffed he is that Meilin clearly at least trusts him.


    ¡°We were already heading to my village,¡± Meilin says finally. ¡°You can speak with a wise woman there.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± June touches two fingers, her pointer and middle, to her lips. ¡°Is your village bannered?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Meilin¡¯s voice cracks like ice. ¡°It¡¯s free-land.¡±


    June nods, obviously deciding to defuse any tension by ignoring it. ¡°That¡¯ll make things easier. We¡¯ve had enough drama for one day.¡±


    ¡°And here I was thinking things were just getting interesting,¡± Kyra says, giving an exaggerated grin. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Meilin frowns, but says nothing more than, ¡°Come on then; it¡¯s this way.¡±


    As they set off, a golden glow is creeping into the edges of the night sky, the mist still present but lightening a little with the coming day. Small flowers, every shade of purple, are opening their bulbs from the day. The moor is undeniably beautiful, even if it is apparently infested with peat bogs and ravenous monsters.


    By the time they have trudged long enough for Meilin¡¯s home to come into view, they¡¯ve been graced too with the pale light of day. From this distance, Ewan can see the village as an island rising out of the mist. Built onto and on the sides of a plateau, its buildings are sophisticated but clearly pre-modern. A well-kept winding path leads up to an entrance marked by a large arched gate, one fashioned from dark wood and composed of two columns and an elaborate cross-piece.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realise there was a village out this far into the Glainmoor,¡± June comments.


    ¡°W¨´d?o Village was one of the furthest way stations of the Ti¨¡nl¨®ng,¡± Meilin replies. ¡°Back in the day.¡±


    As they draw closer, Ewan notices the structures and buildings seem reminiscent of millennia-old Chinese architecture, aged designs almost but not quite the same as the ones he¡¯d seen in the world encyclopaedias he¡¯d devoured as a kid. Were these people the descendants of ancient human settlers, or do other worlds have an Asia as well?


    Ewan sighs. More questions. At this rate, I¡¯m not going to have enough time to ask them all.


    As they near W¨´d?o¡¯s gate, their party is stopped by a man¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Well, well, well. Look what the cat¡¯s dragged in.¡±


    Glancing left, Ewan identifies the voice¡¯s owner is a bored young man leaning against one of the gate¡¯s columns. Seemingly on watch, he¡¯s of the same ethnicity of Meilin, with black hair and deep brown eyes. Handsome in the same way she¡¯s a natural beauty, but the kind of handsome that¡¯s tempered by an obvious arrogance.


    ¡°Lei.¡± Meilin does not say the name with kindness.


    He raises an eyebrow at the group. ¡°How did you manage to find this many strays on a simple trip?¡±


    ¡°She saved his life from barrow geists,¡± Kyra interjects, gesturing at Ewan. ¡°She¡¯s a hero.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± He turns. ¡°And you are¡­?¡±


    ¡°The Hero,¡± Kyra presses.


    Alarm flickers into his eyes as he glances between each of them. He seems stuck for a reply, something which can¡¯t be too common an occurrence.


    Ewan isn¡¯t sure if Meilin appreciates the support or not, but she only says, ¡°I¡¯m taking them to see Mother.¡±


    ¡°Go on then.¡± Still bewildered, Lei motions them further into the village.


    Meilin leads on, and they walk up a slight incline through the village streets towards its centre. Villagers stop as they pass to stare and whisper amongst themselves, a buzz following them that feels like it¡¯s growing greater as they continue. Given a few appear European, Ewan guesses their clothes are what¡¯s attracting the attention, what betrays them as foreigners from Earth.


    At the highest point of the plateau is a shrine-like building, constructed to have a public entrance with two open doors.


    ¡°You should wait here,¡± Meilin says, then disappears into the shadowed entrance of the shrine.


    So her mother and the wise woman are one and the same? Ewan frowns. She hadn¡¯t mentioned that.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t trust us,¡± Kyra says quietly when Meilin has disappeared.


    ¡°Marchlanders tend to have mixed feelings on people from Earth,¡± June says, shrugging. ¡°It¡¯s only natural. We are from another world after all, and rarely show up when there isn¡¯t trouble.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense I guess,¡± Kyra replies. ¡°I suppose if I had guests that only rocked up with bad news, I wouldn¡¯t be super-thrilled to see them either.¡±


    June laughs. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. And if you save enough people, they¡¯ll appreciate having you around regardless.¡±


    ¡°Duly noted.¡±


    While they talk, Ewan stands to the side, lost in thought.


    ¡®The Hero¡¯, June had called Kyra. Was she the person his dreams wanted him to find, who he was supposed to help? He thinks back to being chased by barrow geists and imagines a life where that might be a daily occurrence. That¡¯d be a yikes from me.


    Meilin reappears at the shrine entrance, interrupting his introspection.


    ¡°You can come in,¡± she tells them. ¡°My Mother will see you now.¡±


    ~***~

 ? 1.06 – The Hero

    ? 06 ¨CThe Hero ?


    MARCHLANDS. W¨´D?O VILLAGE.


    Kyra lets June ascend the stone staircase into the shrine first, following a few steps behind her. Ewan trails in last, Meilin moving to stand beside him. She¡¯s glad at least one of them puts her at ease. It¡¯s a position Kyra can sympathise with wanting, given none of this is putting her at ease.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong, Kyra tells herself, I¡¯m glad I¡¯m not crazy. But if I had to not be crazy, I¡¯d rather not have been thrown in the deep end like this.


    The inside of the shrine glows a golden brown, the soft light coming in through opaque glass windows giving it a quiet sense of wonder. Kyra had never been particularly religious¡ªher grandparents had been forced to move to New Albion decades ago because of it¡ªbut even she appreciates the quiet awe the shrine had obviously been designed to evoke.


    A statue of an Asian-style dragon fashioned from black jade is housed in a cabinet at the centre of the shrine, three slit windows placed at angles seemingly so at every time of day it glows with a dark purple light. The dragon¡¯s serpentine body twists through the air, fierce wisdom in its carved eyes, a perfect pearl clutched between four-fingered claws. Incense fills the room with a soothing aroma, burning at the dragon¡¯s feet.


    A woman in her forties or fifties¡ªMeilin¡¯s mother, Kyra guesses¡ªwaits for them beside the statue. Dressed in flowing amber robes and a black shawl, her face is unreadable. There¡¯s something wrong with her eyes too, flecks of gold amidst their dark colour.


    June bows, and after a quick exchange of looks, Kyra and Ewan do the same. The woman bows in return, though hers is slighter.


    ¡°It has been a long time since I have been in the presence of one Titled, let alone three.¡± The woman glances at Meilin, who closes the shrine doors behind them.


    ¡°Thank you for taking an audience with us, Teacher,¡± June says. ¡°My name is June Winters, and these are my charges, Kyra and Ewan.¡±


    Kyra stifles a quiet laugh at being called someone¡¯s ¡®charge¡¯.


    ¡°The Hero and The Squire,¡± the woman muses. ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Winters. My name is Lin, Wise Woman of W¨´d?o. Do you come upon me as a courtesy, or in petition?¡±


    ¡°Ah, we came to the Marchlands in a hurry, to rescue Ewan here.¡± June gesture at the young man, who grins sheepishly. ¡°He arrived rather unintentionally.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Lin turns to regard Ewan. ¡°You¡¯re the boy my daughter found?¡±


    He nods. ¡°Uh, yes ma¡¯am. Your daughter saved me from barrow geists.¡±


    ¡°That was brave, if foolish, of her.¡±


    Ewan doesn¡¯t seem to have a response, so June continues, ¡°We are seeking passage back to our world. We were hoping you could direct us to the nearest gateway.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lin says, turning back to June. ¡°Though I would ask something in return.¡±


    Kyra notices June¡¯s mouth tighten. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I would speak with you and the Hero alone then, if you do not mind.¡±


    June and Kyra exchange a look, then turn to Ewan, who looks back uncertainly. ¡°Ah, yeah, I can leave you guys to it. I¡¯ll wait outside with Meilin?¡±


    Meilin herself frowns, but doesn¡¯t fight her mother on it. Instead, she opens the shrine doors for Ewan and follows him out. Silence lingers for a long moment in the absence. A small ember at the point of the incense glows in the shadow, filling the room with a layer of smoke that makes Kyra feel as if she never left the misty moors behind.


    Finally, Lin asks: ¡°How long have you been the Hero, child?¡±


    Child? Kyra looks to June for guidance, but she just inclines her head slightly. ¡°Ah, unofficially? Couple of weeks. Officially, like, less than a day. This is all pretty new, to be honest.¡±


    The old woman makes a silent motion that could be a laugh, then answers, ¡°I appreciate your honesty. It would do this world and yours little good for you to be otherwise.¡±


    Kyra nods uncertainly, wondering if she just passed some sort of test.


