‘In the good, in the bad, in the ups and the downs, no one knows what is more than he who has the key…’

-The Wisdom of Zug Twill

URRTH

By the time Nell got all the things done around the Homestead that he’d needed too, and made all the deliveries, it had grown late. He stayed up a little later than usual, loading his orange skimmer car with the supplies he’d deliver tomorrow - it never ended - and then made himself something to eat. Plopping himself on a comfortable brown couch in his large, rectangular living room, he switched on the vid-monitor to catch a bit of the news.

The first story he saw was about a new world suffering – dying really – from the aftermath of the Shatter Wars which had ended only ten years earlier. Nell hadn’t been a part of the war. He’d heard stories, seen it on the news… Urrth – Nell’s home – hadn’t suffered from the war, they were… unimportant. But most of the Universe bore terrible scars, and many said it was dying.

‘You’d think someone could come up with a way to help those dying worlds,’ Fingold commented, settling on Nell’s shoulder. ‘All those refugees looking for new places to live… It won’t be long before they come to Urrth, and then we’ll have real problems.’

‘Maybe,’ Nell offered, though he wasn’t especially keen to have billions of beings landing in his backyard and setting up new homes.

The next story, as it began, caused Nell to sit up a little straighter. The reporter, a stout-looking alien with a row of three eyes, a thick brow, and a wide mouth, spoke in a deep grumble of a voice, while an image appeared to the side of his head. The image was that of a beautiful woman, she wore white armour, detailed in blue and held a sword - a Hanul-Kal, the weapon of the Emahra Warriors - in one hand. The girl was was posed quite majestically, a determined look on her stunning, gorgeous features.

Those features Nell knew better than most… those eyes, that purple hair.

It hurt to see her - as it always did - but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he could turn away.

‘In other news,’ the news anchor grumbled, ‘Princess Hart Iminalia, Emahra trainee and justice keeper in the known worlds, was seen two days ago on Katati, where she and her teacher - fellow Emahra Warrior, Alta Strata - helped track down and imprison the notorious Dark Wyzard, Helmdom.’

A new image appeared of an ugly man with a long nose and warty face, wearing a crooked, pointed hat on his head. He looked a sour as a lemon and seemed to be sneering at the screen.

‘When asked for a comment, Hart gave none beyond saying she was only doing her job. Many in the media eagerly await Hart’s graduation to full Warrior, which is whispered to be quite soon. There are further questions as to when Alathor Iminalia, the Heir to the Emahra throne - who is a few years Hart’s senior - will graduate too. But there are high hopes for Hart.’

A new image of Hart appeared; from her shoulders up. It showed her smiling. An image beside it showed her Sister. Hart had been adopted into the Iminalia family after her parents were killed at the end of the Shatter Wars. The Sisters actually didn’t look utterly different from each other; despite not sharing the same blood. Alathor looked a bit more exotic, and had rich, dark eyes. Her hair was blue. Her eyes were a different shape, and angle. The two women looked almost like they really could be Sisters… despite the clearly ethnic differences between them.

The Princess Alathor was indeed, at least equally as pretty as Hart… More Nell would say now, but… she was Heir to the Emahra throne, and rarely seen. Though he had known Hart, he’d never met Alathor, and had no reason to expect he ever would.

When he’d first met Hart she’d been on an assignment to Urrth. Then she was gone, but she’d made that enormous impact on Nell’s life nonetheless.

Things, as Nell understood it, weren’t as free for Alathor. She wouldn’t just show up on some backwater world on assignment… she was the Heir after all. It was said her life was closely controlled by the Royal Family, Royal court and High Council. Though Alathor was always smiling in her pictures, there was something truly sad in her eyes that Nell thought he could see.

He felt bad for her.

‘Viewers can be sure that you’ll know the first details on any of these stories here, on News-Net AG-5711…’ the News Anchor said, snapping Nell’s attention back to the broadcast. ‘When we come back-’

Nell reached for the clicker and switched the vid-monitor off, sending the room in to relative darkness.

Nell stared into the dimness, a frown bending on his face, as his heart seemed to clench in his chest.

‘Are you okay?’ Fingold asked softly.

‘No,’ Nell said softly, glancing absently around the room, at the other couch, the love seat, the fireplace, his desk and computer in the corner of the room to the right of the vid-monitor.

‘You watched it,’ Fingold said softly.

‘Couldn’t turn away...’ Nell replied. ‘I can’t stand seeing her... I can’t stand… not...’

He sighed.

He leaned his head back and sighed again. ‘I’m hopeless,’ he said, closing his eyes. ‘Oh, blazes, I’m tired,’ he moaned. ‘And I have to get up early for deliveries…’ he groaned.

‘Try and sleep well,’ Fingold said softly. ‘I’ll help you wake up.’

‘Right,’ Nell responded, and with empty plate in hand, he stood up and headed for the kitchen.

When he finally got upstairs to his bedroom and flopped into bed, he was far too tired to bother writing in his journal or any such; he just fell quickly, and quietly, to sleep.

That night he dreamed of the door under the water, and saw himself trying key after key in the lock, but none worked. All the while the glowing orb would pop through the door, making that sound, beckoning him on, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get through the door.

When he finally woke up it was with Fingold shouting in his ear, and despite the annoyance he felt, it was actually something of a relief.

‘All right, all right!’ Nell growled, sticking a finger in his ear and twisting as he sat up and glared down at his lizard.

‘Seeing that you said you wanted an early start, I figured I’d do my part,’ Fingold offered.

