Vortex, Return of The Effra 1

Do you believe in fate?

Or is life just a series of coincidences,

and then you die?

Every living soul possesses magic;

all you need is to believe.

Prologue

The snow had been falling for hours and was starting to settle on the almost frozen ground. Ethelred shuffled around his chair and scooped up another log from the small pile next to the mantle. The fire was already stacked up pretty high, but Ethelred was really feeling the cold these days. He shivered and threw the log into the roaring hearth.

The wind whistled outside and a branch rattled against the little window. Ethelred glanced up. He could see the snow starting to settle in the corners of the panes, but beyond that, his sight was blanketed by the night. He shivered and studied his room, feeling anxious. Everything was tidy. The floor was swept and the kettle hanging from a hook suspended over the fire had steam wafting slowly from its spout. Books were stacked in neat piles on the small occasional table placed beside one of a pair of large comfy armchairs drawn up by the fireplace. The ceiling was low and heavily beamed, and the walls were almost totally obscured by well-stocked bookshelves and dressers piled high with papers, pots and crockery. A threadbare rug covered the floor between the two chairs, its colours faded long ago. The room had a cosy, warm feel. It was Ethelred’s haven from the outside world; he was becoming more of a hermit with every passing decade.

He’ll be here soon, he mumbled to himself, any moment now.

Ethelred had developed a habit of talking to himself during the last century or so; he figured it must have something to do with old age. He glanced at the window again, not knowing what to do with himself while he waited. He felt nervous for reasons he wasn’t sure of. He had known the leader of The Alliance since Etienne first arrived in Penrithen, young, passionate and powerful. He’d watched him grow and become wise, fought beside him and advised him during the many years of his long leadership. So why did he feel nervous now? True, he should have made the effort to visit the castle this time instead of making someone of such importance travel on a night like this to his small and humble home. Though even that wasn’t the reason. It was probably more to do with the disturbing atmosphere that seemed to have settled over the land in recent times. Birds had migrated early, and the wildlife in the forests and on the mountains was acting nervously. There was a definite feeling of unrest; even the weather was strange. Something was coming; the omens were not good. Ethelred shivered again.

He started to rub absent-mindedly the point of his left ear, then winced. The pain reminded him he had already rubbed it sore while pacing up and down earlier. He headed back to his chair, but before he could sit down there was a knock at the door.

Please enter.

The door creaked open and a tall man in a long black travelling cape entered quietly. The hood of the cape was pulled well over his head, hiding his face; the light from the candles placed around the room made the sprinkling of snow on the cape glisten.

The traveller stamped his feet and his hands caught the edges of the cape, gently dislodging some of the snow. Then, reaching up, he pulled the hood back off his head. He had a mass of blonde hair which hung untidily to his shoulders, and his face held age and wisdom, but was also handsome, in an intelligent way. The most striking thing about him though were his eyes; bright blue in colour, they seemed to dance and burn with icy fire.

Welcome, my lord. Please have a seat. Can I take your cape? Ethelred stepped towards him, holding out a hand.

Cut the formal crap, Ethelred, we’ve known each other far too long for all that, and you know I hate it anyway.

He swung his cape from around his shoulders, revealing a tunic made of heavy material in a rich royal-blue colour, black leather trousers and stout riding boots. A wide belt around his waist had a long sheathed dagger attached to it. He turned and hung the cape on the back of the door, ignoring Ethelred’s attempts to retrieve it. Striding over to the fire, he collapsed in one of the chairs and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Tell me, old friend, what has you so spooked tonight?

Ethelred turned to one of the dressers on which stood two earthenware tankards and a large jug. He filled the tankards with mead from the jug and came to sit opposite his guest, handing him one.

You can’t say you haven’t felt it too, Etienne? Ethelred stared at his guest. Surely you’ve felt the unrest in the air? It’s all around us.

