The Lighter That Shone Like A Star (Story of The South) (15 page)

It had been a huge mistake to flee Pipton. Russell knew that as soon as they entered the forest and Sofia realised twenty minutes later when she tripped over some tree roots, badly grazing and bruising both her knees. They had not thought to bring any plasters or anti-septic cream. Russell tried to reason with his friend but it turned out that her stubbornness rivalled only her temper.

They reached Klop and Russell suggested they find somewhere to stay the night but Sofia protested, despite her throbbing knees, preferring to save the little money they had for food. So, on they walked. Through the small village and onto a main road, walking precariously on a narrow strand of green as cars whizzed past them, dangerously close. Sofia promised that she knew where she was going, but Russell was not at all convinced.

One hour and two near-misses later, Sofia finally admitted that they were lost. They stopped at a roundabout that neither of them recognised and began to bicker about the direction in which they would continue.

Hungry, tired, and regretful, Russell slumped onto the cool, moist grass. It was getting darker and darker, the round white moon luminous in the otherwise pitch black sky.

“Maybe we should stop till morning,” Sofia suggested, pulling up her long dress to just above the knee and wincing as the fabric peeled away from her broken skin. “Look, we’re surrounded by fields, we can find a spot that’s well hidden and work out the rest tomorrow morning.”

“Good idea I reckon,” agreed Russell.

The pair climbed over a low, wooden fence and ambled through field after field, walking further away from the road and hoping to stumble upon some kind of shelter. Just as they were losing faith, ready to give up and pitch their tent in any old spot, Sofia saw their beacon of hope.

As they reached the top of a hill there stood an old barn, surrounded by overgrown hedges and a few trees. It was in bad condition; the wood around the door hinges crumbled and there was a large hole in the ceiling. Russell swept aside some cobwebs with his arm as the pair tentatively entered the wooden den, relaxing slightly as it became clear that they were alone.

Sofia was left to assemble the tent in the darkness after Russell almost jabbed his own eye out with a tent pole. They crawled inside their canvas dome and slipped into their sleeping bags.

“Are you okay?” asked Sofia, her voice soft.

“Yeah, you?”
Russell replied.

She sighed.
“Yeah. I just miss them, y’know?”

“Yeah.
I miss them too.”

“Are you worried about Matthew?”

Russell nodded, and then remembered that Sofia couldn’t see him. “Mmhmm. I can’t stop worrying. If he’s hurt or… if anything’s happened…” he breathed deeply.

“I know. I’m sure he’ll be fine, though. They all will be.
Just fine.”

But Russell wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

They didn’t speak again but just lay quietly, the barn creaking around them. Eventually, Sofia’s breathing grew heavy and steady. Russell tried to fall asleep but every time he shut his eyes, Matthew’s face flashed before him, anguished and troubled.

Considering a life without Matthew caused him physical pain, left him feeling winded and broken. It was driving him crazy, his mind convincing the rest of him that Matthew was in danger… or worse.

That’s the problem with those moments before sleep comes – it’s the only time of day when a person has time to truly reflect on their life and either slip into a pleasant dream, or stumble into their deepest, darkest nightmare.

***

Russell awoke at the break of dawn, the inside of the tent already reaching an unbearable temperature. He kicked off his sleeping bag and pulled his ScribblePad from his backpack. None of his friends had scribbled, which he had expected.

Matthew always said “no news is good news,” but Russell had gone past the point of wanting good news. He just wanted any news, any sign from one of his friends. He and Sofia were ignorant to everything, and that was the most frustrating thing of all. They had their ScribblePads, but they knew that any activity would make them traceable. Besides, their battery would not last for ever and it seemed unlikely that they would be able to charge them any time soon.

Sofia packed up the tent as easily as she had erected it, assisted by the daylight shining through the barn’s damaged roof. Neither asked if the other had a plan, because they both knew that they were well and truly lost.

They did not even recognise any names of cities or towns on road signs. Still, they walked alongside roads, venturing onto a motorway, which was terrifying to say the least, hoping that they would…
well, they were not even sure what they were hoping for. They just wanted to get as far away from Pipton as possible.

After three hours of walking aimlessly, the pair decided to stop for brunch at a small diner on the side of a busy road. They had passed some villages on the way, but they did not want to draw any attention to themselves, which is sometimes inevitable when strangers enter a small community.

