The Fifth World

Cynric: "Who disturbs the peace?!" the man growls, his eyes narrowing as he stares at Namara's face. She struggles but keeps her head up, showing her long and dark neck. I feel a strange expression cross my face, who is this man? He is definitely not young, though, his body is as old as mine, youthful, skin soft and smooth, hair short and a healthy and young brown. He looks at Namara, up and down, realises what she is through her sleek clothing. "A Justice Agent - a servant of the government. It has been many long years since I have seen one of you."

"Drop your dagger, brother!" Marcus hisses.

He has now picked up his Angelican dagger and moves towards the strange man. The stranger's clothes are old and tattered. I understand that they are many years old but underneath those shredded pieces of fabric are pure and strong muscles.

"The government of the Fifth World commands you to drop your dagger!" Marcus yells.

"The government of the Fifth World commands nothing of me!" the man yells, "the government of the Fifth World is nothing but a party of liars and power seeking criminals!"

Something inside of me clicks. Not even I understand what it is that makes me recognise this man.

"You," I say, I am speechless. I have never seen this man in my life but I have read about him in books, heard his stories, seen the paintings of him in parliament house. My mouth falls open a little.
Calhoun Hargon.

"You are Calhoun Hargon," I say to him. I notice Namara's eyes widen.

"Impossible!" she hisses, "the great Calhoun Hargon is dead."

The man turns his head in my direction, our eyes do not connect but I am sure that I am correct. His gaze returns to Namara, "the great Calhoun Hargon died many years ago - I am what is left of him. Tell me, Justice Agent, why do you bring havoc to my mountain?"

Namara shoots a look at her partner, Marcus stays away, his dagger slipping through his fingers simply from his complete shock at who is standing before him, threatening his partners life with an Angelican dagger. I sigh deeply and feel my head begin to spin. This is all too much. My hero has somehow arrived, alive and well. Bo is no where to be seen. Neither are Felicity, Nancy or Janine. I am sure they are somewhere, trying to fight off their attackers.
I black out again.

"Where am I?" I mutter, my head is hunched over, in towards my chest, my eyelids droop.

I am lying across something soft and smooth. I can feel leather against my skin. A leather sofa, possibly?

"You are safe," I hear Janine's voice and then I feel a wet cloth against my forehead. My eyelids flutter and I see her face. There is dirt smeared across her nose and shrubs in her red hair. "You took a good hit to the head."

Automatically I let my hand rub itself through my hair, it hair is gritty and disgusting. I then feel an aching pain and my head drops a little. My fingers find stitches along a long cut. I groan a little.

"Do not touch it," Janine whispers, "take these tablets, drink up the water. Hopefully it will soothe the pain."

She hands me two tablets, which I hope are strong, and then a glass of water. I take them from her, swallow them and drink the water in one go. After I let my eyes wander and I realise that I am in some sort of house or something. One that is well built and furnished. I am sitting in a chair, it is cushioned and comfortable. A blanket is draped over me. The walls are wooden, the ceilings rock but flattened perfectly, there are some carvings too. This place must have taken centuries to build.
I notice Janine stare at me, her eyes full of concern. They linger around my face trying to decipher what I am thinking. She sighs once and then lets her fingers touch my cheek very gently. I feel my body become rigid but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Where is Bo?" I croak.

"She is safe," she says to me and instantly removes her hand from my face, "Calhoun has put her to bed. She, too, took quite a knock to the head."

"Calhoun?" I was sure that was a dream. I feel my fists tighten. "What happened? What happened to Namara and the other one and the rest of them?"

Janine looks down slowly, a tear runs down her cheek, "he killed them, Cynric."

"Who did?"

"Calhoun Hargon," she whispers, I know why she is upset, she is upset because although those people were trying to kill us they are still part of us, they are humans, as are we, some could have been neighbours, friends, friends of friends, family friends and now each and every one of them is dead, "he is not what we were lead to believe as children, Cynric. I am afraid that he has not been that way for some time now."

I try to sit up but am stopped by Janine's hand on my chest, "I must speak to him, touch his flesh-"

"Cynric, his family was slaughtered. He has lived most of his life in this mountain. He is as good as a Thorne. He drinks, he smells, he may have helped us today and brought us to his home but we cannot stay here, I fear that he could be insane-"

"We have to trust him, Janine," I whisper and feel myself drifting to sleep, "for now."