Etienne stared back thoughtfully at the old elf sat opposite him. He could see where he’d rubbed his ear raw and smiled at the old habit he’d witnessed so many times before. The elf had wispy grey hair, small black eyes set in an oval face, a large hooked nose and a slightly pasty complexion. His aged appearance was due more to being shut away studying and writing for a thousand years than physical age, as elves don’t usually age much past early adulthood. He could see the worry lines etched across his old friend’s face and the way he was holding the tankard just a little tighter than necessary. The elf was dressed in the floor-length tunic favoured by his people, a deep burgundy colour with a design of creeping vines intricately embroidered over it in fine gold thread. It told of a wealth and importance that wasn’t obvious from the appearance of his home. He had known Ethelred all his life and trusted his wisdom and judgment above all his other advisers and friends, of which he had many.

They both sat in silence for a while, sipping their mead and considering Ethelred’s question.

What does it mean? Etienne asked.

Ethelred sighed deeply, staring into his tankard.

I can’t be sure. I’ve contemplated for many hours, trying to see what may be coming, because I feel there is something coming; and of this I am sure, if it does come it won’t be good, whatever it is.

Well, that makes a lot of sense. Etienne smiled wryly to himself. He was used to his friend’s roundabout way of approaching problems. So this ‘whatever it is’ is going to be bad?

I believe there’s destruction creeping towards us.

Ethelred’s brow was deeply furrowed with concentration as he got up and walked over to a well-packed bookcase behind Etienne’s chair. He reached up and took down an old, dusty volume with a tatty brown leather binding. Returning to his chair, he carefully allowed the book to fall open at an already marked page.

The prophecies speak of a time when a poison will spread, of how our peoples will have to fight to preserve what we have built here, what we all stand for and ultimately for our souls to remain free and pure.

It all sounds a bit over dramatic. Tell me, what truth could lie in a prophecy written thousands of years ago, probably outdating even you?

You should never underestimate the importance of the prophecies, Etienne. You of all people know how deep the magic runs, how it can affect even the smallest, most insignificant of us.

You believe these prophecies, then? You believe what they are predicting for us? This was a straight question with no mocking edge.

Yes. They have been right so many times before. They predicted the terrible famine two thousand years ago, the great flood and Hadrin of Camlain’s destruction of Svorin. Also your own rise to power that led to the forming of The Alliance, to name but a few. Yes, I believe in and live my life by these prophecies.

There was silence as they both contemplated what had been said.

Tell me, then, Etienne finally broke the silence, what else does it say is in store for us?

Ethelred took a deep breath and thought for a minute, staring down at the yellowing page of his book.

Well, it predicts that a great poison will spread from the south, tainting everything we hold dear, corrupting our minds, undermining our peace and threatening our destruction. He paused for a second, letting that sink in, and then continued. It also speaks of an evil being who will come, bringing with him one who has knowledge and understanding of what threatens us, one who will be the ultimate key to ridding us of this poison.

You mean the devil? Etienne sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hide a smile.

No, I feel sure it doesn’t mean the Lucifer himself. I don’t think we have to worry along those lines. I feel certain if that was what was meant it would have been made clearer. Ethelred tried to be reassuring. It says an evil one, whatever that may mean; perhaps a villain of some sort?

And it doesn’t clarify what form this poison will take either?

That’s how the prophecies are. They just predict what will come to be, they don’t tend to go into specifics. Ethelred looked down at his book again as if hoping the answer would suddenly materialise on the page.

Etienne ran his fingers through his wild hair and rolled his eyes.

Great. So I suppose you’re telling me I should be more lenient with every wrongdoer from now on?

Any more lenient and you won’t acknowledge they even exist.

The two friends grinned at one another before downing another tankard of mead in silence, enjoying the warmth of the fire while contemplating what lay ahead. Etienne studied his old friend, seeing how worried he was. Ethelred was more in tune with nature, the seasons and the magic than anyone he knew. If Ethelred was spooked then there must be something in it; besides, Ethelred wasn’t the only one.

A sudden urgent knocking at the door made them both jump.

Yes? Etienne asked crossly.

The door swung open and a man dressed in a black leather uniform and a long black travelling cape entered. His hair was wet; the snow must have turned to rain. The weather was peculiar these days; it was only just autumn after all.