Russell ordered a pot of green tea and a salmon and cream cheese bagel, while Sofia opted for a frothy coffee with some bacon-topped gypsy bread.

Over the next few days (Was it four? Five? They had lost all track of time, their ScribblePads now completely drained of life) they carried on with their directionless wandering. Sofia’s knees had grown more and more painful, growing septic as she had not washed properly since they left Pipton.

Their journey to nowhere had drained them of everything; they had no energy, no money, no food, and no way of contacting anyone in a desperate plea for help.

Russell pondered about his parents. Were they worried about their son? Had Jill explained why he might have run away? Had The Creeps interrogated them? Tortured them? Killed… the thought was intolerable.

But with each sunset, it grew more and more difficult to shut out those haunting thoughts. Sofia was stronger than him. She hadn’t complained about her knees and only when she thought Russell was not watching her did she show any sign of being in pain.

Russell cried for Matthew, for all his friends and his parents. But he carried on walking. Every now and then a shower of rain would provide him with a cover and so he would let himself feel, his salty tears mixing with raindrops.

He wondered if Sofia cried in these moments too, or maybe when he was sleeping, but he knew that she hadn’t. And he felt even weaker.
Defeated. Despondent. Pathetic.

Each day they walked slower and covered a shorter distance, veering away from towns and cities but passing through villages. They had no clue where they were. Road signs gave them some vague inclination of the direction in which they were headed, but otherwise they were completely disoriented.

The dishevelled duo hadn’t eaten properly for a couple of days at least, and they drank water only when they passed somewhere with toilets.

Even pubs and cafés had stopped demanding that the teenagers make a purchase before using their facilities, as they looked so downtrodden and weak. But nobody offered them any help. They ignored them, pretending they did not exist.

A brief insight into the world through the eyes of the homeless
, thought Russell.

On the final evening of their trek, Sofia pitched their tent deep within in a woods that lay on the borders of a large village. The sun had not yet set, meaning they had admitted defeat earlier than ever.

Russell had a headache, eclipsed only by unbearable stomach pains. His throat was dry, his lips cracked. They hadn’t eaten all day and had only found two places, a pub and a service station, to fill their water bottles and quench their thirst. Sofia must have been in even more pain, the scabs on her knees seeping pus and the area of angry red skin growing larger by the hour. They would have to find somewhere to get it treated, a hospital or pharmacy, whichever they found first.

Canvas cocoons provided them with warmth as they lay there silent, unable to concentrate on anything other than their aches and pains, their troubling thoughts, and their sense of doom. They needed help, but they didn’t know what was happening in the real world. Surely people were searching for them. The Creeps.

And if they were found it could only mean danger, which meant they had to find someone first. Someone they could trust.

Yes, a hospital would be the best place.
That was Russell’s last thought before falling asleep.

But when their tent was unzipped from the outside the following morning, that thought soon vanished.

Light on the Landing had saved one of his friends, Max was certain. Jimmie did not have a cousin called Lynk. His neighbours, Jimmie’s parents, had a small family and Max had seen them all at some point in time. There was no relative called Lynk.

It was Freddie or Russell, it had to be. But then, perhaps Max was clinging onto any hope that his friends were out of danger. He locked his ScribblePad and slid out of bed, ready for another day of ruling Naegis.

Although, ruling this vast land did not seem to involve a great deal of work. Or at least, it hadn’t so far. Joz assured Max that his council worked hard to ensure that the kingdom ran smoothly. Max had no choice but to trust them.
Besides,
he thought,
I’ve got more important things to think about.

The Clemari had been training all week. For what, he was unsure, but he trained hard nonetheless. It commenced the day after Anne-Alicia arrived, Joz insisting that it couldn’t wait any longer and Luc advising him to do as Joz requested. But as the sessions intensified, Max had a growing inkling that they were preparing him for a fight.

On the first day, Joz asked Max to try simple bits of magic.

“Levitate this cup.”

“Now fill it with water.”

“Make the cup disappear.”

“Set fire to the table.”

Max had managed to perform these tricks umpteen times with ease.

Luc praised him. “Clemari, you have an impressive range of magical abilities. Now all you have to do is think bigger, really feel the power and electricity and energy, and you will soon be ready.”

“Ready for what, Luc?” Max demanded

“Anything,” replied Luc, looking over Max’s head directly at his father.

The second day was much more intense. Joz asked Max to fly. For over two hours, the three men stood in the empty hall, but all Max had managed was to make his boots vanish.

