» 05 – The Squire «

MARCHLANDS. THE GLAINMOOR.

Everything seems to be happening so fast that Ewan feels he doesn’t have time to breathe.

Nonetheless, he manages: “Thank you.”

The strange men and women—knights?—have disappeared back into the mist, soon even their torches no longer visible through the grey haze that blankets everything here. The two newcomers—clearly from Earth—seem to have settled into relief after arriving in a panic.

“We were here to save you from barrow geists,” the younger of the two explains. About his age and clearly the coolest (or at least most confident) person here, she says the words with a little hesitance. Ewan guesses she’s new to this too.

The older woman, however, is obviously old-hat at this fantasy nonsense, eyes full of both weariness and concern. “Seems like someone already took care of that though.”

She lets her glowing sword evaporate into motes of light.

“Hmm,” Meilin replies, causing Ewan to glance towards her in concern. She seems far less relieved than he is.

Not wanting any more confrontations, he speaks up: “I’m Ewan, by the way. And this is Meilin.”

The two women introduce themselves in return, June and Kyra, and confirm they came here in a hurry from New Albion. Apparently, they’d been told he’d fallen between worlds and rushed here to rescue him.

“I’ve got a lot more to explain, but we should get back to Earth first—or at the very least civilisation.” June scans the horizon. “If this is the Glainmoor, then our best bet is to find a village, speak with one of the cunning folk.”

“Well—”

Meilin catches Ewan’s wrist to stop him, her eyes alighting on the space where the older woman’s sword had been. Was such magic fantastical even here, in another world? More questions he was desperate to have answered, though he chokes them all back down for now. He was under no illusion that getting out of here shouldn’t be their first priority. There’d be time to ask things like “What the bloody hell is going on?” later, once there was a later.

“I don’t think we have a choice but to trust them,” he says in a low voice; failing to add how chuffed he is that Meilin clearly at least trusts him.

“We were already heading to my village,” Meilin says finally. “You can speak with a wise woman there.”

“Thank you.” June touches two fingers, her pointer and middle, to her lips. “Is your village bannered?”

“No.” Meilin’s voice cracks like ice. “It’s free-land.”

June nods, obviously deciding to defuse any tension by ignoring it. “That’ll make things easier. We’ve had enough drama for one day.”

“And here I was thinking things were just getting interesting,” Kyra says, giving an exaggerated grin.

Meilin frowns, but says nothing more than, “Come on then; it’s this way.”

As they set off, a golden glow is creeping into the edges of the night sky, the mist still present but lightening a little with the coming day. Small flowers, every shade of purple, are opening their bulbs from the day. The moor is undeniably beautiful, even if it is apparently infested with peat bogs and ravenous monsters.

By the time they have trudged long enough for Meilin’s home to come into view, they’ve been graced too with the pale light of day. From this distance, Ewan can see the village as an island rising out of the mist. Built onto and on the sides of a plateau, its buildings are sophisticated but clearly pre-modern. A well-kept winding path leads up to an entrance marked by a large arched gate, one fashioned from dark wood and composed of two columns and an elaborate cross-piece.

“I didn’t realise there was a village out this far into the Glainmoor,” June comments.

“Wùdăo Village was one of the furthest way stations of the Tiānlóng,” Meilin replies. “Back in the day.”

As they draw closer, Ewan notices the structures and buildings seem reminiscent of millennia-old Chinese architecture, aged designs almost but not quite the same as the ones he’d seen in the world encyclopaedias he’d devoured as a kid. Were these people the descendants of ancient human settlers, or do other worlds have an Asia as well?

Ewan sighs. More questions. At this rate, I’m not going to have enough time to ask them all.

As they near Wùdăo’s gate, their party is stopped by a man’s voice.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat’s dragged in.”

Glancing left, Ewan identifies the voice’s owner is a bored young man leaning against one of the gate’s columns. Seemingly on watch, he’s of the same ethnicity of Meilin, with black hair and deep brown eyes. Handsome in the same way she’s a natural beauty, but the kind of handsome that’s tempered by an obvious arrogance.

“Lei.” Meilin does not say the name with kindness.

He raises an eyebrow at the group. “How did you manage to find this many strays on a simple trip?”

“She saved his life from barrow geists,” Kyra interjects, gesturing at Ewan. “She’s a hero.”

“Hmm.” He turns. “And you are…?”

“The Hero,” Kyra presses.

Alarm flickers into his eyes as he glances between each of them. He seems stuck for a reply, something which can’t be too common an occurrence.

Ewan isn’t sure if Meilin appreciates the support or not, but she only says, “I’m taking them to see Mother.”

“Go on then.” Still bewildered, Lei motions them further into the village.

Meilin leads on, and they walk up a slight incline through the village streets towards its centre. Villagers stop as they pass to stare and whisper amongst themselves, a buzz following them that feels like it’s growing greater as they continue. Given a few appear European, Ewan guesses their clothes are what’s attracting the attention, what betrays them as foreigners from Earth.

At the highest point of the plateau is a shrine-like building, constructed to have a public entrance with two open doors.

“You should wait here,” Meilin says, then disappears into the shadowed entrance of the shrine.

So her mother and the wise woman are one and the same? Ewan frowns. She hadn’t mentioned that.

“She doesn’t trust us,” Kyra says quietly when Meilin has disappeared.

“Marchlanders tend to have mixed feelings on people from Earth,” June says, shrugging. “It’s only natural. We are from another world after all, and rarely show up when there isn’t trouble.”

“Makes sense I guess,” Kyra replies. “I suppose if I had guests that only rocked up with bad news, I wouldn’t be super-thrilled to see them either.”

June laughs. “You’ll get used to it. And if you save enough people, they’ll appreciate having you around regardless.”

“Duly noted.”

While they talk, Ewan stands to the side, lost in thought.

‘The Hero’, June had called Kyra. Was she the person his dreams wanted him to find, who he was supposed to help? He thinks back to being chased by barrow geists and imagines a life where that might be a daily occurrence. That’d be a yikes from me.

Meilin reappears at the shrine entrance, interrupting his introspection.

“You can come in,” she tells them. “My Mother will see you now.”

~***~