I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, the man apologised. It’s the Dragon, he’s gone crazy again. He’s on the southern tower, and the guards have had to make a run for it.

Etienne got up quickly and turned to the elf.

I’m sorry to have to leave like this. Feng has been disturbed in this way on and off for months now. Perhaps this is more evidence to back up what we have been discussing. He slung his cape around his shoulders. You must come and visit us up in the castle soon, we all miss you. Arabella has been asking after you. She wants to throw a feast in your honour.

I will, I promise. Ethelred was trying to sound sincere, but Etienne knew he really didn’t like leaving his home much these days.

Ridian creeden, ed vray omun aquidon kry shrila, Etienne.

Ed omun aquidon da, Ethelred.

Etienne swung his cape over his shoulders.

As he left, he turned to the messenger and asked, Has anyone gone to try to control the situation?

Captain Damian left straight away, sir, as soon as he heard.

I don’t know whether that’s particularly helpful. Etienne sighed as he closed the door.

Nightmare

The noise was deafening. Bloodcurdling screeches ripped through the darkness. Sam crouched low, too frightened to move. A damp decaying smell from the rotten ditch she was crouching in filled her nostrils. The freezing rain sliced down, making her teeth chatter as the vicious wind whipped her wet hair across her face. She was unable to focus on anything; it felt like the dark night was pressing against her eyes. She tried to work out where on earth she was, but her mind was frozen with fear.

Suddenly, the sky lit up. Flames shot overhead, scorching the air. Sam instinctively ducked down even lower, gazing upward, petrified. In that brief moment, as the flames illuminated the sky, the image they revealed made her heart shudder and she felt her blood turn to ice.

A short distance from the ditch was a tall tower, a medieval folly-type structure, but that wasn’t what had grabbed her attention. Clinging to the battlements with its head snaking downwards on a long serpent-like neck was a large, fierce-looking creature. The rain glistened on its scaly body and its fiery-red eyes, full of menace, were glaring down in her direction. It screamed again, an unearthly screech that raised all the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck. Every sense she had was telling her to run, get up and run fast, but her legs were frozen and wouldn’t respond. Gasping, she made an effort to try to clear her head and work out exactly what was happening.

Then nothing; the creature’s screaming stopped. The eerie silence was almost as painful as the screeching. It was then that Sam distinctly heard a sound from beside her in the ditch. The sound of someone exhaling loudly. Realising she wasn’t alone, she broke out in a cold sweat. A shiver ran up her spine and goose bumps rose on her skin. She was trapped, her legs too numb to move, but even if she could jump up and run the creature would be on her before she could take a step. She caught her breath and her heart started to race as she looked up into a pair of silvery eyes, burning in the darkness. A strangled sob escaped as more flames shot across the sky above her head, lighting up the owner of the eyes. He was staring intently at Sam, waiting; the man with scruffy black hair and horns protruding around three inches from the top of his head, the one who had been haunting her recent nightmares. The flames went out before Sam could get a good look and they were plunged back into darkness.

Hello. There was a flash of white teeth as he smiled at her. I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you.

Sam thought scare was a bit of an understatement; terrified was a better description of how she felt.

What… what? she gasped, trying to speak but failing.

I do not know what has got into him lately; he is not normally like this.

Sam just gaped some more; none of this was making any sense to her at all.

There was another ear-splitting screech from the top of the tower, so loud that it vibrated through the ground. Sam glanced up and then it all happened at once. The creature’s fiery eyes were shining through the darkness directly at her. A fireball shot from its snout straight at where they were crouching. In the split second that the flames flew towards her, Sam felt strong arms grab her from the side and then the flames hit…