“Clemari, remember what I said,” urged Luc. “You have to really feel it, believe it.”

“Oh, Luc, shush will you. Why should he take tips from you when the most magic you can do is turn a lamp on and off?” Joz snapped.

Luc flushed pink, bowed his head and apologised to both Max and his father.

“No, Luc, don’t apologise. I appreciate your help. Thank you,” Max said, darting daggers of disgust at Joz. Motivated by disdain, he stood in the centre of the room and focussed his gaze on the high, intricately patterned ceiling.

Come on, Max, you can do this.
He told himself.
Your feet are weightless. They are light as air… And your legs, and your torso, and your arms and head… I weigh nothing. I can rise up. I can lift myself, into the sky. I can fly. I… CAN…

“FLY!”

Max shouted the final word and his entire body lurched upwards. The polished oak floor lay six feet below him. He found Luc and grinned at him, before suddenly dropping gracelessly, his back slamming against the solid ground.

Twenty more times Max did this, rising into the air before falling on his backside, knees, and finally feet. Each time he levitated it was with more ease and grace, hovering in the air for a few seconds longer.

The final time Max did it was the best. He could feel the power coursing through his blood and vibrating in his bones. His feet tingled as they rose off the ground. Shifting his weight, he was able to drift in different directions, turning and spinning with grace. His landing was still shabby, he decided as he crashed harshly on one leg.

Luc beamed at him and Joz called it a day, suggesting that tomorrow they meet in the forest.

Max was exhausted and so he asked for dinner to be brought to his room, rather than dine in the great hall as was customary. Being Clemari had turned out to be nothing like he had expected. Most of his castle remained a mystery, as did everything else.

After he had picked at his horse steak and roasted potatoes, not touching any of the steamed vegetables, he called for the only person he trusted.

“Clemari,” said Luc. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” admitted Max.

“Then why did you call?” asked Luc, curious of his Clemari’s unusual behaviour.

“I don’t know,” Max confessed.

“Shall I leave you to your thoughts?”

“No.”

“Very well.”

Luc lingered awkwardly in the doorway, looking straight through the room and out of the small window towards the forest, until Max finally spoke.

“I don’t know why I’m here. What am I training for? Why don’t I know anything about my kingdom? What should I know that I don’t already know?”

“Are these questions rhetorical, Clemari?” Luc asked.

“No, I want you to tell me the answers.”

“Sarcasm?”

“No.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“Bloody hell you are infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

“I am aware.”

“That was rhetorical.”

“I see.”

Max laughed in spite of himself.
Everything about this magical land was a complete enigma to Max, the ordinary boy from Hurburt, and yet he seemed to be the only thing that Luc did not understand. Maybe that was the perfect combination.

“Clemari.
You must understand that you join us at a turbulent time. We thought we would never have another Naegean king and then, sixteen years ago, you were born. We have been preparing for your arrival ever since, but we were not alone. When my father came to the throne, it was not entirely what the people wanted.”

“What do you mean?” asked Max.

“There was another, a woman called Eimaj. She was the Old Clemari’s sister. Had she been a male, she would have taken the throne. Both Joz and Eimaj are growing old, and neither will be alive for much longer.”

“But Eimaj is the enemy, that’s what you told me,” said Max, accusation in his tone.

“Yes. My father and Eimaj disagreed about the way in which to end the war. He was stressed and every eye in The South was upon him, waiting for him to do something that the Old Clemari had never managed to do. They longed for an end to the misery.
The
End.

“And so, my father made an unpopular decision and gave power to each land, stripping Naegis of its own limitless magic. He then made Naegis invisible and impossible. The fairytales were written and the people of The South soon believed our land to be a myth.”

“Oh my... I can’t believe this. So Joz made people forget that Naegis existed.”

“No. He removed all the evidence and, in time, people stopped believing. Eimaj was furious. She wanted everything to remain the same: Naegis would rule over the other four lands, using its magic and power. She wanted to force the rest of The South into submission, dictate over them and destroy anyone who stood in Naegis’ way. But my father was Clemari. He thought it was time to create a new world.
One of peace. Terexe, Hurburt, Red Sky and Salmont would each become their own land. They would hold power over themselves as they rebuilt their war-stricken countries. They would rewrite history as they forgot the past – as they forgot Naegis. The world would be more peaceful and much safer.”

“But that’s wrong! The whole world has been lied to!”

