I’m going too fast for her, but hey, I don’t have a lot of time to play with. My main objective tonight is to make her believe, even if I have to shock her. Disbelief is the biggest hurdle to overcome. I have to open her mind to the concept that there is more to this mortal world than she’s been raised to believe. That there is such a thing as the paranormal.
She plonks down cross-legged on the moist earthen floor, shaking her head and dropping it into her hands. Then she looks up at me with dark, suspiciously narrowed eyes. ‘You’re freaking me out. I think we should leave.’
‘But I haven’t explained –’
She sticks out her hand with one finger pointing straight up. ‘That’s right, you haven’t. Now tell me how I healed my finger.’
I go and sit in front of her. ‘You’re a healer.’
‘What?’
‘I checked with Arkarian –’
‘Why do you keep mumbling that strange name? Who is Arkarian?’
‘He’s my …’ I try to find words she’ll understand. ‘My area supervisor.’
She squints at me. ‘As in your employer?’
‘Yeah, sort of. Well, yes, actually, but I don’t get paid.’ She groans. ‘You work for nothing? Somehow, Ethan, I can’t see it.’
‘Well, thanks. Whatever you think of me I’m not a mercenary. The rewards of this job far outweigh any monetary pleasures.’
‘O-K,’ she says slowly, humouring me, her head edging a little closer. ‘What exactly is your job?’
Hmm, Arkarian told me to go slow. In other words, explain enough for Isabel to understand without blowing her mind and stuffing all chance of her believing what I say in future. ‘I’m like a guard. Well, actually I am a guard. I was an Apprentice guard for a long time, but now I’m a Trainer.’
‘So what do you guard, Ethan? Girls?’
‘Very funny. And no, I don’t guard girls, though that idea does have its good points. I guard time. More specifically, history. My job is to make sure it all happens the way it’s supposed to, the way it already did.’
She greets this with a totally disbelieving lift of her eyebrows. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘I know it’s a hard concept to understand, so don’t worry too much about taking it all in just yet. What I want you to accept tonight is that there is this other world that works within our mortal one. Time in this other world isn’t measured the same way it is here. There are all these different facets. Imagine a brilliant crystal that’s mostly round.’
The only indication that she’s listening is the narrowing of her eyes. But then she says, ‘Are you trying to tell me that in this other world time is round, like a sphere?’
‘Sort of, but remember we’re just talking about the measurement of time, which is, by the way, a very mortal concept.’
‘Uh-huh?’
‘Yeah, and, well, there’s this place called the Citadel. It’s huge. You have no idea – rooms and corridors you could walk through forever and not have seen it all. Well, anyway, time there isn’t measured at all.’
‘Really?’
‘You see, way back in time –’
‘Mortal time?’ she asks with a mocking tone.
I try to ignore the tone, hoping my explanation will help unravel the mystery for her. ‘Yeah, that’s right. There was some trouble and, well …’ But the look on her face is too hard to ignore. She’s not taking any of this in. I’ve got to keep this simple. ‘Look, do you know your myths?’
‘Which ones?’
‘Greek. And Babylonian before that.’
‘Hmm, are you talking about the creation myth, and how everything supposedly started from a mist called Chaos?’
I smile encouragingly, but go on to explain, ‘It didn’t exactly go like that. You see, Chaos is a woman, one very uptight immortal.’
Her eyebrows lift, just a little. ‘You said that in the present tense.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What are you saying, Ethan? You’re starting to freak me out again.’
‘I’m trying to say that all our troubles began many thousands of years ago when one very bored goddess decided to create a little chaos. She found a way to tamper with the past. At first it was just fun, but it gave her a sense of power above her compatriots.’
‘The other gods?’