    Lin regards her for a long moment, smoke from the incense almost seeming to wrap around her, before she continues: ¡°Nonetheless, despite your inexperience, I would beseech you to perform a Heroic duty.¡±


    ¡°On behalf of the cunning folk?¡± June interjects.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Lin confirms. ¡°We have been talking amongst ourselves for weeks now, and I believe your arrival is no coincidence. Do you know how long it has been since barrow geists roamed the Glainmoor?¡±


    Kyra shakes her head.


    ¡°Five years,¡± the woman answers. ¡°Something has to have woken them. A cynic would blame you, my dear, but I suspect the opposite is true.¡±


    ¡°Kyra isn¡¯t ready to fight a barrow geist; you should see that,¡± June says, then adds, ¡°Teacher.¡±


    ¡°It is not the barrow geists themselves I wish for her to deal with. The task would be to uncover what¡ªor who¡ªwoke them.¡± Lin folds her hands together. ¡°After that, have the Marcher Lord of Marigolds deal with them, send a sortie of knights perhaps. I¡¯ve heard the two of you have a history.¡±


    ¡°Once,¡± June replies listlessly.


    ¡°Regardless, that is the task I would ask of you. In exchange for your pledge, I will shelter you until tomorrow, then help you return home. I will even offer my daughter¡¯s service to guide you.¡± Lin offers a hand, a black dragon wrapped around her ring finger. ¡°Do we have an agreement?¡±


    Kyra looks from Lin to June. ¡°Should I?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s up to you, Kyra. I¡¯m only your Guide.¡± She sighs, takes Kyra aside. ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to be put in this sort of position so soon. But this is the sort of thing people will expect of you, as the Hero. This and far worse.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s why I was chosen right? Because someone has to.¡±


    June gives her a small smile. ¡°Destiny might think otherwise, but in my mind, there¡¯s always a choice.¡±


    Behind the weariness and the cynicism, there¡¯s a real sincerity in June''s eyes that helps put Kyra at ease. As they stand there now, Kyra realises how grateful she is to have June there. It seems silly to feel that way about someone she¡¯d only just met, but the two had shared a day together unlike anything most people would or could experience. She thinks of Ewan, arriving here all alone, monsters nipping at his heels. This was all moving too fast, she knew that, but perhaps that¡¯s what made it so important to her needing someone to grab hold of.


    Kyra turns back to Lin. ¡°Then I¡¯ll do it. Especially if it means we can stop anyone being hurt by these monsters. I was willing to rush here to save Ewan, right? I can¡¯t brush my hands of it now.¡±


    Lin¡¯s lips quirk into a smile and they shake hands, a sensation chilling Kyra¡¯s spine like a biting wind. She tastes copper on her tongue.


    ¡°By the Charter, see that our agreement is sealed.¡±


    ~***~

 ? 1.07 – The Squire

    ? 07 ¨C The Squire ?


    MARCHLANDS. W¨´D?O VILLAGE.


    As Ewan and Meilin sit atop the shrine steps, they can see the village sprawl out before them, its road winding like a serpent all the way down the plateau and into the fields of wildflowers and thick grass that cover the moorlands. Here above it all, Ewan feels like he''s atop a cloud, the mist a rolling blanket that could conceivably encompass this entire world, the distant horizon broken only by the shadowed hint of a great mountain range.


    The sun is weak, but the air has a crispness that''s fresh to the point of being overwhelming. The scents of life and cooking float up from the village too, the smell of cooked meat and spice riding the breeze, hundreds or perhaps even thousands of people beneath them living out their ordinary lives in an extraordinary world.


    For a long moment, Ewan can only drink in the sights, only eventually becoming aware that Meilin is watching him with a bemused expression on her face.


    "I''m sorry," he says, "I didn''t mean to space out. The view is just really beautiful."


    "You don''t have sights like this on your world?" she asks.


    ¡°Not where I''m from. My day is just city in every direction."


    Meilin considers that, replying, "I''m sure I''d feel the same though, to stare down on your world."


    "Perhaps one day I could show you?" Ewan ventures.


    She laughs. "That''s sweet of you. But it would be a long journey to make just for sightseeing. Besides... I have duties here."


    Her eyes drift back up the shrine steps.


    ¡°Tough mum, huh?¡±


    "She has a lot of responsibility on her shoulders," Meilin replies diplomatically. ¡°It means she has little time for children. You would understand I¡¯m sure, having a wise woman as a mother yourself.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Ewan hesitates, decides to shift the subject slightly. "No father?"


    Meilin shakes her head. "He died when I was a child."


    "I''m sorry," Ewan replies. "I didn''t grow up with a dad either."


    "Another thing we have in common then." Meilin gives him a reassuring smile. "And it''s okay. It was a long time ago, and I never met him. All I have to prove he existed at all is a photograph. And myself, I suppose."


    "You have photos here?" Ewan asks, a little surprised.


    "They''re not common, but yes. Finding an alchemist to develop the film is the tricky part¡ª"


    The doors behind them click open, June and Kyra descending the steps of the shrine. Ewan and Meilin stand to greet them.


    "How''d it go?" Ewan asks.


    "Meilin''s mother is going to help us reach the nearest gateway," June says, "In exchange for looking into who or what woke up the barrow geists."


    "We''re leaving now?"


    "Tomorrow morning. I¡¯d rather not be travelling when night falls, and Lin offered us her hospitality until we leave."


    "Did she say how she was going to help you, exactly?" Meilin asks.


    "Ah, she offered your services as a guide," June answers apologetically. "You don''t have to though, we can find some other way if need be."


    Meilin sighs, but replies, "I''ll take you."


    "Thank you," Kyra says, offering a small smile. "We really do appreciate it."


    "That''s why I''m helping you." Meilin glances up towards the open doors. "Let me take you to the guest quarters. Then I''ll go speak with my Mother."


    #


    The three of their party from Earth sit in W¨´d?o¡¯s inn, a small building with guest rooms that back onto an even smaller garden, a bubbling pond and tiny birds adorning it. Kyra and Ewan have agreed to share the larger room and give June her own space, though they''re all together for now as they finish off the soup the innkeeper brought them. The sliding door to the outside is open, letting in the sounds of evening bird cries and running water.


    Enough time has passed for the blue sky to turn a brilliant swirl of scarlet and violet, but Meilin still hasn''t returned. Ewan is a little concerned but has resigned himself to not seeing her until the following morning.


    Dressed now in soft cotton robes, the three of them are quiet in a mutual appreciation of having washed the grit and dirt of the moors from their bodies.


    "I don''t think I''ve ever been so glad to have a bath," Ewan comments, stretching out on the canvas ground.


    "No kidding. But, ah..." Kyra bites her lip. "I think I lost my phone somewhere out on the moor."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Not quite," June says with a chuckle. "It disappeared when you came here, so you''ll get it back when you return."


    "You can''t bring phones here?" Ewan asks.


    "Most high-tech things, actually; so no laptops or assault rifles either. Anything that doesn''t have an equivalent in the Marchlands really. Not that the people here mind, of course; magic makes a lot of our technology redundant anyway."


    As if they were listening, the ghost lights trapped in lanterns that adorn the walls flicker, shifting the shadows the setting sun is casting across the room.


    ¡°Dumb question, numero dos then,¡± Kyra says, raising two fingers. ¡°Is everyone here speaking English, or is this some sort-of magic Star Trek universal translator situation?¡±


    June raises an eyebrow at the reference. ¡°The latter. The magic that affects people who pass over means the Marchland¡¯s lingua franca is translated into your own native tongue, and vice versa. If it doesn¡¯t translate something, it¡¯s because the name is a loanword from some other language, like Medrauti.¡±


    ¡±Huh." Ewan frowns. "And ''magic'' can just do all that?¡±


    "It''s an almost-intelligent force," June explains, "Bound into service a long time ago¡ªCharter magic, they call it. On Earth, we only have a little wild magic, enough for us to travel here and for magical creatures not to die if they pass over mostly.¡±


    "And we''re supposed to keep it that way?" Kyra interjects.


    June nods. "It was decided a long time ago that Earth and the Marchlands would remain separate. It doesn''t help that most monsters that make it to our side become cloaked in a glamour, concealed in such a way that makes ordinary people easy prey."


    Someone just... decided that magic would be hidden? When it can do all this?


    Ewan can scarcely believe it. How different would history be if not for that?


    "Who decided we should be separate?" he asks.


    "It''s a long story." June shifts on the spot. "I could only tell you what I was told¡ªno guarantees it¡¯s the full truth, or true at all."


    "Warning acknowledged," Kyra pushes, leaning forward. "Get on with it!"


    "As you wish, your majesty.¡± June rolls her eyes. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m about to tell you your spiritual ancestor was a King, so perhaps we should be calling you that."


    "Obviously," Kyra interjects with a cheeky grin, which June ignores.


    "In any case, what''s important to keep in mind is that the Marchlands isn''t exactly a distinct world like our own. It''s a nexus, the place where many different worlds intersect, letting someone move from one world to another. And while Earth''s access point to the Marchlands might be New Albion now, that''s only been the case for a couple of centuries.


