Blood Lines

Loki chuckled.

The poor, weak animals could not see him – nor could they see the power he held, or the strings he used to control. A puppeteer playing with his favourite toys, the blood lines pulsing, the unifying force of all living things.

Asgard was obscured by cloud that day. Even if it wasn’t; the animals would not see it. They never had the capacity to see what was right in front of them – or rather, above them. Loki raised his hand majestically and swept some of the clouds aside. Below, a battle raged.

‘The animals fight well.’ he said quietly to his companions. Odin smiled indulgently and stooped to watch.

‘I tire of war,’ Freyja muttered under her breath. Loki heard her and grinned mischievously.

‘Well then,’ he said, ‘perhaps we should make things more interesting.’

*

Dust and silence had settled in the field between the two armies. The battle had been bloody and long; the field before them was littered with bodies, the silence broken by the groans of the dead-living. The living gazed upon the horror, and then retreated to set up camp.

No ground had been gained this time. Ground was rarely gained. The bones of old battles were scattered over the field and blood had stained the muddy earth a deep, weeping crimson.

The War between Worlds had been waged since the beginning of time. Ever since there have been worlds, there have been legions to protect and conquer them.

One soldier stood among the rest. Tall, thin, almost frail at first glance – many an enemy had considered that soldier an easy kill; and every one of them had tasted the biting edge of a warrior’s broad sword. This soldier was a living weapon. Fast, strong; without fear of death or pain, one of the most valuable weapons of it’s kind.

Caden brushed an ebony lock from her eyes and glanced at the weapon in her right hand. It was covered to the hilt in blood and gore. She turned her head once more to survey the carnage before her. Countless numbers of her former companions lay strewn within her vision, barely recognisable. She knew there was more than she could acknowledge– she just couldn’t tell who they were. Their faces were gone; their flesh carved away by enemy swords and scavengers. The unknown soldiers of war, at one in death.

‘Caden.’ her Captain called, ‘Come help this Fledgling.’ She turned slowly and inclined her head. Her name was one of the few the Captain had bothered to learn.

Caden strode toward the Fledgling that needed assistance. He was short and stocky, trying desperately to drive his shield into the soft dirt. Once supported by rocks and sticks, the row of shields would provide enough protection for the men to get a few hours of fitful, restless sleep. Caden stopped momentarily to clean her broadsword on a piece of woollen cloth in her pouch.

‘Need help, sodalis?’ she said by way of greeting. He turned and removed his leather cap.

‘No,’ he replied, ‘No, gratias ago.’ He put all his weight upon his circular shield, and it slowly sank into soil. Caden guessed his age at about eighteen. She was surprised that he had survived the battle; Fledglings were always the first to die. It was probably only a matter of time before this boy saw the sharp end of an enemy axe.

‘Why did that man call me Fledgling?’ the boy asked.

Caden shrugged.

‘My name is not Fledging.’ he said slowly, ‘They call me Klaus back home.’ Caden didn’t answer. ‘And your name?’ he asked.

‘They call me Caden’ she replied evenly, ‘here and at home.’ Home. Caden hadn’t thought of home in years. Home was a world almost three hundred leagues away, called Magratea. In all her time at war, Magratea was the only planet on which she had ever seen birds.

‘How long have you been stationed here, Caden?’ asked Klaus. There was something of an eagerness to his voice that Caden didn’t like.

‘Three years.’

‘Three years? That’s mirus! How did you survive so long?’

Caden shrugged once more, went to leave, but Klaus held her back with a calloused hand and eager green eyes,

‘How did you stay alive?’ he asked desperately. ‘Can you tell me?’

Caden was tempted to kill him – his naïve enthusiasm raised the bile in her stomach – but she had just cleaned her sword.

‘Do what Captain Fallon tells you, that’s enough.’

‘What does he tell you?’

‘Try not to get killed.’

