Keon sat on one of the stones, elbows resting on his kneecaps. He stared straight ahead; eyebrows bunched together. After a few minutes, he felt someone approach from the corner of his eye. Zahara lowered herself gently onto the stone next to him. His brows unfurled and his shoulders eased.
“Hey Scrappy.”
Her slightly husky tones were melodic.
“Heyyy…”
Did that sound too sleazy?
“That sounded intense,” she said, nodding to Wellworn.
Keon scoffed but didn’t reply.
“Listen, I’m sorry about before. It’s…I really wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Yeah, what was that about?”
“It’s just…I’ve never met someone I knew from the other side like that before.”
Keon’s jaw hung loose, “How long have you been here?”
Zahara threaded a loose curl behind her ear, searching for the words, “It’s kind of hard to explain…Things work differently here—time wise. We can all enter Underland at different times but arrive at the same time; if you get what I mean.”
His blank stare told her he didn’t.
“It’s like this…” she hopped down from the stone and began tracing a triangle into the sandy dust, adding a circular point to each of the bottom corners, “This is you; this is me. The line between us represents time…”
She traced two fingers up along the paths until they converged.
“Up here? That’s the point we both enter Underland. Different times, but the same time. Get it?”
He slid down from his perch and kneeled beside her to get a better look.
“So, this place does exist outside our space-time…That’s mad!”
“See? I knew you’d get it.”
“You actually explained that really well.”
She shrugged a shoulder, tilting her head to one side, “It’s kind of what we do here.”
“What, talk special relativity?”
Her shoulders shook with silent laughter, “We teach each other. We share. Everybody has something someone else doesn’t. When we bring it all to the table, everyone grows.”
“That’s pretty deep.”
“And that’s just the beginning.”
“So—how long have you been coming here?”
She chewed her cheek, searching for the words.
“Like, two years? But it’s weird. It’s like, you come and go…but once you’re here, you never really leave.”
“Huh?”
“Kinda like how, once your eyes have been opened to something, you can’t unsee it. You tend to see it everywhere you go.”
“I think I get it.”
She smiled, looking back at her feet as she rocked back and forth.
“Alright, so I have a question—What’s with this guy?” he said, nodding his chin in Wellworn’s direction.
Her eyes flickered, scanning his.
“You can trust him. He’s a bit rough round the edges, but we owe him our lives.”
Keon picked up a stone and dashed it.
“Yeah, well. He basically told me one of you guys got captured ‘cause of me and if I wanna go home, I gotta help save them or something…”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Did he say who?”
“Nah, why?”
“No one’s missing from our battalion.”
“So, what, he lied to me?”
“Wellworn’s Captain of the King’s army. He leads units all over Underland. It could be anyone.”
Her chin dipped, eyes searching.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing, it’s just…weird. We’ve never had to rescue someone from another battalion before…”
“I dunno what to tell you.”
“At school…you said you got into a fight. Who was it with?”
“Gabriel Reed.”
“Ugh!”
Keon snickered.
“What happened?”
He shrugged, “He was being a mug… and wouldn’t stop…so I stopped him.”
She could tell there was more to it than that, but she wouldn’t press him on it. Not yet.
“You don’t think it’s him, do you?” asked Keon.
“I don’t know.”
“Think I’d rather take my chances with whatever’s out there,” he said, gesturing with his chin to the Lowlands spread out before them.
Her eyes held his, foreboding.
“You wouldn’t. Trust me.”
* * *
“Noooo fam! Don’t ever get them mixed up.”
“But habesha are from Ethiopia and Eritrea, aren’t they?”
“Not the real ones…” chuckled Dawit, sputtering water as he returned the canteen he was holding to his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “I’m kidding. Habesha’s an inclusive term, but no; I’m Eritrean.”
Keon snickered.
The group were sat in a semi-circle around the campfire, basking in its gentle glow. Wellworn was somewhere unseen making final preparations. Not that Keon cared. This was a welcome distraction from the brutality of their earlier discussion.
“We’ve been together for years. How’ve we never played this game?” said Kai.
“We didn’t ‘ave Keon ‘ere to suggest it,” said Shem with a smile.
Keon grinned, sheepish.
“Your turn,” said Dawit as he tossed the canteen to Shem, “Tell us your secrets.”
Shem gave a silent, cocky shrug then took a swig.
“Shem is short for Shemuel, which is the Jewish equivalent of Samuel...”
“Shem! You’re Jewish, bro?!” said Kai.
He shrugged again and tossed the canteen to Kai.
“What, that it?”
“That’s all you need to know, mate. Your turn.”
Kai exhaled, leaning back on a rock.
“Uhhh…my family name is Qin…”
“Like the Olympic diver!” said Keon, shooting out a finger.
“Yeaaah…I never bothered with that ‘western’ name stuff, since ‘Cai’ is kinda common—at least in Wales anyway—But folk here still insist on pronouncing my name like it’s only spelt with the first letter.”
“Sorry man,” said Keon.
“Yeah, well. Errrr…I didn’t ask to be here, but now that I am, I can’t seem to leave. Cheers!”
Kai took a sip and passed it to Jonas.
Jonas passed it to Zahara and began signing.
“He doesn’t like to talk about himself, but not ‘cause he’s mute,” she said.
Keon blinked in disbelief.
“Deaf sister,” she said with a smile.
“No kidding, you have a sister?” said Kai.
“Ew, she’s too young for you—Avana?” Zahara gently held out the canteen.
Avana took it with reluctance, big eyes shooting gentle daggers at Zahara.
“I was born in Kerala. My parents were missionaries in Bangladesh. When things didn’t go well, we moved to the U.K. The end.”
She popped the cork and drank.
Keon looked around the fire, awed. Whoever this King was, he’d managed to draw all these people together around one cause. Not only that, their diversity seemed to be reflected in the unique touches to each of their uniforms. Culture and heritage were important to these ‘Torchbearers’, woven into the intricate designs of their garments; from the blue and white tassels on Shem’s shawl to the golden embroidery on Avana’s.
“And you Keon?” said Shem, tossing his canteen of water. “Mum? Dad? Pet poodle?”
Zahara stifled a snicker that almost sent water shooting from her nose. Avana rolled her eyes. Shuffling in his seat, Keon looked down between his swinging legs. His shoulders rose and sank in the minutest of shrugs.
“Uhh…yeah, my Mum’s an oncology nurse. Her parents, my grandparents, were originally from Jamaica. My arch nemesis is my eight-year-old sister,” chuckles reverberated through the group. “I met Zahara this afternoon in the school library; before getting stuck under my bed obviously. And my dad…he…he isn’t really around…anymore…”
The air froze. Eyes darted, looking desperately for something, anything to change the subject. Not Avana’s though. Nothing seemed to phase her. She just stared straight at him like a midnight owl. Keon decided he would break the tension himself.
“So… ‘Torchbearing’ huh? What’s that about?”
“It would be easier if we showed you.”
Turning, they saw Wellworn looming over the stone stools.
“It’s ready.”
Comments (0)
See all