    ¡°Millennia ago, Great Britain was actually where the wall between the Marchlands and Earth was thinnest. Back then, one could simply take the wrong turn in the wrong forest and slip between worlds. Magic and monsters roamed into our world freely, as well as armies from other worlds beyond the Marchlands. Legend would tell us they were all held back by an Earth army led by one man."


    "King Arthur," Ewan breathes.


    "Bingo," June answers. "He held back the wolves at the gate, and in the wreckage of those wars he entered into humanity''s original compact with the elemental forces¡ªGods, some call them¡ªthat governed the Marchlands. In return for tightening passage between worlds, he and his descendants would forever guard the border from threats to both Earth and the Marchlands. To assist him, the Gods granted him and his closest allies supernatural powers, and a kind of reincarnation, in exchange for such a deal to echo throughout time."


    "Wait," Kyra interrupts. "Are you trying to tell me I''m a reincarnation of King Arthur?"


    "Ah," June hesitates. "Good question. The time frame doesn''t make sense, given that the last Hero died five years ago. But the ancient sources call it reincarnation, so... Yeah."


    "Huh." Kyra leans back, clearly in thought.


    "So when Meilin''s mother called me the Squire...? " Ewan asks.


    "You''re Arthur''s best man, the one who''s supposed to help Kyra here fulfil her heroic duties. Not the capital-H Hero, but just as important."


    Ewan wonders if she''s trying not to hurt his feelings, putting it that way. Unsure how to ask that without sounding like a nob, however, he instead goes with, "Did you know the last Hero or Squire?"


    It''s a question he immediately regrets, as June takes a second too long to answer: "Yes."


    ¡°Can you tell us about them?" Kyra asks.


    "Another time, perhaps." June stands, smoothes out the creases of her robes. "We''ll have a long trek in the morning, so you two should get some sleep. You''re going to need it, especially when you wake up tomorrow and this isn''t a dream."


    ¡°Promise?¡± Kyra asks.


    June offers a rueful smile. ¡°This is all real. For better or worse.¡±


    They say their goodnights, and June disappears out to her own room, the sliding door slipping shut behind her.


    ¡°The last Hero and Squire must be a sore spot,¡± Ewan comments quietly.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± is Kyra¡¯s only reply.


    Out over the village, paper lanterns have floated into the sky, gentle amber stars against the night sky. The ghost lights on the wall begin to quiet, the flames inside their glass cages slowly going out. In minutes, the only light left is a soft glow from outside. A chill settles into the room, and Ewan pulls his blanket tighter around him. As much as his mind is still racing, his body is definitely ready for sleep.


    He glances over to Kyra, still watching the lanterns outside.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She turns towards him. ¡°It¡¯s just a lot, you know?¡±


    ¡°I would have liked to be eased a bit into this, yeah.¡± He shrugs uncertainly. ¡°But, at least we¡¯re in this together, right? Since I''m supposed to be the Lancelot to your King Arthur?"


    "Are you threatening to sleep with my wife?" Kyra asks, mock-accusatorially.


    "I wouldn''t dare!" Ewan raises his hands in submission. "Scout''s honour!"


    They both laugh, a gentle chiming that echoes out into the night.


    ¡°This shit is pretty crazy, aye?" Kyra says.


    "Well, I definitely didn''t expect to be chased by monsters when I got dressed this morning," Ewan replies, leaning back and raking a hand through his hair. "But it was more exciting than my Art History class would have been, so I suppose I can''t complain."


    Kyra laughs again. "That''s one way to look at it."


    "If it helps, I''ve read a lot of Fantasy books over the years, so I''m feeling pretty prepared."


    ¡°What a relief,¡± Kyra teases. ¡°I¡¯ve watched five seasons of Merlin and all of Supernatural; does that count?¡±


    ¡°Well, it at least means the universe probably made you the Hero ''cause you clearly had too much time on your hands.¡±


    Laughing, Ewan narrowly dodges the wooden cup aimed at his head.


    ~***~

 ? 1.08 – The Witch

    ? 08 ¨C The Witch ?


    MARCHLANDS. W¨´D?O VILLAGE.


    Leaving the offcomers at a W¨´d?o guest house, Meilin takes a short diversion that is not at all a way of procrastinating talking with her mother.


    Heading sideways across the village, the smell of open-air cooking only grows stronger as she steps into a market street. Dodging crackling flames and afternoon crowds, she¡¯s still slowed by having to give respectful nods to the elderly men and women who stop her to say hello. Eventually, she reaches Shuang¡¯s market stall, laden with fruit and other exotics he imports from fields and orchids from the Marches to the south.


    Shuang himself is a well-built man, at least a decade older than Meilin and seemingly perpetually tanned from a job that keeps him outside whenever he¡¯s not asleep.


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± he says. ¡°Someone¡¯s been the talk of the town.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, don¡¯t start,¡± she says, and he laughs the deep laugh she¡¯ll always associate with him.


    ¡°Gotta keep my ear to the ground, ¡®lil sis. You don¡¯t tell me when you¡¯re in trouble.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not in trouble!¡±


    ¡°You fought off barrow geists to save some offcomers!¡± Shuang raises an eyebrow. ¡°What do you call that?¡±


    ¡°Fought off is¡ª¡± She shakes her head. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s not why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    Holding her empty hands out in front of her, Meilin makes a dramatic hand movement before flicking her wrist and producing a beautiful white flower, streaked with pink¡ªHeart¡¯s Delight.


    Shuang laughs. ¡°You actually found one!¡±


    She grins. ¡°I¡¯m a little offended you apparently had so little faith in me.¡±


    ¡°Clearly I was mistaken!¡± He takes a small vase from under the stall, and Meilin slides the flower¡¯s stem into it. ¡°Thank you, Mi. I owe you one.¡±


    ¡°So now you have to invite me to the wedding, right?¡± she says.


    Shuang leans across the stall and hugs her. ¡°I never wouldn¡¯t have. But he has to say yes first! Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves.¡±


    Meilin grins again cheekily. ¡°Kenn would be crazy to say no.¡±


    They release their hug, and her eyes flicker up towards where the village crests. ¡°I better get going though. I need to speak with my Mother.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to keep her waiting then.¡± As she goes to leave, Shuang tosses her a red apple. ¡°Good luck! Backbone, remember?¡±


    She gives him a leery look, then weaves back between buildings until she finds the main path up to the village''s¡ªher mother''s¡ªshrine. It''s a nervous climb, despite her munching on the sweet apple, one that leaves Meilin alone too long with her thoughts.


    The first Hero in five years.


    She scarcely remembers what it was like the last time there was a Hero¡ªand now she had met three Titled in one day. One could say that this might all be the work of the Fortunes, some spirit or magic guiding her to them. Perhaps it had, if only to give her a small part to play in a grander tapestry. Now she¡¯d see them to the gateway at W¨´-Pailou, and that would be it. She¡¯d hear of their exploits perhaps, but life would go on.


    For the best too, she tells herself.


    No reliable story spoke favourably of involving oneself in the affairs of offcomers. Of course, she had read the pulps, the adventures scribes wrote of, but those were embellishments and fictions. This was reality.


    And as kind as Ewan seemed, and as genuine as the Hero hopefully was, Meilin had also seen the enchanted blade the Guide had wielded. Creating a blade had nothing to do with her Title, which means she must have summoned it with Charter magic. A boon perhaps, from a Marcher Lord? There was no answer that made her seem any more trustworthy. Meilin wonders if she''s being too harsh, but growing up in free-land had done little to endear her to those who claimed authority under the Charter¡ªor their agents.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Head down, Meilin is only jolted from her thoughts when she almost bumps into her half-brother as he stands outside the shrine, apparently waiting for her.


    "Mother wants to speak with you.¡±


    "I know, why do you think I''m here?"


    She snaps at him, even if she doesn¡¯t mean to. She doesn¡¯t like being on the outs with her brother. If only he¡¯d apologise first, she¡¯d be willing to apologise too.


    ¡°Listen, Mei¡­¡± His hands fumble with the hilt of his sheathed dao strapped to his side. ¡°You bringing them here¡­ Everything is going to be different now.¡±


    ¡°Are you blaming me for that?¡± she asks. ¡°For not buying W¨´d?o more time?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡­¡± He shakes his head. ¡°I better be off. We¡¯re sending up warning lights, letting the nearby villages know to be careful tonight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you get back to it, then.¡±


    Lei nods, and after a moment¡¯s hesitation, disappears back down the path. Meilin looks further up the path and steels herself for whatever¡¯s to come.


    The rich smells of the shrine, the burning incense, will always remind Meilin of home, of the thousand flames she lit in her youth as a shrine maiden. Back then, her mother was the centre of her world, and she truly believed in a benevolence behind her every action. Now, as her mother waits for her, the older woman¡¯s expression is inscrutable. Meilin had always thought that one day she¡¯d finally understand what her mother hid behind those eyes. These days, she had long given up any hope of that.