‘Right. Well, this particular goddess began experimenting and soon discovered that by tampering with past lives, she changed the present. She realised that if she changed enough past events she could create a future that made her even more powerful. Her sole focus soon became total domination – of the world. The more she changed to suit herself, the more power she gained. Over the centuries she grew obsessed with the idea. She started recruiting her own army of followers and began a kind of order. We in the Guard have come to know it as the Order of Chaos. It’s because of her and her Order that the Guard was formed. And it’s sort of ironic that we refer to it as an ‘order’ ’cause her armies, and the result of their actions, create anything but order.’
Isabel doesn’t say a word, just stares at me with those big brown eyes that seemingly grow darker every passing second. Then she sighs and shakes her head. ‘That’s ridiculous. And if it were true, why don’t we see any physical proof in the world today?’
‘There’s plenty of proof, just look around. The result of this chaotic disorder is famine, plague, flood, war, hostility.’
She scoffs at me. ‘Those things are either natural or man-made disasters.’
I think she’s just being particularly stubborn. She’s not even trying to allow the idea to take shape in her mind. ‘OK, look, what if I tell you that you and I are part of a Proph— a plan.’
‘What sort of plan?’
‘A plan to preserve history and maintain a stable present, so that – and this is the important part – the future unfolds as it …’ I’m losing her again. ‘Never mind.’
She groans dramatically. ‘Why should I believe this fantasy story of yours? You know you sound completely off your head. Are you on something?’
‘Were you on something when you healed your own finger this morning? Did you imagine the wound, or was it real?’
She glances down at her hand. I shine the torch on her fingers. She sighs and wriggles around. ‘I don’t know. It sure felt real.’
‘It was real. You know it was. You healed yourself ’cause you willed it to happen. You’re a healer and your time is approaching, so your skills are forming in a physical sense.’
For a second I think she’s accepting, but then her natural human scepticism digs in and she shakes her head. ‘This is too unreal. Everything you’ve said, it’s not possible.’
An idea hits me. There’s only one way to make her believe quickly. ‘Hold on, don’t move.’ I get up, thinking I’ll just have to use my other skill. Closing my eyes, I visualise exactly how the cabin was when I visited Rosalind in 1858, right down to the brick fireplace, the wood-burning stove and the window with the calico curtains.
‘Oh, wow!’
Her soft exclamation as she staggers to her feet has me opening my eyes and looking at my handiwork. The cabin is now fully restored, including the roughly made cedar table and chairs, stacks of bunks with their coarse blankets and lumpy mattresses, the family portrait over the top of the fireplace; and of course the cabin wouldn’t have the right feel without burning kindling in the stone fireplace, and the warm scent of freshly baked damper wafting from the oven.
Isabel touches my arm with a trembling hand, her mouth gaping, eyes hugely round. ‘Ethan, how?’
It’s exactly the reaction I want. Complete awe. ‘It’s an illusion. It’s one of my two skills. You saw me use the other skill in the classroom this morning. Remember the pen?’
She nods, still staring at the transformed room. ‘You created this?’
‘Only in your head. If you wanted to, you could look through it to the reality, but you’re not trained to use that part of your psyche yet. I’ll teach you though, if you let m
e. You see, you’re one of the Named. And now you’ve been chosen to be my Apprentice.’
Her ingrained sense of adventure starts to kick in. It starts in her eyes. They lose their wild frightened look, switching to an interested, verging on eager, curiosity.
And I realise that for now at least, I have her hooked.
Chapter Nine
Isabel
Ethan is really weird, more than anyone else I’ve ever met or am ever likely to. But I can’t deny what I see with my own eyes. The cabin, fully restored, smells and all, leaves me breathless. At least now I can rest assured I’m not going crazy and I really did heal myself this morning. Or maybe I am going crazy and this whole scene is part of my delusion.
I inhale a final whiff of home-baked bread before leaving the warm cabin for the chilling air outside. A few steps away I turn for a last look, but the cabin is gone. Without the proof before my eyes it’s easy to think I imagined the whole thing. Instinctively I feel the top of my finger again. No wound. No tenderness. Nothing.
What on earth is happening to me?
