Rob Scott - The Larion Senators

‘Because that’s what’s happened before,’ Jennifer said.

‘Well, yes and no,’ Steven said, ‘and I’m sorry to be so vague, but here, today, I’m betting on yes.’

‘Fingers crossed,’ Hannah said.

‘However,’ Steven went on, ‘I’d prefer it if you and Hannah left us now. Go back to the island and find a room, and assuming we’re all right tonight, I’ll call you and you can come and get us. There’s no reason for you two to stay.’

Jennifer nodded. ‘I agree,’ she said, clearly happy to get away. ‘I mean, I would stay if I thought we could do anything, but you’re talking about things I don’t even begin to understand. And you don’t need Hannah for this bit, do you?’

‘That’s right,’ Alen said, ‘the rest of us may be called upon today, but you two have nothing to gain by being out here. You should go.’

Hannah, seeing a fight coming, just shook her head.

‘But Hannah-’ Jennifer began.

‘No, Mom,’ Hannah explained. ‘I want to be here – I need to be here. Who knows what might happen? Everything could be lost just because we weren’t here-’

‘What can we do? Tell me honestly, and I’ll stay with you.’ Jennifer looked to Steven for support.

‘I don’t know,’ Hannah said. ‘I honestly don’t – but that’s why I think we need to stay. And come to think of it, how on earth will you manage to keep warm out here all day? You’ll freeze to death in this wind. You need the car.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ Steven said. ‘We can break the lock on the restaurant, or that concession stand. Once we’re out of the wind, it’ll be warm enough – we’ve got the kerosene heater, or we can build a fire.’

‘And what if Mark doesn’t arrive today?’

‘We’ll stay until he does.’ Steven was adamant. ‘There’s got to be a payphone somewhere around here, so if it looks like we’re going to be camped out here for a few days, I’ll call your mother’s cell phone and you can ferry out food and more blankets, but we’re staying. This is the place; I’m sure of it.’

Hannah sighed. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘but take these, in case you get bored later.’ She took some sheets of folded paper from her back pocket and handed them to him. ‘I’ll explain it all tonight.’

‘What’s this?’ Steven asked.

‘A little surprise for you,’ Hannah said. ‘I had my suspicions when I first met Gilmour and Garec. This clinches it.’

Confused, Steven tucked the pages into his jacket and took Hannah in his arms and whispered, ‘Please, go now. I just want you safe. Soon this’ll all be a distant memory.’

‘Promise?’ Hannah said.

‘I do.’

‘Well, when it is, I want to go someplace and get naked.’

‘As long as it isn’t in Eldarn, I’m right there with you.’

As she kissed him, Steven felt the tension leave his shoulders; his legs threatened to buckle. The wind off the water brushed the hairs on the back of his neck and he would have been content to stand there all morning, feeling her body pressing up against his.

Garec shattered the moment when he asked suddenly, ‘Where’s Milla?’

Alen said, ‘She’s right-’

‘Shit!’ Jennifer pushed past the others on the boardwalk and ran to a little pile of clothes: the pink snowsuit topped with the little girl’s matching hat and mittens. ‘Milla!’ she screamed, panicked.

‘There she is.’ Garec pointed down the beach at the distant figure making for the water.

‘Holy Christ,’ Hannah said, running for the steps, but Alen was already ahead of her, bounding wildly across the sand. Steven, Gilmour and Garec followed.

Steven cast off his own jacket as Milla dived into the surf.

The gull was still cawing when Mark woke, the side of his face dusted with a layer of white sand. He blinked his eyes into focus and searched as far as he could see without moving. At the edge of his peripheral vision, the ancient stone tripod supporting the Larion spell table stood unattended. The hilltop was quiet.

Nearby, Mark spotted the branch he had used to kill himself – his former self. It was within reach and, with a fluid motion, he rolled over until he could reach it, grabbed it and rose to a wary crouch. He checked out the side of the dune he had been unable to see, but still there was nothing.

‘Where are you, shithead?’ he whispered, following the slope into the marsh and around the confused tangle of banyan roots where he had hidden from the coral snake.

He was alone.

Standing over the table, Mark hacked impotently at it with the branch until, sweating and frustrated, he gave up and tossed the battered limb back into the swamp. Then he tried to tip the table over, hoping to stand it upright and roll it downhill. He thought perhaps it would crash through the brush and sink in the enchanted pool, where it would be guarded for ever by tumour-ridden tadpoles and sentient diamond-headed serpents. But it was too heavy; Mark couldn’t get it to budge.

He leaned on the table edge and considered his options. He couldn’t stand by while evil used the table to open the Fold and bring about the end of Eldarn, nor could he defeat himself. Lessek’s key was missing, and it would take days to excavate enough of the hillside to shove the granite artefact into the swamp – and even then, there was no guarantee it would shatter, or sink forever out of sight. He would have to go back to the marsh, maybe use one of the banyan roots to dig up and then drag loads of slick mud and rotting leaves, enough to grease the hillside, making the slope slippery ‘Mark?’ a voice called from somewhere behind him.

He leaped to one side and crouched down, expecting another fight, then he heard the strange voice again.

‘Mark, is that you?’ The voice was gentle, non-threatening. It appeared to be coming from the opposite side of the dune, the side he had forgotten, the side leading out to the azure sky and freedom. ‘Mark? Mark Jenkins?’

‘Who’s there?’ he asked softly, inching his way across the hilltop. ‘Who is that?’ When he stood, Mark could see down the other side, to the beach.

His father, young and lean, wearing his old bathing suit and carrying a beer can, was looking up at him.

‘Dad?’ Mark slipped in the loose sand and tumbled to the base of the hill. Embarrassed, he regained his feet and shook the sand off himself. ‘Dad?’

‘Mark? Where have you been?’ His father leaned over to help him up. ‘Your mother and I have been looking for you for an hour. She’s convinced you drowned out there somewhere.’

‘What?’ Confused, Mark hugged his father like he had as a five-year-old, throwing his arms around the older man and clinging as if it was the last time they would ever see one another.

‘Whoa, whoa, sport,’ Arlen Jenkins said as he hugged him back, ‘you’ve only been missing a little while, but your mom is upset. You know how she always tells you not to wander off. There’s too many people out here, Mark, too many strangers.’

‘Too many-’ Mark looked beyond the dune. Thousands of people were on the beach. Hundreds of beach umbrellas dotted the strand, a flowing garden of vibrant flowers. The North Atlantic heaved and rolled, its waves crashing in the throaty roar Mark had heard before falling asleep. ‘Jesus, it’s Jones Beach,’ he whispered.

‘Of course it’s Jones Beach, crazy person. Where else would we be today? You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you, son?’

‘Not here,’ Mark stammered, ‘it can’t… no, this can’t be it.’

‘You all right? You need some water or something?’ His father took him around the shoulders. The feeling was reminiscent of every comforting thing he had ever known in his life.

‘Wait, Dad.’ Mark looked between the sand dune and his father. ‘I need your help with something. Come here, it’s not far. Come with me, quickly.’