    ¡°Teacher.¡±


    Her mother accepts her gesture of respect. ¡°Please, speak your mind, Meilin.¡±


    ¡°You volunteered my services to guide them to the gateway in W¨´-Pailou.¡±


    She nods. ¡°Consider it a compliment towards your skill as a ranger.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think to ask first?" Meilin asks. ¡°I would have done it either way.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to save the second part of my instructions until we were alone.¡±


    Meilin crosses her arms. ¡°And what are those?¡±


    ¡°I wish for you to accompany the offcomers back to Earth, to live amongst them in New Albion. We¡¯re approaching a dangerous time, and it would be good for there to be Marchlanders in other worlds again.¡±


    Meilin blinks, unsure what to say. As she tries to wrap her mind around a response, the sun sets low enough to steal back its glow from the jade dragon at the shrine¡¯s centre.


    Finally, she manages: ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You understood what I said just fine, my dear.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I understood it; I just can¡¯t believe we¡¯re finally here. You finally found an excuse to get rid of me¡ªafter all those Lords turned down your petitions to take me off your hands.¡± Meilin¡¯s eyes are as hard as flint. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t know that you tried.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a banishment, Meilin,¡± her mother replies evenly. ¡°But I would consider it unwise for you to bring up your failures when you¡¯re trying to reason with me as to why you should stay.¡±


    ¡°My failures?¡± Meilin spits the words. ¡°Am I still that much of an embarrassment to you, for not following in your footsteps?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a failure, Meilin. Just a disappointment.¡±


    ¡°A disappointment?¡± she echoes back.


    She had dreamt of this fight, of the two of them finally speaking plainly, but now it was happening Meilin just feels sick in the pit of her stomach.


    ¡°It would have been one thing for you to have simply not been up to the task,¡± her mother returns quietly. ¡°But you chose not to succeed. You ran about the village and moors like you were some Sevari swashbuckler, you neglected your studies to chase the affections of young rakes, you use what little magic you do have on frivolities like dying your hair¡ª¡±


    ¡°You know why I dye my hair!¡± Meilin realises she¡¯s yelling and quietens.


    Her mother simply watches her, eyes lost in shadow except for a glint of gold.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never been able to stop treating me like I¡¯m a child.¡± Meilin stands. ¡°You can¡¯t order me about. You don¡¯t run this village, as much as people bow and scrape at your feet. I¡¯m not letting you exile me from my home, my world.¡±


    She¡¯s turning to leave when her mother finally replies. ¡°If you will not listen to me, then I shall be entering you into a wardship under Lady Winters.¡±


    Meilin is struck dumb. ¡°You¡ªyou can¡¯t do that! I¡¯m of age!¡±


    ¡°A parent can of any child below the age of twenty-one, with the explicit consent of a member of the cunning folk.¡± Her mother¡¯s eyes are hard. ¡°And I give my consent.¡±


    ¡°Mother, please¡ª¡± Meilin¡¯s world spins, her heart races. ¡°You can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°If only you were among the cunning folk yourself. Then I would have no power over you.¡±


    Meilin¡¯s mother had never hit her before, but she knew now what the sensation would feel like. She stares at the woman who raised her, hollow-eyed. Suddenly, she has no interest in staying.


    As she stalks out of the hut, she can¡¯t help but wonder if her mother hadn¡¯t chosen her words precisely to force this outcome. The greatest tool of the cunning folk isn¡¯t magic, but their tongue, her Mother had always said.


    And there was few of greater cunning than her.


    ~***~

 ? 1.09 – The Guide

    ? 09 ¨C The Guide ?


    MARCHLANDS. W¨´D?O VILLAGE.


    June wakes, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling of a foreign room. Turning on her side, she takes in the haunting nostalgia of her surroundings as she blinks away sleep.


    It wasn¡¯t a dream.


    She almost wants to laugh. It¡¯s the first night in a long time she hasn¡¯t woken to night terrors.


    The innkeeper has set her clean clothes and breakfast by the door, and June gets dressed with the dawn. It¡¯s dark out, but even years on her body can still sense the sun preparing to crest the horizon. The wind chills away the last of her sleep as sits in the open doorway to the garden, taking in the petrichor and fresh air as she eats a breakfast of rice porridge mixed with vegetables and herbs.


    No time like the present, June wakes the unenthusiastic duo next door, ignoring their cries of protest. Heading into the street, she receives directions on where to find Meilin from an early-rising street vendor preparing for the day ahead.


    Not connected to the shrine, June notes as she approaches Meilin¡¯s small abode, a kind of attic one can reach from the street. It was unusual for the cunning folk to have children, but she¡¯d assumed they¡¯d be afforded lodging with their parent. Perhaps Meilin just wanted the autonomy, something June couldn¡¯t begrudge anyone.


    The front door is open as June approaches, and she hovers on the threshold, waiting while the girl inside splashes water on her face.


    Meilin is dressed in a dark grey cardigan wrapped over a lighter grey tunic and loose cotton dress, cinched at the waist with a belt. Thick socks cover her legs, stuffed into practical leather boots, while a brass, compass-like pendant hangs from a chain around her neck. Practical, but still someone who cares about their appearance, June decides; though she could have guessed that from the dyed blonde hair, an oddity in this part of the Marches.


    ¡°Nice outfit,¡± ¡°Very soft goth.¡±


    Meilin looks up from the ceramic bowl, eyes uncomprehending, though they harden when she sees who¡¯s standing there. Despite what she¡¯s tried to hide with water, the redness betrays her.


    She¡¯s been crying, June realises. Shit.


    ¡°Ah, sorry, I just wanted to thank you,¡±¡°For what you did for Ewan. You saved his life.¡±


    ¡°Apologetically scraping won¡¯t make it any easier to forgive you,¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what I did.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me outside the shrine, rather than make me have to hear it from her?¡±


    ¡°Meilin, I honestly don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°My Mother is making me your ward. You¡¯re to take me with you, back to Earth.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    June blink. What?


    ¡°Huh. So you didn¡¯t know.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good at least, if very like Mother.¡±


    ¡°Meilin¡ªI¡ªI can¡¯t be your guardian. I already have Kyra and Ewan I need to look after.¡±


    She gives a short, mirthless laugh. want this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡ªI¡¯ll just not accept,¡±


    Meilin tightens her satchel strap and pushes past June, leaving the hut.


    June stays rooted to the spot, watching Meilin disappear into the distance behind a tangle of buildings. Petrichor fills the air, though now it just feels sharp and cutting.


    Bloody hell. She leans against the doorframe, eyes scrunched shut in frustration. I already have two kids to babysit, I can¡¯t¡­


    ¡°What was her mother thinking?¡±


    Cunning folk games, her mind answers. One more thing she hasn¡¯t missed the past five years.


    Glancing down towards the base of the village where Kyra and Ewan would no doubt be waiting to leave, June sighs. Looks like they¡¯ll have to wait a little longer.


    #


    The wise woman doesn¡¯t even turn from her position kneeling in front of the crystalline dragon, seeming to know instinctively who just pushed open the shrine door.


    ¡°Teacher,¡±  ¡°I think you can guess why I¡¯m here.¡±


    She lets the door click shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the dim light and smoke of the shrine. It¡¯s almost nostalgic here; the way all five dragon shrines seem to look the same across the Marchlands.


    Lin rises, robes sweeping as she turns to face June directly.


    June puts a hand to her hip, waiting for an answer she knows isn¡¯t coming. Given her obligation, the woman doesn¡¯t need to do any convincing, and thus she doesn¡¯t have to do any explaining either.


    ¡°From everything I¡¯ve heard, I believe I can trust you with my daughter¡¯s life, Lady Winters. I¡¯d hoped that would be enough to buy me a little leeway.¡±


    ¡°And what if I refuse?¡±


    ¡°We both know you won¡¯t,¡±  ¡°You wouldn¡¯t risk any harm to your reputation now. Not when you need it for people other than yourself.¡±


    Pinching the bridge of her nose, June screws her eyes shut, not minding that Lin sees her frustration. Bloody cunning folk.


    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t guarantee I can protect her,¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing this to protect her,¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she sees it that way. Hell, I¡¯m not even sure if I do, given you¡¯re putting her right next to the Hero.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll understand one day. You as well, I hope. I have seen many things to come in the cunning, and few bode well.¡±


    ¡°You know as well as I do that you can¡¯t use the cunning to see the future.¡±


    ¡°And who broke their vows to tell you that, I wonder?¡± ¡°No matter. You should know too then that I don¡¯t need magic to see your arrival here is a dark omen. Perhaps not ill tidings for today, or even tomorrow, but one day soon the Marchlands will look back fondly on yesterday.¡±


    ¡°And you want your daughter, what? Prepared?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave that to your discretion, as her guardian. But just keep this in mind, Lady Winters. Marchers these days whisper of no longer needing a Hero, for we have gone five years without one.¡± ¡°They have, of course, never stopped to consider that we have not needed a new Hero until now.¡±


    That, of course, was June¡¯s fear.