*

Caden strode through the camp; routinely assisting new recruits where needed. She saw a few women weeping on each others’ shoulders and supposed that they hadn’t taken training very seriously. When women were trained for combat, they were trained to be strong and hard. No person saw battle until they were impassive enough to watch their friends die. Most new recruits were older – eighteen or nineteen. Caden had just turned seventeen last week.

She was fourteen when she first saw battle on Artenious. She hadn’t even known what they had been fighting for – that was inconsequential. Caden had been chosen at birth to be a fighter, a warrior. Like one in every three females born, she was sent to Magratea to learn how to kill separated from the women who were kept to be child bearers, and continue to maintain the armies of the worlds.

She had learned to kill, and she was good at it. Deadly and hard, she was also a creature of extraordinary grace and endurance. She was the youngest in her platoon when they arrived on the long boat; still distinct, she was the only one left alive.

Caden glanced up at the blood red sky. It was late, the Light Orb was setting to the North, and soon supplies would arrive from a nearby moon. She hoped it would be Hemlock supplying the food tonight – their food at least had taste. Two tastes in fact, dry and sour. Other supply moons like Orsino and Aster were not quite as flavoursome.

Captain Fallon called her name. She answered once more with a nod, and joined his side to survey the battle field beyond the relative safety of circular shields and dead bodies.

‘Kill anyone today?’ he asked her, tonelessly.

‘Copia, and you?’

‘Only about fifty. Slow day.’ He tore his burdened eyes away from the rotting carcasses and faced her, ‘Why are we here, Caden?’

Caden replied without hesitation, ‘To kill, Sir.’

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘But why? I must have killed hundreds. Mille. What good has it done us? Or Magratea?’

‘What good does it do Magratea to question?’ Captain Fallon lowered his head and contemplated her answer, ‘It is not our place to reason or argue. We kill. That is our purpose.’

Captain Fallon remained there for a long time, considering Caden. She glanced at him with curiosity, and moved on to get food and find a quiet place to sleep. Fallon lingered, staring once more into the dark abyss where tomorrow the Light Orb would rise and bleach the bones of his departed brethren.

*

Caden could not sleep. It wasn’t that the battle could upset her; she had never been in a battle that had marred her sleep in any way. She felt pulled, as if a string was connected to her waist, tugging her painfully.

She rose into a sitting position and the pressure eased for a moment, and then became more intense the longer she was still. She looked to her left, but she knew there was no one camped that way. She was on the end of a line of her comrades and she would have noticed if someone had gone off that way. Caden noticed everything.

She held up her hand, and extended it to her left. The pulling stopped, but when she lowered her arm back to her side, it began again. Caden had never felt this sensation before, but she understood that it would be appeased if she moved. She rose and began to walk to her left. The wrenching lowered in intensity, but continued persistently so that she felt she must keep moving. Caden knew to follow her feelings and instincts, and they were telling her to go left. She always followed her blood. It was never wrong.

Caden was drawn to a cliff edge which she recognised as one they had conquered a few weeks before. The Magratean Army had cornered their opposition at the bottom of the cliff, and slaughtered them all without mercy – only to find themselves showered with arrows from the reserve army above. She had had to scale the cliff face and lead her comrades to battle. There they had remained for weeks, never gaining ground or losing it.

Caden negotiated her way down the cliff face. She felt the pulling within her cease as she neared the opening of a small cave in the solid rock. She quickly surveyed her surroundings – the stench of decaying bodies arresting her nostrils.

She drew her sword from its leather sheath and stooped under the entrance of the cave. She began to feel her way down the narrow passageway, using the walls as a guide, her senses heightened in the oppressive darkness.

Caden thought it odd that she had never come across this cave before.
At the cave’s end, a stream of light entered through a small fissure in the cavern’s ceiling.

She had come to a round chasm, about two leagues wide where the stone walls were remarkably smooth to her touch. She raised her sword in readiness and tried to peer through the dimness, but there was nothing there. Nothing to suggest why she had been inexplicably drawn to this place.

She turned to retrace her path. As she retreated, something flickered on her right.