Ethan tugs on my arm. ‘C’mon, Isabel, we have to hurry. We can’t risk upsetting your brother. We have to be careful not to alert anyone to what we’re doing. There’re these codes, you see, that must never be broken. The first is secrecy …’
By the time we get back to the house I sadly understand what’s happening: I definitely am going crazy.
But we start training the very next day, straight after school, on the far side of the lake where hardly anyone goes. I’ve had all night to think about this strange other world within my mortal world, as Ethan puts it, and I have to admit it does sound a little exciting. Travelling backwards through time? Making sure the past evolves as it should? Wow.
But I’m no fool. It could still be some nasty elaborate hoax. A practical joke of the lowest degree. I wouldn’t put it past Ethan, or Matt for that matter.
Once we get right around the other side of Angel Falls Lake, it takes another twenty minutes for Ethan to be satisfied there’s no one in the area. He’s really careful about this secrecy stuff. It’s all part of their survival apparently. ‘We should really be training indoors,’ he explains. ‘Arkarian has training rooms within the mountain but I find it stifling in there when we have all this.’ He holds up his hands to the surrounding mountains and brilliant sky overhead. ‘People rarely come here anyway.’
We find a small open glen surrounded by tall woodland on three sides and the lake on the fourth. Ethan puts his bag down and, as it’s already growing chilly, decides to make a fire. Tediously he starts explaining where to get the tinder and how it must be laid first, with the smallest pieces of kindling placed gently on top in a pyramid, allowing enough space to start a flame. He goes to light the tinder, but the shredded bark he’s using is moist. The fire doesn’t start. I could have told him when he first collected the stuff not to get it from fallen timber lying on the ground, as it would have absorbed moisture, especially this high up in the hills and close to winter. Standing dead timber is best. But as he simply assumes my survival skills are nonexistent, I let him continue, knowing the fire will take a long time to start.
A few minutes later, my patience runs out. ‘Here.’ I gather some tinder of my own, exchanging it with his stuff. ‘Try this.’
In seconds a small flame is burning and soon the heavier kindling ignites. He stands back, staring into the flames. ‘You’ve done this before.’ It’s a statement.
‘Yes.’
‘Well then, let’s try something physical.’ He quickly switches into lecture mode again, this time explaining a thing or two about the art of karate.
Now I know I really should tell him, but again he hasn’t stopped to ask, assuming, I guess, that as I’m a girl, a small one at that, I wouldn’t have any physical skills. So I let him explain the basic points on stance and breathing and how important it is to control the mind. He paces through a simple self-defensive movement I learned six years ago in my first lesson. Then I throw him. His back thumps down hard on the cold ground.
‘Hey!’
‘Yes?’ I help him to his feet.
He stands back, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘You’ve done this before too.’
I nod. ‘I have a black belt.’
He’s fast getting ticked off, ego thoroughly bruised. ‘Anything else I should know?’
I do a quick mental check of the skills I’ve picked up over the years: rock climbing, abseiling, archery, fencing. I won competitions last year in both those last two sports. But I don’t say anything to Ethan. I’m not sure he can handle the idea of a girl being able to do things like that.
He snorts and kind of hangs his head, then starts to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I think I’m starting to understand why Arkarian only gave me three weeks.’
I don’t exactly follow, but somehow I sense it’s a compliment.
Chapter Ten
Ethan
Training Isabel proves easier than I imagined. She can do just about everything physical. She’s absolutely driven. It turns out she’s a sports maniac. There’s nothing she hasn’t done. It has me wondering, though, why a girl (or a boy for that matter) would do all those sports. It’s like she needs to prove something to herself, or someone else maybe. She’s strong, no denying that! She threw me so many times in karate this past week I think maybe she should be teaching me; but her small stature holds her back in other ways. Though she has the skills to wield a medieval sword with accuracy, it has her arms aching after only a few minutes. So working with weights has become an integral part of her training. The other major aspect to her training is in the metaphysical world. Isabel’s a healer, and though she managed accidentally to heal herself, doing it on call, forcing it to happen, isn’t working. Even using her meditative karate skills is proving no help. Still, we practise every day. Until we break through this block, any other paranormal skills she has will probably elude us. In this area we have heaps of work to do.