    ¡°You¡¯re not an optimist then, I¡¯m guessing.¡±


    Lin offers June a genuine smile, the naked emotion jarring on the wise woman¡¯s face.


    She turns back then, however, pulling into her role as she moves to return to her position in front of the dragon. June wonders if the smile had simply been to remind her that not only the Titled were bound by their position. Either way, the moment already feels long gone, and June turns to leave as well.


    ¡°You know a lot about Charter Law for one of the cunning folk.¡±


    ¡°We were both different people I think, Lady Winters,¡±  ¡°In another life.¡±


    ~***~

 ? 1.10 – The Hero

    ? 10 ¨C The Hero ?


    MARCHLANDS. W¨´D?O VILLAGE.


    June¡¯s arrival had woken Kyra from already fading dreams, nightmares of shadowed things backing her into a corner from which there would soon be no escape. Now, awake and dressed, she¡¯s taken the crimson flannel shirt she had tied around her waist and put it on, meagre protection against the morning chill as they wait for June to meet them at W¨´d?o¡¯s gate.


    ¡°Thank God I had a flannie,¡± ¡°It¡¯s not nearly this brisk back home.¡±


    Ewan nods, but his head is tilted up to examine the elaborate carving atop the dark wooden gate. It seems to depict a serpentine dragon, similar to the one in Meilin¡¯s mother¡¯s shrine.


    ¡°Do you think dragons are real here?¡± ¡°I¡¯d ask, but I dunno if that¡¯s like asking if someone¡¯s God is real back on Earth.¡±


    Kyra shrugs, but she¡¯s pretty sure Ewan is mostly talking to himself. Instead, she watches as Meilin descends the village path in a huff, the tightness in her face betraying an anger at something¡ªor someone. Given they hadn¡¯t seen her since she went to speak with her mother, Kyra guesses it¡¯s the latter.


    Kyra asks as she reaches them.


    ¡°My Mother¡¯s sending me to Earth with you,¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Kyra and Ewan exchange a concerned look, unsure of what to say.


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell her to fuck off?¡±


    Meilin obviously hasn¡¯t heard that slang before, but Kyra can tell she gets the gist.


    she replies, sighing.


    Kyra ventures, a little unsure.


    ¡°You probably shouldn¡¯t, but I appreciate the gesture.¡±


    In the lull that follows, Kyra checks the packed lunches the village had volunteered for their trip in the handmade satchel she now wears around her shoulder. She¡¯s not sure if the rest of the Marchlands is this generous, but she can¡¯t help but be touched by the gesture.


    ¡°So, how long should it take us to reach¡­?¡±


    ¡°W¨´-Pailou?¡±¡°No more than a day¡¯s walk, thankfully. We should get there by late afternoon if all goes well.¡±


    ¡°No horses, then?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s cute you think we can afford horses,¡± ¡°Raptors, maybe, but we¡¯d have had to purchase them in W¨´-Pailou first.¡±


    Ewan¡¯s eyes alight.


    June calls out with a mischievous quirk to her lips, descending the path to join them at the gate.


    Meilin raises an eyebrow but acquiesces. Ewan looks heartbroken.


    ¡°Anyway.¡±¡°I¡¯m sorry, Meilin. I spoke with your mother, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± . ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to be here with her right now anyway.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get going then.¡±


    Kyra takes one last look back up at W¨´d?o, memorising the sight as they start their descent back down into the moors.


    A village in another world. That¡¯s something you don¡¯t see every day.


    ¡°Hey! Meilin!¡±


    The party stops, and Kyra spots Meilin¡¯s brother hurrying to the gate. Their guide walks back up the path to meet him, and he pushes a sheathed sword into her hands. She seems surprised, and the two hug, words whispered so that they don¡¯t reach Kyra¡¯s ears.


    When Meilin returns, she¡¯s actually smiling a little, Lei waving her off from the gate as they continue their descent.


    June asks, glancing at the sword.


    ¡°An ancestral dao,¡± ¡°Not my family¡¯s, Lei¡¯s. His father gave it to him. Means he expects it back, one day.¡±


    Kyra peers over towards the sword; it¡¯s long, but not so much as to require two hands. She notes that the blade curves a little, while the cord-wrapped hilt cants in the opposite direction. The sword itself seems entirely functional, in comparison to the more elaborate runic writing on the black-and-gold sheath.


    ¡°Should Ewan and I have a weapon?¡± ¡°In case we get jumped by some sort of monster?¡±


    ¡°Have you ever trained to fight with a knife before, or a sword?¡±


    ¡°No, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°No buts,¡± ¡°You¡¯d be just as much a danger to yourselves and those around you as you would be to an attacker. If we wind up in that sort of danger, you two just run, or at least get behind me.¡±


    Meilin asks, tilting her head.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    June replies, causing the Marchlander to quirk her lips in appreciation.


    Kyra folds her arms, making her thoughts on the matter clear with a grumpy pout, though she doesn¡¯t push the issue. Soon after they¡¯ve descended low enough to stand at the base of the plateau.


    June asks, glancing at Meilin.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost as far west as you can go,¡± ¡°So we¡¯ll need to head south-east to reach W¨´-Pailou. The old Jade Road is mostly intact, though we¡¯ll have to do a little cross-country.¡±


    ¡°Could be worse. We won¡¯t pass too close to the Great Cliffs, will we?¡±


    ¡°I wish. I¡¯ve never seen them myself.¡±


    ¡°Never been out of the highlands?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long way to travel without good reason.¡± ¡°I would love to see a Marchland city one day. Seems I¡¯ll be seeing even an Earth one before that.¡±


    June lifts her shoulders.


    Ewan pokes his head between them and into the conversation.


    ¡°Of course,¡±¡°I hope you didn¡¯t think the entire Marchlands was like this?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you think of the Marchlands as like Great Britain¡ªand that¡¯d be fair, the size¡¯s are vaguely comparable¡ªwe¡¯re up in north Scotland,¡±


    ¡°Significantly fewer kilts so far though,¡±


    #


    The Jade Road, much to Kyra¡¯s disappointment, turns out to be a more fanciful name for an ancient path cutting through the undergrowth¡ªon some level, she¡¯d kind of hoped it was going to be something like the yellow brick road.


    Meilin leads them away from W¨´d?o and the mountain ranges out west, travelling south-east with dirt and stone crunching underfoot. More than once the path suddenly peters out, thick grass obscuring any sight of it. It¡¯s an easier trek than the one to W¨´d?o, however, as the moors become less wetland and more grassland. Not having to worry about falling suddenly into a peat bog helps, though the mist too has mostly cleared.


    Within eyesight a river flows along, water travelling in the same direction their party is. Birds flit about in the sky, competing for insects with small winged lizards. Their sounds, coupled with that of running water and rustling grass, are all Kyra can hear in every direction, an absence of civilisation she¡¯s never truly felt before. She¡¯d been camping with her dad when she was young, but a car, a phone, safety, was always nearby. This was different.


    She and her three companions could be the only people left in the whole world.


    Ewan says, puncturing the silence.


    Kyra almost jumps in surprise, head down as it was, trying to watch where she steps in the absence of a proper path.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to raise your hand,¡± ¡°You can just ask.¡±


    ¡°Is all of the Marchlands similar to our Asia?¡±¡°I only ask because those knight-guys we ran into yesterday didn¡¯t look or dress like they were Chinese.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Chai-nese? Like the tea?¡±


    June laughs, and Ewan goes bright red. Even Kyra stifles her own laugh, raising an eyebrow to June behind Ewan¡¯s back.


    ¡°Never mind,¡±


    ¡°China¡¯s a country on Earth,¡± ¡°It¡¯s probably where people will think you¡¯re from.¡±


    She shrugs slightly at that; put so abstractly, it clearly doesn¡¯t mean much to her.


    The four crest a small hill and pause, catching their breath. A splash of gold wildflowers dots the other side, a warm glow in the pale light. In the distance too, they can see the path begin to reemerge out of the undergrowth.


    ¡°Sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have laughed,¡±¡°Quick history lesson: Back in the day, the Marchlands was settled by two mighty empires¡ªthe Medraut and the Ti¨¡nl¨®ng¡ªthat found out the hard way that world-spanning imperialism isn¡¯t sustainable. They collapsed, but their people and their traditions¡ªand the traditions of those they conquered and brought with them¡ªsurvived to blend together into something new. It¡¯s part of what makes the Marchlands so unique; a melting pot of cultures that could never have interacted in the way they did otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Melting pot¡¯s a good word for it,¡±  ¡°We¡¯re all Marchlanders now. For better or worse.¡±


    Ewan bobs his head in acknowledgment, but his face betrays that he¡¯s still embarrassed.