She spun and stared at what had appeared to be a bare wall. Red liquid oozed down the stone surface. She stared for a moment at the wall, before reaching out and touching it only to rapidly draw back as she smelt the tacky substance now lacing her hands.

Blood!

Spidery patterns began to emerge. Caden stared for a moment at her blood covered fingers, and again at the wall, fear creeping into her consciousness. She read the bloody script.

‘“Mundus muatatio en multi via,
Quid durus ac lapic licet nunquam vacilliatio,
Septum dies consilium facio lapic visum
Eo via eo mundus es modus at sum.”’

As she read the final word, Caden felt the pull again – more painful and urgent than anything she had felt before, forcing her to cry out in agony. Icy daggers repeatedly stabbed her and she doubled over waiting desperately for the pain to be sated.

With a last paroxysm of pain shaking her whole being, she was thrust against the hard stone walls, her eyes blinded, as she hurdled through mist and darkness...

*

What a day! Amanda thought, rubbing her eyes furiously. She poked herself in the eye with her pen in the process and mumbled a few choice swear words before looking back at her notebook. An unholy mess of ink, pen splatters and profanities jumped out at her from the scribble in the margins.

She glanced at the clock and groaned: 11:37. Thomas sat across from her typing at his computer. He, of course, hadn’t noticed the time. He had very important extra credit assignments that took precedent over such trivial things as eating and sleeping. Psycho. Amanda took up her pen once more in her aching wrist. Stupid Thomas, she thought bitterly, hogging the computer...

She read through what she had written so far. Extension English had seemed like a good subject to take at the time. Write a story, sign off a unit on her HSC – Amanda silently kicked herself. Idiot.

‘Thomas?’ she said. He looked up at the interruption, ‘I don’t think I’ve got this translation right.’ Yeah, let’s throw in a foreign language to spice it up a little! Idiot.

‘I’m busy.’ He said irritably.

‘Help me!’ she said, putting on her best Sad Face. Amanda knew that her twin brother was powerless against the Sad Face.

‘I don’t speak Latin!’ he muttered tetchily. He moved his elbow, awkward from the long hours of immobility, and knocked a glass from the table. Amanda smiled. She was glad that he had retained some of his old self even if it was only the clumsiness. After their parents were killed, Thomas had thrown himself into his studies to cope with the grief. I miss you big brother – even if I see you every day.

Thomas bent to clear the mess he had made, and drew a hissing breath as he cut himself on a piece of glass. He turned back to his sister – who immediately rearranged her expression back into the Sad Face. He sighed resigned to the inevitable, and held out his hand for her note pad.

‘Does it have to be so violent?’ he asked, raising dismayed eyes as he read the first few lines, ‘It’s all about war and death – what’s the point?’

‘Read the translation! Don’t bother with the plot!’

He read the Latin aloud:

‘“Mundus muatatio en multi via,
Quid durus ac lapic licet nunquam vacilliatio,
Septum dies consilium facio lapic visum
Eo via eo mundus es modus at sum.”’

The notebook slipped from fingers that had suddenly become nerveless. The room was icily cold – almost freezing. Amanda cried out as she felt a sensation like frozen knives driving themselves through her chest. Thomas gripped the table, doubling over as the cold overwhelmed him too.

The two were frozen in tableau, Amanda fixed in the computer chair, while Thomas clung to the desk top, unable to move. The cold went away.

As uncannily as it had begun, the chill suddenly dissipated leaving the twins shaking in disbelief. Still shivering, Amanda’s forehead began to drip with a cold sweat,

‘What was that?’ she said fearfullly,

Thomas stiffened as a crash sounded that reverberated through the room.

He seized his sister by the shoulders and violently pushed her into the doorway as the ceiling shuddered.

Instead of collapsing, as Thomas feared, a huge gaping hole tore through the ceiling forming a seething, pulsating hole. A Black Hole. Amanda felt herself inexplicitly drawn towards it; and were it not for Thomas’s strong arms protecting her, she knew that she would have been swept into its unknown depths.