Samantha White woke with a start, sweat rolling down her face. She was sitting up in bed, her pyjama top clinging to her clammy back and her dark brown wavy hair plastered to her head. The window had been thrown wide open and crisp autumn air swirled round her, chilling the sweat on her skin. Shivering, she pulled the duvet around her shoulders and swung her legs out of bed. As she tried to stand, her legs shook violently and she realised she was trembling all over. Steadying herself against the bedpost, she reached the window. The stay had been broken and the window had swung wide, back against the wall of the building. Sam’s room was on the fourth floor overlooking the university campus. In the dim October morning, very little was visible; a heavy mist hung in the air and she could only just make out the young silver birch tree not far away. As she struggled to pull the window closed, she noticed a figure curled up at the base of the tree. ‘Someone must have got so drunk he couldn’t find his way back to his room last night,’ she thought, fixing her window securely shut. ‘The warden will be cross when he finds him.’ Sam felt cross the stay had been broken, as she liked to sleep with the window slightly open. Now, with no way to secure it, she would have to keep it closed.

She crawled back onto her bed and curled into her duvet, glancing at the clock radio. Ten past five: two and a half hours to go before she needed to get up. Could she get back to sleep? A thrill of fear travelled up her spine. Did she want to go back to sleep? The nightmare still felt real, her heart only just slowing back to its normal speed.

That was the fourth nightmare of a similar sort she’d had since arriving at uni just over three weeks ago. The other three had happened in the first week as she settled into her new room. But as she hadn’t had any more during the following fortnight, she had hoped they had gone away for good.

The first three had been different to this one in many ways but one, they had all taken place in a maze of stone corridors. Sam had felt trapped, desperately trying to find her way out. In each nightmare she’d been jogging up and down these corridors looking for an exit. All the corridors were identical with flagstone floors and smooth block stone walls, broken only occasionally by pitch-black leaded windows and big heavy oak doors. She had tried desperately to open some of these doors, but all had been locked. Once, she had found a spiral staircase, like the kind you see in castles, and had descended the stairs only to find herself in yet another corridor. All the nightmares had ended a similar way too, with the man with the silver eyes. She wasn’t actually sure if he was a ‘man’ though, as he appeared to have two three-inch horns protruding from the top of his head and his skin was so pale.

In the first nightmare, she had almost literally run into him. He had been walking towards her as she turned a corner and appeared to be just as shocked as she was. The shock had jolted her awake.

In the second nightmare, she had become aware of someone following her in her desperate quest to get out. She had bravely doubled back, only to be confronted by him trotting along towards her. He had stopped and smiled at her that time, causing her to panic and trip up as she turned to run. She had woken that night with the terrible dropping-into-nothing feeling you get when you fall in a dream.

The third had ended when Sam turned into yet another corridor and found him sitting on a window sill as if he was waiting for her. She had stopped, gasping. He hadn’t attempted to move towards her, but as she staggered backwards away from him, he had stretched out his hand and said, Wait! Do not run away. His voice had been smooth, deep and velvety. It had been too much for Sam, and she had woken that time screaming.

That had been it, though. The nightmares seemed to stop, and for the following two weeks she had had nothing but dream-free nights. She shivered, huddled in her duvet, too awake for any more sleep. Please don’t let them start again, she thought, glancing at the photo frame on her desk. Her dad stared back at her, amusement glinting in his pale blue eyes. They perfectly matched the eyes of the younger, happier version of herself standing next to him, clutching the trophy she had won at their gun club’s summer championship. Grief and loneliness clawed at her heart and tears welled behind her eyes.

She sniffed and stared hard at the window, forcing the tears back. In the months after her dad died she had hardly shed one tear, but since arriving at uni, it was like the floodgates had opened. They had planned Sam’s university education together; it was what he had wanted for her. She had wanted it too, but without her dad it just didn’t feel right any more.

I am trying, Dad, I just don’t seem to be able to fit in. Everyone else is having so much fun.

Joe White just carried on smiling back at her, his dark wavy hair tousled by the wind, his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. Sam sighed. I need to pull myself together. I must get something to help me sleep properly and put a stop to those nightmares, she thought, giving herself a shake.

There was a chemist just two minutes off campus, easily reached before her 9.30 lecture. Feeling happier now with the hope of finding a solution for her dream-filled nights, she decided to get up and start the day early.