“More wrong than an evil dictatorship? Eimaj had terrible plans: slavery, punishment, murder and complete authority… supremacy. My father banished her from Naegis, ordering her to go to Hurburt and live out her life in peace and harmony. But, of course, she refused. She was too powerful and held influence over too many. She fled with her own army of followers. My father built an indestructible wall; a wall that Eimaj has never managed to infiltrate. He knew not what she would do next. He feared her. But for centuries he heard nothing.

“My father was relieved, in part. Perhaps Eimaj would be happy to build her own world, blocked off from the rest of The South. But then you were born. She heard about the prophecies and we were not alone in trying to reach you. We made elaborate plans, so complex that there was no way we could not obtain you first. But she almost foiled us. At the Light on the Landing gig, she almost managed to find you first. But my mother was unperturbed by the threat and, well, you know the rest.”

Max was overwhelmed by all this information. After hearing Luc’s story, he decided that he was glad Joz found him before Eimaj did. While he could not agree wholeheartedly with the decisions that Joz made all that time ago, neither could he argue that it wasn’t better than the alternative.

“So that’s it then. That’s what I’m training for: a war.
A war against Eimaj.” Max’s voice shook – in fear? Anger? He did not know.

“Yes. War is inevitable, but it will not happen yet. Eimaj will not make the first move, yet. And the most important thing is that Eimaj does not know that we have all we need – all
she
needs. She is still searching The South.”

“But how can she not know? She was searching for me. Her army saw me disappear in the Stone Circle.”

“Clemari, this is what my father has been frightened to tell you. And I am truly sorry for his actions this time.”

“Luc?”

“Since you were born, my parents have been doing everything in their power to not let Eimaj know who you truly are. While she learnt the name Max Myers from an early time, Joz saw an opportunity to protect you further. Eimaj thinks that there are two of you, and that only one of you is the Last Naegean.”

“Who?”
Max asked, his voice trembling in a building rage.

“Freddie Vassallo.”

Max swore loudly. Rising from his bed, he stormed up to Luc. He wanted to throttle him, strangle him, punch him. Instead, he flipped on his heel and kicked his bedpost.

“So at the concert Eimaj was looking for both of us, and you only saved me?” he yelled.

“Yes,” Luc said, emotionless.

“And she thinks I’m a diversion, and that you’ve all been fooled?”

“Yes. It’s clever when you think-“

“IT IS BLOODY STUPID! EIMAJ IS GOING TO FIND FREDDIE AND KILL HIM!” Max screamed, his anger bursting through his chest.

“No, Clemari. She could have taken Freddie, but she wants you together. Now we have protection over Freddie and you are with us, so he’s safe,” Luc tried to explain.

“And what happens when, eventually, she discovers that he’s not Naegean? She might have a use for me, but what about him?”

Luc had no response. Max knew that he had thought that far – Joz had brainwashed him into thinking that his plan was flawless.

“Clemari, I am sorry. I had not thought… My father, he is an intelligent man I’m sure he has thought about this.”

“Your father is a liar,” spat Max.

“I will not speak ill of him,” said Luc, weakly.

“But you think ill of him, and you know he can read people’s thoughts.”

“I am not people.”

“Right. Here’s what’s going to happen. I know Joz is your father, but I am your Clemari. I need you to show me that room, the one with the screens. If he is hiding anything else I will find out about it,” Max was pleased with the authority that rang through his words.

“I will show you,” promised Luc.

“Good. And I want you to know that I am no longer training for a war that may or may not happen. I am going to get them all here. Freddie, Sofia, Russell, and Lornea. I am going to find them and save them.”

“And Anne-Alicia?
Are you going to inform her of your plans?” Luc asked. There was something in his voice, a hint, a clue. Max looked him in the eyes, and his friend stared back.

What do you know?
He wondered.
There’s something you’re not telling me…

He was not expecting an answer, but it came nonetheless. Luc was apparently keeping more than just history from his New King.

Good, Clemari. You are learning fast.

Luc, tell me,
Max pleaded.

I can’t. You must think for yourself.

What?

Think, Clemari. Think logically,
urged Luc.

“Luc,” said Max after a long pause. “Anne-Alicia will sleep in a cell tonight and
await further questioning.”

“Very well, Clemari.”

“And so will your father.”

Luc’s face dropped. It was the first real emotion Max had seen from Luc, and it was fear.