Oh god, oh god, oh god…

A grumbling noise escaped the Hole, erupting in a crescendo of wind, and something catapulted with abrupt force against the opposite wall.

Stillness, and the Hole closed! Amanda felt her body relax and the pulling stopped. Her shallow, ragged breath pierced the now silent room. Thomas gradually loosened his hold on his sister, and breathed a sigh of relief,

‘Jesus.’ he muttered, pushing his hair from his eyes.

The room was in a shambles of overturned chairs and strewn paper. The computer had fallen onto one of the teddy bears. The bear was large enough to have saved the computer from too much damage – a small miracle. All of Thomas’s textbooks had been scattered on the table and Amanda’s notebook lay open on the opposite side of the room.

Beside it lay a dark mass, formless and still.

Amanda glanced furtively at her brother and saw that his attention had also been drawn to that part of the room. Together, they warily approached the shadowy form which gradually took shape. Amanda gasped.

It was a girl.

An unconscious girl. She couldn’t have been much older than Amanda – not even 17. She had long, raven hair that curled freely and her clothes she wore were tight at the bust and formed folds around her legs. But what struck Amanda most was the sword lying loosely in the girl’s fingers. It was plain, its edge razor sharp and blood stained. Something tugged at Amanda’s memory.

The stranger’s eyebrows were firmly shaped on a wide forehead hinting at power, and the aloofness that comes with true power. Amanda had studied faces for art – but she had never seen such an extraordinary mixture of melancholy, strength and beauty; a face that would not go unnoticed.

Thomas looked over her shoulder and gave a low whistle. ‘I can think of worse things to come out of a Hole.’ he said, with a smile in his voice. Amanda reached around her and whacked him in the shins.

‘Pig.’ she said fondly,

‘There’s blood on the wall.’ Thomas said disgustedly.

‘There’s blood on her hand too… and on her big ‘ol sword. Help me lift her up.’ She took the girl’s legs and Thomas manoeuvred around to lift the inert body. Whoever this stranger was, it was clear that she was out cold until further notice.

*

Freyja clapped her hands in delight, ‘What a show!’ she exclaimed. A cloud passed beneath her feet, and the three Gods watched the puppets below.

*

Pain flooded Caden’s senses. She opened her eyes slowly, the walls surrounding her were bright and moonlight peirced a window that had a clear glass protector on it, creating shards of light across her body. Her head ached, but as she reached for her sword, she subdued her pain in instinctive alertness.

Caden’s sword was gone.

Her body stiffened, prepared for attack and she appraised her surroundings. The room was bare, but for the bed she had risen from and a few boxes here and there. Disturbingly, the cave was gone; Caden’s eyes searched the gloom for obvious traps, and then stealthily approached the exit.

The doorway opened onto an unlit hallway and Caden inched warily towards muffled voices one man and one woman, whispering in urgent undertones.

‘How long do you think she’ll be out?’ the woman said, anxiously.

‘It was just a cut,’ replied the man, ‘She can’t have been hit that badly. Give her a few hours.’ Caden chanced a look through the open doorway.

The man and woman were busy cleaning, and didn’t notice Caden at all. They were both tall and slender, with peculiar similarities in their faces and carriage – Caden assumed they were related, even though the man had dark curls and the woman had long, brown, straight hair.

‘Thomas,’ began the woman, bending slightly to retrieve something from the ground, ‘You got blood all over my notebook.’

‘I did?’ the man, Thomas, crossed the room and leaned over her shoulder, ‘You sure it wasn’t that girl landing on it?’

‘No, look – there’s your thumbprint from where you were reading, see?’

‘Oh, so it is. Sorry.’ Thomas returned once more to picking up papers while the woman continued to stare at the book.

Thomas, who Caden weighed up as the stronger of the two, glanced over to the table where the papers where being collected. Caden followed his gaze, and beheld her sword.

Once the woman was within her reach, Caden swiftly grabbed her by the throat. The woman gave a stifled cry of shock and fear,

‘Amanda!’ The man attempted to come to the woman’s aid; but Caden had both her hands encircling Amanda’s neck.