Bo: I am comforted by a bed, I can feel blankets across me, thick sheets, warm, soft and lovely. I sigh, roll over and then I feel that pulling feeling. Again. I groan loudly but before I have even opened my eyes the bed sheets have disappeared, the softness and warmth of everything wrapped around me... gone.
I yawn, outstretch my arms and realise that I am back in England and in public. I laugh to myself, it is not an amused laugh but more of an embarrassed one. Luckily nobody sees me and my sudden appearance. I look down at myself, recognise the thick, woolen clothes that I had covered myself with last night. I must look like a homeless person or something. I sigh, pull some garments off, such as my thick snow jacket and scarf and cardigan. I drop them to the floor using my foot to store them behind a bookshelf.

A bookshelf?

I look around, curiously, my arms folded and my eyes wandering. Bookshelves are all around me, everywhere. Am I in a library? I wonder to myself and then pull out some novels to find that there are price stickers on them. No, I'm in a bookstore. I wander around, go from aisle to aisle just trying to make sure that nobody around me notices my disgusting hair and dirty face. I spot a counter towards the back of the large bookshop and see that it is unoccupied. I dart over there, making sure that nobody is watching, and find some reading glasses and an ugly knitted hat. I put both on, glad that my dirty hair is out of sight and my grubby face too - for now. I keep wandering out, hoping that I will be sent back into the present again... but it does not happen. I pass some customers, even some employees that give me the hostile eye. I keep moving, letting my fingers touch the spines of each book whilst I walk quickly down the aisle. I hope I don't have a concussion as that would be most inconvenient. My fingers take hold of the corner of the shelf I am at now and I swing myself around by that arm until I am into the next aisle. I feel my heart stop as my eyes lay themselves upon something... unbelievable.

Or someone.

His tall and slender figure, his young and mix of a blond and brown coloured hair. He stands, his breathing even and calm, as his eyes study each book sitting on the shelf in front of him. I feel tears in my eyes as I take a few slow steps towards him. I refrain from throwing my arms around him and telling him how much I love him and miss him. I notice his eyes move away from the shelf and in my direction but his head stays put. I almost laugh to myself, realising and remembering that I am in plain sight. I am not invisible. Callahan- my Dad can in fact see me and I can see him. He is young, good looking I guess, and is dressed in a buttoned up long sleeved white shirt and clean cut pants. He must be a student at university about now. I have reached the past - probably before my own lifetime. I take another step towards him and then he looks up at me, a strange expression across his young and alive face. I then realise, that even though he is young and healthy and alive, that beneath those wise blue eyes are deep and dark shadows, that around those lips is stubble and probably some temporary wrinkles. He looks like he has been having a hard time. Dad glances around, wondering why I am looking at him in such a strange way - as if he is some kind of god or something to me.

"Hi," I spit out with a big smile, my voice is loud, overly loud, "I'm sorry- um, would you like some help with something?"

How else am I meant to speak to him? This is my father, my real father even if we don't share the same blood. At this point in time he does not know me. All I am to him is a bookstore clerk who knows absolutely nothing about the Dewey decimal system.

He scratches his head and then smiles softly, "yes, actually," he seems nervous, "I was looking for some books on pregnancy, my wife and I are trying to conceive and-" he stops himself and shrugs, "I don't know why I just told you that. Well," he says and continues, "you could probably help me. Most of these books are on what happens during parenthood and what happens during the pregnancy, I guess. We're afraid we're doing something wrong, I mean, we've tried and tried and we have seen several doctors... could an intelligent author help us out?"

I stare at him, my smile still present on my face, I am jubilant. He must find me insane. I can feel the tears in my eyes and the need to wrap my arms around him still. I then clear my throat and realise that I need to help him or else he will probably look for help elsewhere. My eyes land on a book with a bright green spine. I don't even read it, it was just the first one I saw, I pull it out and hand it to him without looking at it. I just look at him.
"This one's good."

He takes it, nods his head and raises and eyebrow, "I don't think a book on breastfeeding is what we're after at the moment." I don't say a word, hell, I don't think I even heard him.

"You know," I say to him, "you and your wife are going to have a baby one day. It's going to happen. You may even have more than one and I know that they will love you so much."