    ¡°Hey. I didn¡¯t say all that to try and make you look foolish.¡± ¡°Kyra¡¯s going to need a mind like yours to make it as the Hero. Just try not to think of this as Earth, okay? It¡¯s far more complicated than we¡¯ll ever know, though I¡¯ll do my best to teach you as much about it as I can.¡±


    ¡°Teach me?¡±  ¡°About the Marchlands?¡±


    ¡°Obviously.¡±  ¡°You didn¡¯t think I was just Kyra¡¯s Guide, did you?¡±


    #


    Hours later, as the sun descends from its peak in the sky, the four take a break in the shelter of a stone ruin. Whatever it was has long since been scoured away by time, leaving behind a few broken walls in silent pilgrimage among the wildflowers.


    June says, tossing a flask to Ewan.


    He catches it, barely.


    A few feet away Kyra groans quietly as she sits down on a large boulder and stretches out, certain now that she¡¯s going to have the worst blisters of her life by the time they¡¯re done.


    ¡°I assume there¡¯s a good reason¡ª¡± ¡°But why couldn¡¯t we just go back via the lamppost?¡±


    In-between sips, Ewan glances up from the flask with a perplexed expression.


    ¡°The lampposts are kind of like an emergency system,¡± ¡°They can get you across in a hurry, but they¡¯re not exactly safe or accurate. I felt kind of okay taking two of us into the open moors, but going back into a city is a different story. One unlucky trip and you end up somewhere like the Premier¡¯s bathroom.¡±


    Kyra notes, and June grins cryptically.


    ¡°W¨´-Pailou has a stable gateway,¡± ¡°Apparently it always takes you to the same spot on either side. The town grew up around it, I believe?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t find many unguarded gateways in the Marchlands. New Albion is a different story, if only because we didn¡¯t exactly take magic into account during city planning.¡±


    ¡°Why New Albion anyway?¡±  ¡°No offence to us, but surely there are better places.¡±


    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡± ¡°A cynic would say the British wanted to dump their magic trouble in Australia along with their convicts. Maybe the people of Londinium were just sick of it, found some way to chuck the problem our way. Lot of generations since King Arthur agreed to take on that noble burden.¡±


    ¡°This King Arthur thing is still throwing me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get too in the weeds about it,¡± ¡°Who knows how much of that is true anyway.¡±


    Ewan throws out, getting a grumpy look in return from the older woman.


    ¡°Well, if we¡¯ve reached that stage of the conversation¡ª¡± ¡°Time to keep going then.¡±


    She rolls her eyes at the cries of protest.


    ¡°How about this? We¡¯re only an hour away at most. If we make it back before sundown, I¡¯ll buy everyone dinner.¡±


    Kyra¡¯s stomach growls at the thought, even having only had lunch. Ignoring the pain in her legs, she puts her shoes back on and drags herself to her feet.


    she says, stretching out her arms as she wanders out of the ruins and onto the road.


    She stops mid-sentence, eyes squinting at the horizon.


    June calls out.


    Kyra asks, gesturing towards the dark shadows gathering in the direction of their destination.


    Meilin has joined her, scanning the distance with a spyglass held up to one eye.


    ~***~

 ? 1.11 – The Witch

    ? 11 ¨C The Witch ?


    MARCHLANDS. W¨´-PAILOU.


    Despite the thick smoke hanging as a harbinger of danger on the horizon, Meilin and the three offcomers press forward towards W¨´-Pailou. The sun has dipped low in the sky, the mist building again after dissipating for most of the day. The grey clouds forming in the distance threaten a deluge of rain, but that might be fortunate, given how the air is now almost overwhelming with the scent of ash.


    The walls of W¨´-Pailou¡ªa monument to the work of ancient Sympathists¡ªare unmanned, arched gateways not even closed.


    June says as they near the entrance. Whispering under her breath, she unsheathes a sword of light from thin air, holding it out in front of her with gloved hands.


    Meilin tries not to flinch. Definitely Charter magic.


    She places a hand on the hilt of her¡ªLei¡¯s¡ªdao, as much for confidence as protection. It¡¯s eerily quiet as they cross the threshold, more the aftermath of tragedy rather than any present danger. A light rain makes the ground slick, turning any remaining blazes into pillars of smoke. The skeletal remains of houses and buildings jut out of the landscape, their stone bones black.


    Ewan asks, glancing around.


    Meilin was wondering the same thing. She stoops, examining the tracks crisscrossing the ground. Some of the prints seem like they belong to barrow geists, but that wouldn¡¯t make sense. They wouldn¡¯t dare attack an entire town, and it¡¯s not like they could have started any fires.


    It would explain the lack of bodies, she notes, though she pushes away that thought away before she heaves.


    ¡°They fled, I think,¡± ¡°They must have known they couldn¡¯t deal with whoever attacked them.¡±


    June replies, then raises a hand to command silence.


    Nothing but the gentle licking of flames and hissing of rain and smoke reach their ears.


    ¡°I think whoever did this has moved on too,¡±  ¡°That means we need to find the gateway, see if we can get it working ourselves before whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªdid this comes back.¡±


    Meilin nods in agreement, though she bites her lip to keep focus, not boil in anger that someone¡ªfellow Marchlanders¡ªwould do something like this. Skirmishes between Marcher Lords she understood, that was the sort of behaviour she expected them to lower themselves too. But W¨´-Pailou was only nominally bannered to the Marquis of Wildflowers; civilians lived here, peasants and merchants just trying to live out their lives. Her hand tightens on the dao¡¯s pommel, continuing her careful watch as they move through the deserted streets.


    In the distance, something¡ªa voice?¡ªcries out.


    Kyra says, stopping to scan the streets to their left and right.


    June nods but doesn¡¯t halt or change course.


    Kyra says, straining to hear the sound again.


    June replies, more firmly this time.


    ¡°How about Kyra and I check it out?¡±¡°Just scope it out, meet you at the gateway.¡±


    June pauses, turns around


    ¡°If it¡¯s dangerous we won¡¯t engage,¡± ¡°And Meilin has a sword, remember? You said you trusted her to know how to use it.¡±


    ¡°Be quick about it. We¡¯re out of here as soon as the gateway will let us.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Kyra grins at Meilin, and she wished she shared the Hero¡¯s confidence. In reality, she¡¯s trying not to shake in her boots, but the idea of leaving a fellow Marchlander¡ªsomeone trapped beneath a fallen building, perhaps?¡ªjust doesn¡¯t sit right with her.


    The two groups give one another parting , June and Ewan moving towards the town centre while the two girls head in the direction the noise came from. As they pass through the streets, the silence is broken only once more by the noise. Knocked over carts and abandoned stalls rise out of the mud around them, but no sight of whoever tended them a day ago at most. Meilin notes that it¡¯s a miracle the entire town isn¡¯t a husk; a testament to some ancient magic, perhaps.


    Eventually, they reach the large double-door for a large stable, debris having fallen across the doors. Kyra nods towards the largest beam of wood, and the two each take one side. Meilin feels winded just moving it several feet, but Kyra seems unfazed¡ªor at least, more fazed by the ease at which she moves the plank than the effort itself. As they let it clatter to the side, the barn doors crash open, enormous bodies racing out.


    Squawking and twisting, the animals racing to escape the smoke-filled stable; Meilin and Kyra only narrowly dodging the stampeding animals they¡¯ve managed to free. Two meters tall and with hatchet-like beaks, the raptors are in a blind panic, smoke and ash clinging to their marred feathers. Kyra disappears on the other side of the stream of coloured feathers, though Meilin hears her cry out. Dodging one of the terror birds herself, she hits the ground hard and rolls out of the way of slashing talons. She stays down, only rising when the last raptor herds away its chick, the group beating a path down the muddy road.


    Kyra¡¯s eyes are wide, blood dripping from a graze on her forehead.


    Meilin limps over to meet her.


    Kyra says.


    Meilin says, holding the girl in case she passes out.


    The cry sounds out again, though this time Meilin identifies it as coming from a small alcove inside the barn. Its owner, a pair of emerald eyes, watches them from the shadows.


    ¡°Well, we saved some raptors from suffocating, and a cat from being eaten by raptors.¡±


    Kyra manages a laugh too, keeping her breathing steady.


    ¡°You going to be okay?¡±


    Kyra looks up at her, close enough that Meilin can see the flecks of starlight in her hazel eyes.


    ¡°I asked if you were okay, not if you were sorry.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±¡°We were almost stampeded to death. You¡¯re allowed to be a little shaken up.¡±


    The emerald eyes above them meow in agreement.


    Kyra stops at the look on Meilin¡¯s face.


    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡±  ¡°Let¡¯s get back to¡ªah!¡±


    Pain flashes through Meilin¡¯s body, and she screws up her face, trying to fight it back. For a second she¡¯s falling, but this time Kyra catches her.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°I think I twisted my ankle worse than I thought.¡±


    ¡°What did you just say about apologies?¡±¡°You can lean on me, keep the pressure off, okay?¡±


    #


    The rain has drenched Meilin and Kyra by the time they¡¯ve made their way to the town centre.