‘Adveho propinquus quod ego mos effrego suus gutter!’ She warned. Thomas looked confused but the woman, however, spoke in a choked voice,

‘You’re speaking Latin!’

Caden supposed that Thomas couldn’t understand her words – so she used a different dialect,

‘Come closer,’ she snarled, ‘and I’ll snap her neck.’ Thomas seemed to comprehend her meaning this time, because he began to inch back – never taking his eyes from Amanda, ‘Hand me my sword.’ Caden commanded.

‘Let her go.’ replied Thomas. Caden smiled,

‘I want my sword. You will give it to me.’

‘Let my sister go.’ He said through clenched teeth.

‘Haud!’ they glared at each other. Amanda squirmed a little and Caden tightened her hold.

‘I do not need this woman.’ said Caden evenly, ‘I can kill her, and retrieve my sword from beneath your nose if I have to. Spare me the inconvenience of having to wash blood from my clothing again.’ Thomas looked at Amanda the fear etched in his features reflected in her face. Caden knew he would acquiesce when she saw his fear – sentimentality is so easy to manipulate.

Thomas raised the sword, and held it just out of Caden’s reach, stretching towards Amanda’s hand just as Caden had enclosed her fingers on the sword. The exchange was quick – Caden sheathed her sword and Amanda dropped her book in her effort to move more quickly from her attacker’s grasp.

Caden glared at Thomas. She felt she ought to kill him for his insolence; or at least remove a few of his fingers. She looked back down at the sword in her sheath, and her eyes strayed over the book lying open on the ground. She stood transfixed.

*

Amanda’s assailant stared at the book, fascinated, totally absorbed. Thomas began trying to shift Amanda towards the door, and his sister was all too compliant with the notion of leaving as soon as possible. Oh god, oh god, oh god… oh my frickin’ God!

The girl looked up, focusing her gaze on Amanda with a mixture of incredulity and intrigue. She bent over, snatched the book from the ground and began to read it more closely. Amanda was nervous. She was always nervous when her work was under such scrutiny – but now it seemed as if her critic might just stab her with a long, pointy sword if she didn’t like what she read.

‘Who are you people?’ the girl asked, perplexed. Amanda thought she could detect fear in her voice, ‘Why do you have my name in your book?’ she held it up, and Amanda could see the title – Caden.

‘Caden?’ said Amanda. Her mind went into overdrive, ‘Caden… speaking Latin… Caden… knew that sword was familiar.’

‘Amanda?’ Thomas said warily,

‘Caden is my heroine!’ she turned to the girl, ‘Your name is Caden?’

‘Yes.’ said the girl,

Amanda’s mind was working faster than she believed minds ought to. It couldn’t be possible – the line between fictional and factual story blurred. It sounded like something from a cartoon show or the Muppets. No… not her story – her character, her Caden. The all-too-important central character.

It would explain the cold, the earthquake and the Black Hole – at least it did to Amanda. She had just finished the part where Caden enters another dimension by reading Latin written in blood – then Thomas comes along, smears blood on her notes and reads them out loud. Chaos ensues – and then presto! One order of real life heroine with fries! Amanda looked around, and sighed. No fries.

Amanda began to pace, trying as best she could to explain her new revelation to Thomas and her heroine. Thomas looked at her as if she’d grown a tail, and Amanda quickly checked. No tail. That’s a relief! ‘I’m serious!’ she said earnestly,

‘No, you’re insane!’ replied Thomas,

‘You always say that!’

‘Enough!’ cried Caden. She drew her sword from its sheath and held it threateningly before the twins, ‘I am not a figure of imagination.’ She said aggressively, ‘You speak lies.’

Amanda drew nearer to Caden ‘I’m not lying!’ she pleaded. Her creative instinct knew Caden’s character; she would not strike until satisfied with real answers; she would never be satisfied with half truths and possibilities.

Thomas looked nervously at Amanda, signalling her to stay near him; but the big sword prevented that. Nice sword, just like I imagined it – Simple, classy and powerful.