He stares at me for a long moment and then puts the book back on the shelf. I breathe out heavily and then look away from him. If I keep looking at him I know I'll cry.
I then see a woman with long red hair bounce around the corner from behind me and take Dad's arm with her hand, she smiles up at him, her skin smooth and warm. There is a rosiness in her cheeks. Though, I can spot the frizz in her hair and her bitten down fingernails from her stressful days of wanting nothing more than motherhood, she is lively. She is alive too. I kind of understand now that when Callahan died Mum sort of died with him. These two, however, are very much alive. Mum wears some blue jeans, her bony legs visible through them, a warm jacket and a scarf around her neck.

"Sweetheart," she says to my Dad, "books won't help us-"

He hushes her and flips through some pages of a book he has picked up from the shelf. I notice Mum's eyes flicker to me, she smiles at me and then looks back at Callahan. I feel a pulling feeling and my heart begins to sink. With a deep sigh, I take one last look at my wonderful parents, turn to walk the other way but I stop myself. I stop myself from leaving them because all I want is to be here forever. I take a step forward towards them and put one arm around each. Dad coughs uncomfortably and I swear I fele Mum's stomach lurch when I touch her. I keep them in my arms for a moment and then I let go. They stare at me with shocked expressions on their faces.

I smile at them and say, "you'll make wonderful parents," before hurrying around the corner, wiping a tear from my cheek and removing the stolen knitted hat from my head and taking off the reading glasses. I drop them to the floor before I disappear entirely.

I am back in the bed as I was in before, it is still warm from when I left t. My eyelids flutter and I slowly sit up when I realise that I do not recognise my surroundings. Of course something like this has happened before - I have woken up in strange places not knowing where I am and how I have gotten there... but at this particular time I must be careful. The ceiling is rock but entirely carved. It is like the carvings at the Academy - tremendously beautiful.

"Good afternoon," I hear a deep voice and automatically look towards the door and gasp.

A man stands in the bedroom, his back across the peach wall, the door is closed. His arms are folded, he is youthful looking but I know, especially through his voice, that he is not young at all. I remember speaking to him earlier, hearing his name. His name is Calhoun Hargon and he was one of the first Angelicans to walk the Fifth World.

"Hello," I whisper, "how long have I been asleep?"

He shrugs, "an hour."

"Oh."

He clears his throat and runs two fingers down both sides of his chin, "no one has slept in that bed before. Not even I."

I look around the room, on the bedside table is a lamp marked with flowers and golden patterns, there are frames hanging on the pink coloured walls, water paintings of unicorns and fairies fill them. "This is a child's room," I say.

Calhoun nods his head, "it would have been my daughters."

I then remember, a vivid memory of only a few days ago, when everything was so different. Cynric told me that Calhoun went into the mountains hundreds of years ago. He never came back.

"You remind me of her, she had black hair, just like her mother. Beautiful blue eyes and a stunning smile."

I look nervously at the bedsheets, they are white, "what happened to her?"

It takes him a while to answer and I notice that when he finally does, he closes his eyes, "she was murdered as was her mother. I was lead to believe that Thornes killed them both. Little did I know that it was our own government."

"Why?" I ask, my voice sounding hurt and curious at the same time.

It is not surprising, after the conversation that I had with Nancy, that the government could be capable of this. I just want to know what would make them kill a little girl and a woman. Or anyone for that matter.

"My wife, Amelia, she attended the Academy with a Thorne named Thomas. She loved him like a brother and she kept in contact with him when he went to find his own kind in the mountains. She would see him every few weeks. The government did not like that. They did not want one of their own to speak with Thornes. They were afraid that secrets and knowledge could be passed on through Amelia and back towards the people of Hargon and the rest of the Fifth World. One day Amelia took our daughter, Tahlia, to meet Thomas for the first time. I never saw them again."

I look away from him, feeling guilty that I have reminded him of his pain, "I am sorry."

I notice how he lets his hand sink into his pocket and pull out a small bottle, I can only guess what is inside. He drinks it all until it is empty and then puts it safely back into his pocket.

"The government killed my life. They believed that they could keep my legend alive, claim that I was some kind of warrior, they kept my legacy going. But they were wrong. They killed my legacy too. My wife and daughter ran into Justice Agents that day, all specifically ordered to kill the 'traitors'." He breathes out a heavy breath and lets his thumb and index fingers touch his chin thoughtfully.

I then recognise a tear in his eye, he realises it the same time I do, he laughs once, shakes his head, coughs and leaves the room.