After breakfast and a long shower, Sam hurried from the building a lot later than she had intended. The sun was breaking through the autumn mist and she filled her lungs with the crisp air. A couple of scruffy male students were standing by the silver birch tree, looking down at the figure curled up at its base. Sam couldn’t see the figure on the floor, as the other two were in her line of vision. They were mocking him for his stupidity. She didn’t like the look of them and started to hurry past.

He looks like one of them bloody goths; look at him, the taller of the two said, poking the figure with his foot.

The figure on the floor rolled over, groaning.

What the… the shorter, broader of the two said in a shocked voice, but Sam didn’t hear any more as she hurried down the path in the direction of the chemist.

Before she reached the end of the path where it joined the main road running past the campus, the two students from under the tree came racing past, almost knocking her out of the way.

Did you see his bloody eyes? Creepy goth contacts; what a weirdo.

If they catch him with that fucking knife they’ll chuck him out for sure.

Great, Sam thought, some weirdo kid with a knife on campus.

The trip to the chemist almost made Sam late for her lecture, which wasn’t a good start, and as the morning dragged on she was finding it hard to concentrate. The growing dread that she was trapped on the wrong path nagged in the back of her mind. Looking around, the small theatre was full of students scribbling down hasty notes as a middle-aged lecturer with a comb-over droned on from the front. At one point he glanced down at the lectern and a strand of hair fell forward into his eyes. Sam was consumed by an attack of the giggles, which earned a scowl from the studious boy next to her. She carefully slipped her mobile out of her pocket. A hairy grey pony stared up at her from the screen. She ran her thumb across the picture of her old pony before checking the time. Half an hour still to go. ‘What am I doing here?’ she thought, closing her eyes. She could feel herself drifting off. She snapped herself awake with a gasp; she couldn’t afford to fall asleep without taking the herbal sleeping pills the chemist had given her. They weren’t very strong, but Sam had convinced herself they were the solution to the problem of the silver-eyed man.

Finally, the lecture finished and a chorus of chatty voices started as students gathered up their notes and left to get lunch. Anny, a bubbly girl with straight mousey hair and warm brown eyes, grabbed Sam’s arm as she made her way to the door.

Hi! I didn’t see you before the lecture.

No, I only just made it on time. Sam sighed. She had been hoping to sneak off somewhere by herself.

Come on. Let’s go to the coffee shop and get some lunch.

Sam really didn’t want to, but Anny was trying really hard to be friendly, and if she did end up staying, Anny would be a good friend to keep.

Okay, she replied, letting Anny lead the way.

Anny swept Sam along, chatting cheerfully about how Dave, her boyfriend, had promised to come down and stay for the weekend soon.

You haven’t got a boyfriend at the moment then?

Sorry? Sam bit her lip. Feeling guilty, she realised she hadn’t really been listening. Oh, no not at the moment. I broke up with Darren, my last boyfriend, two years ago after Dad got ill, and since then I just haven’t done much going out.

No wonder you look so down in the dumps, Anny laughed. We’ll have to go and check out that new club everyone’s going on about, show you some life.

The coffee shop was filling up quickly, so picking up a plastic triangle pack of chicken salad sandwiches and an orange juice each, Sam and Anny squeezed into a couple of chairs by the window.

You weren’t concentrating during that lecture, were you? Anny said. I heard you giggling when Jeff’s hair made a break for freedom.

I couldn’t help it. How can he think that’s a good look? Sam grinned, remembering. I couldn’t concentrate. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I’m not sure I’ve made the right choice with Law after all. I didn’t give it enough thought before I started, I was so wrapped up with Dad getting ill. Now he’s gone, I’m not sure if I want to carry on, she confessed and then bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t blurted it out because she really wanted to think it through in private.

Oh, Anny looked shocked. I’m really sorry about your dad. You should have said something before; no wonder you’ve been looking so down. Anyway, everyone gets worried they’ve made a mistake in the first few weeks; you’ll be okay once you’ve settled in.

I hope so. Perhaps it’s because I took a gap year; maybe I just haven’t got back into the whole ‘learning thing’ yet. My dad really wanted this for me and I don’t want to let him down.

What about you? Did you want this too, or did you come just because of your dad?