‘Look at the book.’ She urged, ‘You can see the similarities can’t you? How could I know that stuff? How do you think you even got here?’ Amanda knew Caden could have no answers for this – only Amanda did. This was all weird but she instinctively knew that this was her story, her creation. She had meant to send Caden to another dimension – a Utopia, a perfect world. She had used the blood in the words, not only for a symbol of life, but also as a symbol for unity. After all, what human being doesn’t have blood, right?

*

Caden allowed Amanda’s words to swell around her. She did not believe for a moment that she was the figment of this simple minded creature’s imagination. She was better than that – better than this weak and stupid world she now found herself in. She had no doubt in her mind that she was no longer on Artenious. She also had no doubt that the Words in Blood were to be blame for her new surroundings. But Caden was not an imagined being – a mere flight of someone else’s fancy!

‘You are a deceiver.’ She said venomously, ‘I am no figment!’ she took Amanda by the neck and flung her against the wall. Thomas cried out and advanced to his sister’s aid. Caden was preparing to drive her sword deep into his gut, when –

‘Stop!’ Amanda screamed, ‘Kill either of us and you’ll never see Artenious again!’

Caden paused, before replying, ‘I will make my way in this world if I must.’

‘Yeah, that’ll work!’ Amanda’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she manoeuvred herself between Caden and Thomas, ‘This world is different from yours, Sweetie. You can’t kill someone for looking at you sideways here. We have better, more advanced weapons – the kind that make your pretty sword look like an itty-bitty letter opener. You wouldn’t last a day in this world.’

Caden paused once more to consider this new information. She could easily cut down anyone with a sword – but if the weapons were more advanced in this world, then she couldn’t be sure of victory. The first cardinal rule of survival – “Never fight unless you are sure that you can win”. Caden did not know a thing about this world and its customs. Unless assured of her self-preservation; it could only be better to return to Artenious. Caden was a living weapon – but she was not invincible.

‘I’ll not be deceived.’ she said slowly,

‘No one’s deceiving you.’ said Amanda soothingly, ‘Trust me; we want you gone just as much as you want to be gone.’

There was no real choice. ‘Very well.’ she said, sheathing her sword once more, ‘Prepare the magic. If you attempt to trick me I will destroy you.’

‘Fair enough.’ said Amanda. She turned to Thomas who stood struggling with the desire to protect his sister and an equal desire to escape. Caden could tell they were a weak breed of human, too co-dependent for strength.

She left them to their discussion and retraced her steps to the room she had awoken in. There she would wait to be transported back to the battle fields were she belonged.

*

Poor Thomas looked about ready to have a coronary by the time Caden left the room. You used to be so much stronger. Or is it that I’ve gotten stronger, while you remained the same?

Amanda moved quickly to the desk. She needed to act quickly and get Caden back in the book.

‘You don’t really think that she’s the character you made up,’ Thomas asked, grappling with the logic, ‘Do you?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She replied simply as she began to pour her mind onto the paper.

‘But that’s not possible!’ said Thomas,

‘Clearly it’s possible, Thomas, she was just in our computer room.’ Duh! ‘Don’t ask questions that don’t need answering, Sweetie. Instead of asking me whether or not she’s real – ask me how I’m gonna get rid of her.’

Thomas had a very logical mind – but he wasn’t an idiot. He asked how she was going to get rid of her.

‘Don’t know.’ said Amanda. She sat in thought for a few moments with Thomas pacing restlessly around her. I’d almost have to recreate the spell that brought her here. That means I’ll need lots of –

‘Blood.’ She said finally.

Thomas stared for a moment, ‘Blood?’ he said weakly,

‘Blood.’ She replied. She stood up and strode into the kitchen with Thomas in tow.

‘If you don’t mind my asking,’ he said hesitantly, ‘Why blood? Why not hair… or… I don’t know…fingernails?’