Nell looked out the window beside his bed and saw that there was barely a sliver of pink glowing above the trees, and as this was the height of northern summer that meant it was, really, really early. Turning to his comm on the blue and yellow shoe-box beside his bed that served as a bedside table, Nell read the time as two o’clock in the morning.

‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!’ Nell growled. ‘I hardly went to bed two hours ago!’ He flopped back down and rolled over.

‘Eh?’ Fingold asked.

‘Look at the time!’ Nell shouted, his voice muffled, his face in his pillow.

‘Oh, pish,’ Fingold said waving a hand, ‘my kind don’t bother with that time stuff – can’t say I can actually even read it – we go by the sky and what the sky says. The sky says the sun is on its way, and thus its early, and we should get to it.’

Nell rolled over to face the lizard, who jumped backward, landing on the bedside table. ‘You may not go by time, Fingold!’ Nell growled. ‘But everyone else does! Even if we headed out to do deliveries now - as you’re so keen to do - we might bloody well get shot at! And rightly so!’

‘No need to raise your voice,’ Fingold said, patting the air with his hands. ‘I was just trying to be helpful.’

Nell snorted, rolled over again, and closed his eyes, trying to fall back to sleep.

He was startled by a loud noise outside the house and quickly sat up.

‘Oh yes,’ Fingold said, slapping himself on the forehead, ‘there was another reason I woke you… Something is lurking outside the house.’

‘Thanks Fingold,’ Nell growled irritably, scrambling out of bed and to the door of his bedroom. A long pulsar rifle was above the door and Nell quickly grabbed down. Hurriedly he moved out of his bedroom, downstairs, and through his kitchen, into the living room.

Nell looked toward the windows on either side of the room. One - on the side with the door - had the blinds down. The other one just looked out on the side of Mark’s house. Everything was dim outside. Nell’s blue eyes were attentive as he scanned what little of the yard he could see through the one window. He saw nothing.

Then, something clunked loudly against the main door. Nell whipped his head toward it and brought his rifle up, aiming at the white metal door, his heart hammering in his chest, legs trembling a little.

‘WHO’S THERE!’ he shouted at the top of his voice, trying to make it sound deeper and scarier than it was.

There was - as Nell had expected - no answer. He considered moving closer to the door, but stopped when the handle was jiggled – Nell was grateful that he’d remembered to lock it before going to sleep. The jiggling stopped almost as quickly as it had begun, and then there was silence.

‘Should be a rather dreadful beast, I would assume,’ Fingold said suddenly in Nell’s ear as he dropped to the man’s shoulder, startling him.

‘Fingold!’ Nell scolded in a harsh whisper. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘Do what? By Jove, are you quite all right?’ Fingold asked rather concernedly.

The door handle jiggled again, and then there was a solid knock on the door - both of these things quickly drawing Nell’s attention forward again. He narrowed his eyes in confusion and, keeping his weapon forward, slowly approached the door. When he was very near it, he spoke once more.

‘Who’s there!’ he shouted, this time much softer than before – for which he was very sure Fingold was quite thankful.

The knock came again.

‘The poor dear must be deaf,’ Fingold reasoned.

Nell glanced at his lizard, scowled, and then turned back to the door, wondering what could possibly knocking, and wondering if it was dangerous.

Then a new thought hit him as he remembered the captivating glowing orb for earlier. He wondered if it had followed him home, and couldn’t communicate – but of course the orb had simply passed through the underwater door, why not this one? Still, with more questions than answers swirling around in Nell’s head, he wondered if he should open the door and see what was there… if it was the orb, he’d be quite pleased. He didn’t know why, but something about it was obsessing him.

‘You’re not actually thinking about opening the door?’ Fingold asked harshly as Nell moved his hand toward the lock.

‘Hmm?’ Nell asked, looking at his friend.

‘Well, your hand was-’

Nell drew his hand back quickly.

Fingold stared at him blinking. ‘Are you really well in your head… You’ve been off since that orb today.’

There was a bit of muttering outside that Nell couldn’t make out, and he stepped closer to the door, hoping to hear. The muttering ended, and then there was a new sound, a clicking. It took Nell a moment to realize what he was hearing, but by that time a key had already been inserted into the lock, and with a twist and a click, the door unlocked.

Nell scrambled backward, his rifle up as the door knob was turned and the door clicked open.

‘STOP!’ Nell shouted at a dark figure stood, silhouetted in the doorway. Whatever it was, it appeared to be floating; long spindly legs, with woollen socks hanging somewhat off the toes, just above the ground. The being, whatever it was, remained thin and gangly, all the way up to a head, which, if Nell wasn’t mistaken, had a long white beard, and a tall pointed hat set on a bald crown.

Striking blue eyes almost glowed through the darkness.

‘Oh, it is you,’ a raspy, elderly voice said, and then held up one hand, an orb of light appearing in it, lighting up a kindly - though rather withered - face. Spectacles rested on hook-nose, and he did indeed have a long white beard, a bald head, and a tall Wyzard’s had. He wore blue slacks and a blue vest and overcoat, with a gold chain crossing the front of his vest and ending in a small pocket.

The man smiled warmly at Nell, and then moved forward, but he didn’t walk, rather he floated, his socks barely brushing the wooden floor of the living room.

Nell backed up and threatened with his rifle. ‘I’m warning, you!’ he growled. ‘I don’t know who you are, but you’re on private property!’

‘Indeed,’ the elderly man smiled. ‘But I’m also here to help you.’

‘Well, that would indeed be a fine thing, wouldn’t it… Help him with what?’ Fingold asked keenly.

The man smirked, and held up his other hand – the one not lighting up the living room – and in it was a gleaming golden key. With his silver eyes sparkling, the Wyzard asked, ‘Looking for this?’