    A torana stands in the absolute centre, a stone platform raising it slightly off the ground. Two columns supporting two transverse beams, it¡¯s surprisingly simple for something so important, only the strange runic language of the Charter carved into either side of the beams. They reflect the link to Earth, part of the magic needed to utilise the gate.


    Hopefully the Guide knows how to read it.


    Meilin knows a little of the language, an incidental part of her training to be one of the cunning folk. Not that she could decode it herself without the small guidebook she¡¯d brought with her.


    ¡°Are you two okay?¡± ¡°Did you¡ªdid you see the giant dinosaur bird¡­ things?¡±


    Meilin informs him, now curious to see a dinosaur¡ªwhatever that is¡ªwhen she¡¯s on Earth.


    ¡°Wait, those are raptors?!¡±¡°You ride those?¡±


    She winces again.


    Meilin and Kyra reach the stone platform, sitting down atop it side-by-side. They need to rest, but their eyes can¡¯t help being drawn to the dark streaks of blood that show bodies had been dragged across the stone. A short set of steps descends to the muddy ground to their side, and June comes down to speak with them. Worry creases her face.


    ¡°It was people who set fire to W¨´-Pailou,¡± ¡°But they had barrow geists with them.¡±


    For a second, Meilin wonders if she misheard. People couldn¡¯t work together with barrow geists¡ªthey were soul-eating monsters. You couldn¡¯t control them, even if you were addled enough to want to for some dark purpose.


    ¡°Surely you must be mistaken?¡± ¡°Perhaps barrow geists just came here for easy prey in the aftermath.¡±


    June nods slowly, though Meilin is unsure if she agrees with her theory.


    Kyra asks, looking up at the torana.


    ¡°In theory¡ª¡±


    THUD.


    Something drops to the ground behind them from a great height. Meilin feels Kyra lurch, the two stumbling forward. Trying to still hold the other woman for support, she turns to¡ª


    Meilin¡¯s blood runs cold.


    A little way away, a barrow geist watches them, hollow lights staring out of its exposed, canine skull, serpentine tongue licking its jagged teeth.


    ~***~

 ? 1.12 – The Witch

    ? 12 ¨C The Witch ?


    MARCHLANDS. W¨´-PAILOU.


    Meilin can tell the barrow geist is savouring the fear of its prey.


    Unbothered by the heavy rain, it paces, watching the group for the right moment. Its black form¡ªalmost parodic of a wolf¡ªbristles with tension, while the lights set into its exposed skull remain fixated on the humans before it. Lightning flashes, casting it in stark shadow.


    June whispers, stepping forward while she raises her blade into a defensive stance.


    Meilin whispers back, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.


    ¡°No.¡±¡°I¡¯m going to hold it off until you get the portal open.¡±


    Meilin¡¯s skin feels slick with sweat, even in this rain.


    ¡°You know some magic right? It¡¯s not as hard as it looks.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªlet me fight it. You open the portal.¡±


    ¡°With that limp, I¡ª¡±


    The barrow geist leaps forward and June¡¯s next words are lost in the roar of thunder. Her sword swing strikes the monster, causing it to roll to the side to recover. Its thick fur burns but doesn¡¯t bleed, the blade flashing off it as if it struck steel. The creature¡¯s eyes burn, more flames than lights now, as it begins to circle June. The Guide keeps her distance, moving clockwise to mirror the beast.


    Barrow geists always know the biggest threat. But if it kills June then¡ª


    Kyra¡¯s hand touching her shoulder snaps Meilin out of her tunnel vision.


    Kyra whispers.


    Meilin¡¯s mouth is dry.


    She scrambles to her feet, Kyra and Ewan joining her on the raised platform soon after. The former¡¯s mouth is a thin line of worry, while Ewan¡¯s eyes are locked on the unfolding battle.


    The barrow geist lunges forward again, June dodging to the side and bringing her sword up in another parry. The creature catches the sword in its mouth, throwing June and the weapon in opposite directions. She manages to jump forward and take hold of the sword, but not before the creature slashes her across the back. June cries out, her blood mingling with the mud and rain.


    Meilin struggles to wrestle her guidebook out of her pack, hands slippery with rain and sweat. Some of the symbols she recognises. One means Portal; another is the stand-in for Earth. The other¡¯s she scours the guidebook for.


    As she looks, she hears the hissing growl of the barrow geist, June¡¯s heavy breathing, dull thuds and flashes of thunder and lightning.


    Cave? No, that one was Grotto.


    And the other?


    Master. No, that wasn¡¯t right. Lord?


    Light and flame flash as June strikes the barrow geist, thick gouts of black blood splattering across the ground.


    Shepherd. The spell was Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡±


    ¡°Knew you would,¡±¡°Open the portal, I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    The barrow geist bears down on her, jaw aimed at her throat. June parries with her sword, sweeping it around to cut through the creature¡¯s skull¡ªbut it catches the blade of light in its teeth. Losing balance, June grabs the left side of the blade in a gloved hand, feet digging into the mud as the creature bears its weight down on her.


    she tells them through gritted teeth.


    Meilin turns to face the torana, trying to gather the ambient magic of the Marchlands within herself. Her mother had always told her it was a natural thing, that even if all she could touch is wild magic, it should still be easy. But her mother spoke from her own experience, and Meilin wasn¡¯t her mother.


    Palm held out, Meilin desperately tries to find something to cling to as she approaches the gateway. For a moment it truly seems that nothing will happen¡ªthat nothing can happen¡ªwhen Meilin feels her hand go flat against a wall. The air just beneath the torana is as hard as stone.


    She licks her lips, desperate not to let the sensation go, to tumble forward.


    ¡°Portal. Grotto. Shepherd. Earth.¡±


    She says the words aloud, but they feel meaningless.


    ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Ewan takes her other hand, standing somewhere behind her.


    ¡°You can do it.¡±


    She wants to laugh. How could he possibly know that?


    But nonetheless, Meilin steadies her breathing and tries again.


    ¡°Portal. Grotto. Shepherd. Earth.¡±


    The words tumble forth, somehow becoming more solid as Meilin repeats them.


    ¡°Portal. Grotto. Shepherd. Earth.¡±


    The storm seems to somehow be getting louder, and Meilin finds herself screaming to be heard over the howling wind.


    ¡°Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth. Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth. Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth¡ª¡±


    The air beneath the torana ripples like a stone dropped into still water, turning opaque, then revealing the image of some shaded place as seen through frosted glass. The storm is still raging, blocking out any other sound. Meilin wonders if she might faint.


    Turning her head, unable to move her hand, she sees Kyra and Ewan looking towards June. The older woman must have said something, because they hesitantly plunge through the glass, disappearing onto the other side of the portal.


    The world shakes, and Meilin distantly watches as June lets her sword dissipate into fireflies. She rolls to the side as she does, letting the barrow geist collapse forward. She staggers to her feet, racing towards Meilin. She seems to be saying something, but the words don¡¯t carry over the howling wind. The barrow geist rights itself, chasing after June as she scales the steps, crashing into Meilin, throwing them both through the portal¡ª


    Everything is dark.


    Then reality crashes back around Meilin, a return of sounds and feeling. She hits the ground hard, wincing as she and June strike stone. The magic breaks like a tether, the portal unravelling. But she can still see barrow geist too, lunging towards them on the other side of the glass¡ª


    The portal collapses, cutting the barrow geist clean in half. Its front half crashes to the ground at Meilin¡¯s feet, already beginning to decompose into a noxious ink.


    ¡°¡ªokay?¡±


    She blinks.


    June lifts Meilin up slightly, so the two are in a sitting position.


    Quite unsure of the answer to that question, Meilin takes a moment to survey their surroundings. They¡¯re in some sort of manmade tunnel or grotto, sitting on a stone path running parallel to slow-moving water. A strange script, almost legible, is scrawled in a rainbow of colour across the grotto wall; the smells of civilisation and rainwater heavy in the air. With the portal gone, she can see bars in the distance blocking further passage, while light behind her indicates some sort of exit.


    Meilin almost doesn¡¯t believe it.


    ¡°You better believe it.¡± ¡°Knew you had it in you.¡±


    Meilin realises she¡¯s splattered with blood, none of it hers.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need some stitches, but I¡¯ll¡ªI¡¯ll live. I¡¯ve survived worse.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re down here!¡± ¡°Thank god, you guys¡ªoh shit.¡±


    Kyra comes to a stop beside them, mouth agape at the amount of blood.


    ¡°We need to get her to a healer,¡±


    ¡°I¡ªwe could call an ambulance¡ª¡±


    ¡°Too hard to explain. There should be¡ª¡±


    Her face pales more than Meilin thought it could.


    ¡°Number in my wallet,¡±  ¡°Call Arjun.¡±


    Then she falls forward against Meilin, limp, eyes out of focus.


    Meilin is slow to react, still in shock, when Kyra appears beside them. She takes off her over-shirt, tying it around June¡¯s chest to put pressure on the worst of her wounds.


    Meilin says helplessly, trying to will herself to move, every muscle in her body aching.