‘Blood is the human life force,’ Amanda replied patiently, ‘it’s something every human has in common, and it sustains us – it’s the reason we exist. It connects generations, families – the whole world… why do you think it’s so effective in horror movies? That’s someone’s life splattered all over the walls – that’s someone’s future and dreams and potential staining the knife and dripping through the planks of wood… If there’s one thing that speaks to Caden – its screaming horror and bloodshed... of course its blood, Thomas; what else could it be?’

While she was speaking, Amanda was rummaging through the drawers to find something sharp.

‘That’s really deep and all – but it’s kind of creepy. You do realise how creepy you’re sounding right now, don’t you?’

Amanda ignored him.

The large carving knife seemed much too cliché-horror-movie. Instead – Amanda drew out a simple, sharp, cutting knife and a metal bowl. Thomas took one look at the knife and let out a squeak,

‘It’s our blood, isn’t it?’ he asked,

‘Straight up.’ said Amanda with a wicked grin. ‘Trust me, Thomas.’

‘I do, Manda.’ he replied simply and that name she hadn’t heard since before her parent’s death washed over her. She smiled and Thomas grinned back.

Taking the knife, the bowel and some bandages back into the computer room, she turned to Thomas, ‘Set up the computer, will you? I’m gonna have to translate some stuff really fast.’

‘Online Translators?’

‘Please-and-Thankyou.’ Amanda took the knife and knelt on the floor near the wall.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Thomas nervously.

‘Where do you think blood comes from, Sweetie?’

‘You can’t cut yourself! There are arteries in your wrists, Amanda. People will think…’ he trailed off. Amanda knew what he was thinking – she’d been there before. Like you can talk! You had school work and stuff – I needed a release too!

‘Where would you suggest, then?’ she asked, her tone deliberately even. Thomas was silent for a moment, before he replied,

‘Make it the palm. You can blame it on a broken glass or something – it’s more discrete. Why couldn’t you write about Care Bears? There’s no blood in Care Bears!’

Amanda cursed silently as the blade cut her skin. It hurt, but she was used to the pain, and took it in her stride – pouring the precious liquid from the wound into the bowl before her. I need more.

‘I don’t have enough.’ she said quietly. Thomas looked up and sighed in resignation.

‘Give me a sec.’ he finally said. Amanda dressed her cut quietly, and then set the bowl and the knife on the floor.

‘When you’re ready.’ she said.

*

The Light Orb in this world was smaller than the one in Artenious; though decidedly brighter. Caden could hear birds twittering. It had been years since she’d heard birds – she used to find the sound soothing; like cleaning her sword, or stretching her muscles before a battle. She’d almost forgotten the sound.

Caden’s ears twitched. Birds were not the only thing she could hear – she heard footsteps in the hallway. She seized her sword in time for the door to click open. Amanda stood in the doorway for a moment before Caden had her by the neck and thrust against the wall.

Amanda gave a squeak of pain, but did not fight back, reconciled to this form of greeting, ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to attack people?’ she asked calmly. Caden relinquished her hold on the little woman; but she brandished her sword at her. She was far from trusting Amanda.

‘What has taken so long?’ Caden asked impatiently,

‘Chill out, we’re getting there – Thomas is giving blood as we speak.’

Caden had thought she could smell blood before – but she had just assumed that it was in her hair, or on her sword.

‘I just thought I’d let you know –’ said Amanda, ‘that we’ll probably need some of your blood.’ Amanda could probably see that this was displeasing to Caden, because she went on hurriedly, ‘Just a little bit – a mixture of blood will give it more potency. There may be a few side effects, but all in all – ’

‘Side effects?’ Caden said suspiciously.

‘Yeah – not too sure about those.’ Amanda looked unfazed. Caden refused to be deceived by these inferior humans. She raised her sword and Amanda threw her arms into the air and gave a weak laugh. ‘What I mean is, I’m not sure what they are, and I’ll have to think about it.’ She paused. ‘Are you hungry? I’m starving.’ She took Caden’s hand – the gesture alone would have resulted in Amanda losing much of her arm; but Caden did feel hungry and also felt some curious connection with this strange woman – allowing herself to be dragged to another room where food was prepared. She felt slightly mollified in this unknown.