When I was growing up I always imagined I’d be a solicitor or a barrister just like him. I never really thought about doing anything else.

What about your mum, what does she think?

I haven’t got a mum. Seeing the worried, apologetic frown on Anny’s face, Sam quickly added, She died when I was born, so I never knew her. It’s always been just me and dad. Well, that is until he met and married Karen, but that was only three years ago.

Ooh, an evil stepmum, Anny laughed, trying to lighten the mood a little.

No, she could never be my mum. She did sort of try and be friendly, though. It was me, I was the evil one. After they got married I felt angry all the time and I did some bad things, acted wild for a while.

I can’t imagine you being a rebel. I bet your dad flipped, didn’t he? Anny looked amazed.

That’s when he became ill, when he got cancer. I shouldn’t have hurt him like that.

It’s not your fault; just because you went a bit wild, that wouldn’t have given him cancer.

Sam sighed, she didn’t know why she was telling Anny all this, but she knew Anny was right. All the same, it didn’t make it better; the guilt still gnawed away inside.

Look, shall we go shopping this afternoon? We’ve both got a free and I’ve only got these notes to write up; I can do them tonight, Anny said, changing the subject.

I don’t know, I should go back to my room and try to get my head together.

No you shouldn’t. Come on, it’ll be fun, let your hair down; we could find something to wear to that club. Please, Anny pleaded.

Okay, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for an hour. Sam sighed again.

She wasn’t in the mood for going clubbing, but an afternoon around the shops would be fun, and at least she could pick up something for tea and a DVD. If she wasn’t going to carry on with Law, surely she could have a night off watching a good film.

Mistake

Everything went black. Not black like night, black like absolutely nothing; like, is it even black at all or just nothing? There was a great pressure bearing down from every direction, making it impossible to breathe; it felt like steel wrapped around his chest, preventing it from expanding. The noise was unbearable too, a rushing sound, like a hurricane in his head, and his ears were already popping from the pressure. On top of all this he definitely knew he was moving at incredible speed. He couldn’t feel the ground or tell which direction he was going, but his senses told him he was definitely moving very fast.

Thankfully this lasted for less than a minute before he hit the ground, instinctively curling, which had the effect of increasing the speed at which he was travelling. Again, this only lasted for a fraction of a second before a tree got in the way. He bore the full force of the impact against the ribs on his right side. He felt them give with the collision and pain shot through his body. He gasped, not used to feeling physical pain, and opened his eyes to see the tree whipping back and forth as if in a high wind. The sky between the branches was starting to lighten – dawn was on its way. He stretched and lay still for a moment, clearing his head and trying to remember what had happened.

It came slowly, creeping through every cell, every sinew, every muscle. Throbbing pain, searing through every nerve, until his bones ached and his head felt as if it would explode. The tree and the sky were spinning and waves of dizziness swept through him. He closed his eyes and curled into a ball. Next came the nausea, making him want to retch. He fought the desire to be sick, determined nothing would make him perform such a disgusting act. This was all very new to him; he had never known illness, and always mocked the others when they suffered any kind of complaint. Never again, he swore to himself. I will never make fun of them for being ill again. Clutching his stomach, he lay still, curled up at the foot of the tree.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain and the nausia slowly started to wear off and he relaxed a little, but he kept his eyes shut, feeling the strange clammy sweat on his skin.

Damian thought hard, trying to remember what had happened, and it started to come back to him. The Dragon on the tower – he should have left it for someone else to deal with. Etienne wouldn’t thank him for upsetting it any more than it already was.

They had been on patrol for the last fifteen days and it had been well after moonrise when they arrived back at the castle. He’d sent the men to deal with their horses and get off home while he’d gone up to the guardroom to sign in and report. The whole time he’d been thinking about getting over to the new wing to see if the ghost girl was still haunting the corridors. On three consecutive nights before they’d left he had encountered her, bleached of colour and semi-transparent, wandering, looking lost in the empty hallways. She had such sad, frightened eyes, eyes that reached out to him for help, begging him for help. To help was an undeniable force, one he couldn’t turn away from, one he had to obey.