We’ve met every day for the past ten days, mostly after school and nearly all weekend. Our time together hasn’t gone unnoticed, even though I’ve tried avoiding Matt as much as possible, to the point of ditching the two classes we have together. But he’s bearing down on me now as I aim to jump the back school fence.
‘Hey, Roberts!’
I almost make it. But running would make me appear guilty of something, arousing his suspicions further, which could only make him hound Isabel for answers. If only he wasn’t so protective of his sister, and so negative on me.
Turning around, I see his girlfriend is with him. Great! This is all I need.
‘Hello, Ethan,’ Rochelle says softly.
‘Hello, Rochelle,’ I say, and then it happens again. My breath catches somewhere in my throat, making me gulp for air.
And as usual when Rochelle is present in my company, Matt stiffens like a board. ‘We have to talk.’
‘About what?’ As if I don’t know where this conversation is heading.
‘You know what. My sister.’
‘Is she ill?’
‘Don’t be a jerk, Ethan.’
‘What’s your problem, Matt?’
Rochelle’s eyes, as they always do, slide over me from head to foot. They come back up and she slowly smiles, sliding her hand through Matt’s hooked elbow.
‘I’ll tell you what the problem is, you’re spending too much time with Isabel. What the hell is going on between you two?’
For a second I don’t reply. Firstly, I’m insulted. What’s wrong with Isabel spending time with me anyway? And why is he so upset? Does he think Isabel still has a crush on me? That was when we were kids. She’s over that now. Today we’re just friends. And this past week, training together, has proved just how good friends we can be, though it’s just as well he doesn’t know that.
So for Isabel’s sake I’m not going to make this situation worse. ‘I’m not doing anything with Isabel. We’re studying
, working on our history assignment together. That’s all.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘No, I’m not.’ And I’m not, really. History is exactly what we’re working at. ‘Where do you get off calling me a liar, anyway?’
His jaw does that sideways shift again; this time I hear his teeth gnash together. ‘That’s easy, ’cause you are one. Remember, I know you from way back, and you haven’t changed one bit.’
He’s too much, but I’m not looking for a fight. If I had to I could flatten Matt with ease. No worries. But a punch-up is the last thing I want right now. I have more important things to do with my time and energy. ‘Suit yourself.’ I go to climb over the fence but he drags me down. ‘Hey!’
Still holding on to my shirt, he says through gritted teeth, ‘If you hurt my sister, I’ll come after you.’
I shove him back hard enough to break his hold. ‘What would be so wrong with me seeing Isabel anyway? She’s a nice girl. I like her.’
He comes back quickly, pointing a finger roughly at my chest. ‘You’re not a nice guy.’
I can’t help my eyes sliding to Rochelle, who until this moment has been content to say nothing except with her expressive face and eyes. She knows there’s no real history assignment. She takes history too. Whatever her reasons, she’s keeping quiet. I don’t want to think about why. Just looking at her now wearing that smug smile, what is she thinking? Probably remembering those conversations she initiated so long ago that forced a wedge between Matt and me. Obviously she doesn’t care.
Matt catches the look I share with his girlfriend, misinterpreting it once again. He grabs my shirt front, letting loose with a fast left hook hard to the side of my head. His fist hits my cheek under my left eye, knocking me backwards. I get up, putting a finger to the rapidly swelling bruise. My fingertip comes away with a little blood. Hell!
Dillon suddenly appears at a run. ‘Hey, what’s going on?’
Matt turns slightly, an open hand held high. ‘Stay out of this, Dillon.’
Dillon looks to me for an answer. ‘He doesn’t like me hanging around with his sister,’ I say.