    Kyra says softly, digging around in June¡¯s pack.


    Blood is staining Kyra¡¯s shirt, Meilin¡¯s hands. She wills herself not to pass out.


    She wills June not to die.


    ~***~

 ? 1.13 – The Guide

    ? 13 ¨C The Guide ?


    EARTH. NEW ALBION.


    Distant lights and colours play behind June¡¯s eyes. Familiar faces stand just out of reach, hands grasping at her from the shadows. There¡¯s so much blood. A hand on her shoulder, a voice whispering in her ear:


    ¡°If you die, you could apologise.¡±


    June¡¯s eyes snap open, though she very much wishes they hadn¡¯t. Her whole body aches, but the worst is her back, a white-hot pain raking across¡ª


    It¡¯s dark for a time, then June opens her eyes again, more slowly this time. She¡¯s lying on her side, can make out someone¡¯s studio. The noise outside signals cars, crowds of people.


    Back in New Albion, her brain processes, still on auto-pilot.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re¡ª¡±


    At the voice, June lunges up, trying to ignore the flash of pain the movement brings. She wraps a hand around her attacker¡¯s throat, pushes them down¡ª


    Kyra struggles to speak, move out of the older woman¡¯s vice-like grip.


    June releases the girl, hands trembling.


    The girl sinks to sit with her back against the bed, unable to answer until she can catch her breath.


    June¡¯s eyes flash around the room, taking in¡ª


    ¡°Is that typically how you treat someone when they save your life, June?¡±


    She tries to turn, face them, but it¡¯s too painful.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move, you idiot. You¡¯ll burst your stitches.¡±


    I know that voice.


    Arjun sweeps around to stand beside the bed, kneeling to check on Kyra. She waves him off, apparently more startled than hurt.


    ¡°Go get yourself a cup of tea,¡±¡°Let me check on my idiot patient.¡±


    Kyra gives June a shaky smile, then disappears from view. Arjun turns, raises a dark eyebrow.


    ¡°Your hair is silver,¡±


    ¡°An astute observation,¡±


    He stands up properly again, letting June get her first proper look at him in¡­ too many years. He¡¯s older now¡ªhad she missed his thirtieth? She wasn¡¯t sure¡ªbut it seemed nothing would deprive him of that effortless lean look. His skin is a slightly lighter shade of brown than she¡¯s used to, perhaps the fault of long hours spent indoors.


    ¡°I see it only took you nearly dying to deign to visit me again.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a jerk,¡±¡°I almost died.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I just¡ª¡±¡°You¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t bleed out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been through worse.¡±


    ¡°No, June, you haven¡¯t.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going on? What¡¯s with your posse of traumatised kids?¡±


    ¡°Kyra¡¯s the new Hero. I¡¯m her Guide.¡±


    Arjun leans back in his chair.


    ¡°Yeah, no kidding.¡±


    ¡°If¡­¡±  ¡°If you want to talk about¡­¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± ¡°There¡¯s a reason I haven¡¯t come to see you, and it¡¯s not just because you¡¯re a dick. It was just¡­¡±


    Arjun looks down at his hands, threaded together in his lap.


    The two sit in the silence for a moment, not sure what else to say, weighed down by everything left unsaid.


    ¡°So, uh, I guess I need to apologise to your dad for bleeding all over his shop, huh?¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°My shop, you mean,¡±


    June looks at him properly, startled.


    ¡°Arjun, I¡¯m so¡ª¡±


    ¡°Dad¡¯s fine. He just decided to retire early, travel the world with Mum.¡±


    ¡°And you took over? What happened to you being a doctor?¡±


    ¡°Tried it.¡± ¡°Someone had to step up in the end, though.¡±


    ¡°One of your siblings couldn¡¯t do that?¡±


    ¡°They all fled the country.¡±¡°Can¡¯t believe no one wanted to get stuck with the family curse.¡±


    ¡°So you ended up being, what, the responsible one?¡±


    ¡°Stranger things have happened.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that.¡±


    #


    June refuses to stay in bed, much to Arjun¡¯s chagrin, so they compromise on having her use his grandfather¡¯s old wheelchair. He wheels her out of the study and into the small kitchen, all part of a cosy Victorian-era apartment above the Goswami family business. The building felt designed a little bit like a rabbit warren, but June had always considered that part of the charm¡ªthough being wheelchair-bound meant she now couldn¡¯t make it down the stairs.


    Probably part of Arjun¡¯s plan.


    A kettle boils away on the stove to the left, while Kyra stands in front of a window nursing a cup of tea. She¡¯s dressed in a too-large jumper she probably had to borrow from Arjun, and the setting sun lights her from behind in a soft orange glow. Ewan is waiting nervously at the table, fidgeting with his phone, and he looks up suddenly when they enter.


    June shifts uncomfortably in the wheelchair.


    ¡°You almost died, so I¡¯ll forgive you this time.¡±


    Then she smirks, a sign June accepts with a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dead, so yeah. Sorry if I gave you guys a bit of a fright.¡±


    Ewan¡¯s look makes very clear that she¡¯s understating what happened just a little bit.


    ¡°I¡¯m grounding your boss here until at least tomorrow,¡±¡°No arguments. I need to keep you under observation for at least that long.¡±


    June tries to cross her arms in frustration, but it hurts too much to try, which is indication enough that she should concede the point.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Meilin?¡±


    ¡°Asleep in the other room,¡± ¡°Just seems like magic exhaustion, though. She should be fine tomorrow, but I don¡¯t want to wake her, so she¡¯s welcome to stay here too.¡±


    ¡°What about us?¡±


    ¡°Ah, you should probably head home,¡± ¡°Make sure no one thinks you¡¯ve gone been kidnapped or something. It has been a full day, unless I was out for longer than I thought.¡±


    ¡°At least time flows the same in the Marchlands,¡±¡°I didn¡¯t think to ask if we¡¯d get back and find ten years had passed.¡±


    ¡°That would make Hero-ing rather awkward,¡±


    She threads her hands together in her lap, not sure what to say next.


    ¡°You should come by tomorrow, discuss the future. There¡¯s so much responsibility on both your shoulders now. I don¡¯t want to scare you, but I do want you to be prepared.¡±


    ¡°Finding out about magic and a secret fantasy world helps take the sting off,¡±


    June offers them a smile back, if only because she¡¯d heard someone say the exact same thing, back in the day.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind if we invade your space a bit longer?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll insist on it. Besides, you¡¯re the most interesting company I¡¯ve had in months.¡±


    ¡°And on that note, you two better leave before he starts bemoaning his love life,¡±


    Arjun says, shooting a mock-glower in June¡¯s direction.


    ¡°You look after yourself, okay?


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m stubborn,¡±


    Kyra moves to sit down atop the table next to June, Ewan and Arjun disappearing from the room as she does.


    ¡°I thought you might die,¡±


    ¡°I could have,¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to worry you, but it¡¯s the truth. That¡¯s your reality now.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t I supposed to stop that though? Isn¡¯t that why I¡¯m the Hero?¡±


    ¡°I wish it was that simple.¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s do our best to keep it simple.¡±


    Kyra hesitates, clearly considering a hug but deciding better of it. Instead, she offers June a hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a hell of a forty-eight hours,¡±¡°Thank you, for being there for me. For us.¡±


    ¡°Always.¡±¡°It¡¯s my job after all, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to think you¡¯d do it anyway.¡±  ¡°I can tell you¡¯re a good person, Ms Winters.¡±


    #


    While Arjun takes the Hero and Squire downstairs, June slowly wheels herself to the doorway of the room where Meilin is sleeping. She seems at peace, breathing slowly but steadily. A black cat is curled up beside her, nestling against her for warmth. It opens an emerald eye to study the newcomer, returning to dozing when it¡¯s satisfied she isn¡¯t a threat.


    June asks Arjun when he reappears behind her.


    ¡°She had it with her when I arrived.¡±


    June frowns, but motions for Arjun to help wheel her away before they wake Meilin.


    They retreat into the study, almost but not quite the same as June remembers it. The personal touches of Arjun¡¯s father are gone, replaced with his own knick-knacks and photographs. One sits on the mantle above the fireplace, placed faced down. June recognises the frame.


    she says, as Arjun bends down to light a fire.


    ¡°We can talk as much or as little as you want,¡±¡°I¡¯ll go get us some tea first, how about that?¡±


    She nods, watching the crackling fire as Arjun disappears from the room. Her wounds still ache, but she¡¯ll heal¡ªa Titled privilege. Alone with her thoughts, she thinks back to what she saw outside the gateway in W¨´-Pailou, what she saw before the rain turned everything to mud.


    Should I have told them about the tracks before they left?


    She shakes her head, in part to reassure herself more than anything else.


    No, I don¡¯t want to scare them. Not until I¡¯m certain.


    But deep down she knows that any answers will just make how bad the situation is that much more apparent. All because it looked like the barrow geists had entered W¨´-Pailou through the gateway; that they were somehow from Earth.


    ~***~