It was late and the castle was quiet. In the guardroom, Roderick, who was on duty and playing Mah-jong to while away the long nightwatch, had jumped up as he entered.

Captain, welcome back. Can I get you some tea?

I do not drink it, Roderick, you know that.

Oh right, yes, sir.

Roderick had smiled as he sat back down and continued his game. Damian had headed over to a line of lockers that stood against the back wall of the room and was just placing the two long knives he’d been carrying into one of them when the door was thrown open.

Roderick, where’s the boss? Feng’s gone crazy again.

A young fair-haired man in the same black leather guard uniform had come skidding into the room. His face was flushed, and his short hair was wet and plastered to his head. The young guard caught sight of the figure standing by the lockers and snapped to attention instantly.

Captain Damian sir, I’m sorry, I was, err…

You were in a hurry to make a report, Damian said, looking the guard up and down. Where is the dragon now?

He’s on the south tower, sir.

Roderick, send someone to inform Etienne please, Damian said.

Straight away, sir. He has gone to visit Ethelred tonight, though, so it will take him a while to get back.

Damian sighed. I had better go and see what needs doing.

As he left he heard Roderick say, Go and inform the boss straight away, and you’d better tell him Damian’s gone there already.

When he got to the south tower, Damian had edged along a damp, smelly ditch until he was as close as he could get without upsetting the dragon any further. Then, while he was trying to decide what to do next, she had materialised beside him.

Ghosts don’t normally travel, do they? As far as he knew, they usually just haunted the same area. This definitely was the same girl he had seen in the castle a fortnight ago, but the castle was leagues away. There was no mistaking it, he was sure. She was very pretty with those frightened sad eyes. It had been a mistake, though, to reach out for her like that. The flames wouldn’t have hurt her; she was only a ghost. So why had he done it?

He opened his eyes. He’d been lying there for a while and suddenly became aware of how quiet it was. The sound of the dragon and the smell of the rotten ditch had all gone; even the rain had stopped. Now he could hear strange muffled roaring noises and the air smelt stale, full of an unfamiliar smoky smell; grass, earth and decay. He had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed the change.

It was a lot lighter now. As he glanced around, nothing looked right. There was no sign of the south tower or the dragon. How far had he travelled? He looked around again. Even if he’d been blasted over the border it wouldn’t look like this.

Damian, what has happened to you? Where on earth are you? he mumbled to himself.

He tried moving, but he still felt a little nauseous. Groaning, he curled up and closed his eyes again. Maybe this was just a trick of being ill – when you open your eyes everything looks strange and wrong. Perhaps he was hallucinating; yes, that must be it. At least he hoped so.

There were a lot more noises now; he could hear people moving around, and in the distance, a loud rumbling was increasing in intensity. He opened his eyes a crack and watched as a girl and boy walked past in deep conversation. The girl had a short jacket on, fastened shut, and a scarf around her neck. Her legs were encased in tight black material that seemed to cling in places, and she was wearing the shortest, tightest skirt Damian had ever seen. It was so small he doubted it could even be called a skirt. The boy, on the other hand, wore baggy blue trousers, which were obviously far too big for him, as they were falling down as he walked, revealing his undergarments. Damian was sure no self-respecting male he’d ever met would allow that to happen, especially not with a female present.

They totally ignored him as they walked by and Damian wondered if he was invisible in this strange, surreal world. He lay still, watching and listening to the unfamiliar sounds around him.

After a while, his thoughts started to drift to how he’d got there. It must have had something to do with touching the ghost girl. As he contemplated this, he became aware of a couple of boys heading straight for him, dressed in leather jackets and the same scruffy blue trousers the other boy had been wearing. He closed his eyes, expecting them to pass by and not see him, but then he realised they had stopped.

What have we here, Pete? a sneering voice asked.

Well, I don’t know, Jed. He looks a bit worse for wear, doesn’t he? another voice sneered back.

Hey you! Are you awake? Jed asked.

He looks like one of them bloody goths; look at him. Pete nudged Damian roughly with his foot.

Damian groaned and rolled over, looking up at them.

What the…? Pete exclaimed, staring down at Damian.

As he gazed up at the two boys standing over him, a movement behind them caught his attention. A girl with shoulder-length wavy brown hair, wearing trousers and a warm-looking coat, was hurrying along the path. But that was all Damian could make out, because Pete was blocking his view.

Must think it makes him look cool wearing stupid contacts, Pete was sneering.

More like a clown, Jed laughed.

Damian wasn’t really listening. He wanted to get a better look at that girl; there was something familiar about her. The boys were getting on his nerves. Drawing a ten-inch dagger from his boot, he bounced to his feet in one swift movement.

I am a stupid clown, am I? He glared at the two boys. I am not in the mood for being insulted by children today.

Hey, we’re not kids! Pete shouted back, incensed.

Come on. Jed grabbed Pete’s jacket and pulled him away. Let’s get out of here.

They both took off in the same direction as the girl, nearly knocking into her as they ran past. She stepped sideways to avoid them and turned her head to watch them run off.

Damian gasped as his heart missed a beat. It was the ghost girl. How? He was stunned as he watched her walking away. She’s alive. Then suddenly realising that she was going to turn a corner and disappear out of sight, he started to run after her. No, wait.

When he reached the corner, where the path disappeared through a gap in a hedge, he froze. On the other side of the hedge, large ferocious monsters were racing up and down, growling at each other. He’d never seen anything like it before. He backed up instinctively, still clutching the dagger, not sure what to do.

As he tried to decide the best course of action, a woman hurried past along the path the girl had turned on to. Damian stepped forward again and poked his head through the gap to see where she’d gone. He could see her hurrying along beside the monsters, ignoring them completely, but there was no sign of the girl now. Just then, an enormous monster came tearing towards him, growling much louder than any of the others. Damian leapt back quickly to avoid it and watched, stunned, as it roared away.

That was too much. Damian turned and walked back to the tree to consider his options. This world was so alien to him. The people, the monsters, even the buildings were completely different to anything he’d ever known. He sank down at the base of the tree, replacing the dagger in his boot. Perhaps if he waited here the girl would come back this way. There didn’t seem to be a lot of other options open to him. There had to be an explanation for what had happened. How could he have been ripped from his life, his world, and dropped here? And why? None of it made sense.

Leaning back against the tree, he took a deep breath – even the air here tasted wrong – and prepared to wait. Whoever she was, that girl was his only connection with home. He needed her.

Followed

It was dusk by the time Sam and Anny were making their way back to the dorm buildings. They had walked into town and spent the afternoon window-shopping. It had been fun, but the wind had got up and there was a frosty nip in the air. Winter seemed to want to come early; it was only mid-October, but it felt more like December.

The girls had decided to head back after a quick visit to Tesco’s to get food. Giggling, they walked across the campus carrying a bag of shopping each, all thoughts of studying gone from their heads. On the approach to Sam’s building the path forked, one path leading to the front door of the building and the other around the side to Anny’s building. As they drew close, Sam noticed a figure leaning against the silver birch tree. Something about the way he was loitering made her feel uneasy. His black hair was greasy and unwashed, and contrasted sharply with the pale skin of his face. The long trench coat he wore was splattered with dirt. Whoever it was was trying unsuccessfully to look casual, as if he wasn’t watching them. The campus was strangely quiet and empty, probably due to the chilly wind, which made the man under the tree appear even more threatening.

Noticing Sam’s worried expression, Anny glanced over at the tree and shivered.

Carry on walking with me. You can get in through the back door or come to mine for a bit if you want.

I’ll get in around the back, Sam whispered, and they continued walking past the turning. She felt sure the man was watching them as they passed.

When they reached the back door, Sam gave Anny a quick hug and waited as she hurried over to her building. As soon as she was sure Anny was safely at her door, she darted swiftly in and up the stairs. Strangely, she didn’t hear the door click shut until she’d almost reached the second-floor landing. Because she had entered by the back door, when she arrived on the fourth floor she still had a long L-shaped corridor