‘Sorry, I’m a bit of a nervous eater,’ said Amanda, ‘if you had some character from a book you were writing emerge and try to kill you, you’d be nervous too.’ She slipped two thin slices of white bread into a small metal box and began rummaging through cupboards, ‘Now, those side effects I mentioned? Yeah – not a clue. No idea what might happen. I do know that something will; because that’s the way the world works. You can’t have something for nothing – there’s always a price. I just don’t know who will have to pay it – you, me or Thomas.’

‘Nothing happened when I came here.’ said Caden slowly.

‘You weren’t on the receiving end. Lots of weird and wonderful stuff happened to us before you showed up.’ Caden had had about enough of this stranger. She picked up a large, heavy knife, and was about to silence her; when a loud pop sounded on the other side of the room.

Instinctively, Caden turned and aimed her knife at the source of the disturbance; landing it squarely in the centre of the small metal box. A fizzling noise sounded from within it, and thin smoke spiralled from the holes where Amanda had placed the bread. Caden was satisfied that whatever it was, she had killed it.

‘Holy Crap!’ cried Amanda indignantly, ‘What did the toaster ever do to you, huh?’ she lifted the box and peered inside, before gingerly setting it back down. ‘Sandwiches it is, then.’ she said, glaring at Caden. She removed several items of food from the large white cupboard to her left, ‘Have to get Thomas to have a look at that. Sometimes it’s a good thing that he’s such a genius – he’s pretty handy… still…’ she trailed off and sighed. When she started talking again, she was mostly talking to herself, forgetting Caden was there.

‘He didn’t used to be handy. He used to be such a huge klutz. I used to hate it, you know? He was my twin brother and he was so embarrassing! And he’d always go around telling people that he was born four minutes before I was – which made him the “big brother”!’ She paused, deep in thought, ‘Now, though… now I’m living for the moments when he breaks something or something goes wrong just so I can see him for who he used to be! Sometimes I just wish he’d treat me like a little sister – even if he’s scolding me or pulling my hair – I don’t care! I want things back the way they were; I want him back the way he was – But he’s never going to be that way… not completely.’ She stood for a moment, a silent tear flowing down her cheek.

Caden didn’t particularly care about this woman’s brother. All she cared about was the fact that the food preparation had ceased. She moved closer to Amanda to continue to make the sandwiches. Amanda wiped a tear from her eye and sniffed.

When she spoke again, her tone was very business-like, ‘Anyway, about the blood –’

‘I don’t trust you.’ said Caden. ‘Why should I bleed for you?’

‘Because,’ said Amanda, patiently, ‘I have to recreate the chain of events that brought you here. Blood from your world – that’s you. Blood from Thomas, because he bled on my notes – and my blood.’

Caden was confused, ‘Where does your blood come into it?’

‘Oh – that’s just in the poetry of it. I’m writing the story; I’ve used all the power of my imagination – in a sense; your world and everything in it is a part of me.’

‘I am not a figment of your imagination!’ said Caden indignantly – very tempted to retrieve her knife.

‘It’s just the logic I’m using.’ said Amanda, soothingly, ‘don’t worry about it; it’s completely random – I know this. All I need is a little of your blood so I can send you back, OK?’

Caden did not answer. Instead, she finished making the sandwich and took a large bite out of it.

Amanda looked pleased, placed two more sandwiches on a plate and bid Caden to follow her.

She led her to the room that was once strewn with papers – the papers were cleared, and the table and chairs pushed into the corner. Thomas was sitting cross-legged on the floor, fumbling with a bandage on his hand. Caden saw out of the corner if her eye that Amanda smiled indulgently before going to his rescue.

Caden supposed that this show of weakness and idiocy was what Amanda was talking about – the times when her brother was back to his old self. Caden thought that Amanda must be very lonely to live for moments like these – and spared her a short moment of pity before pushing it from her mind – disgusting, human weakness.

*

Everything comes at a price. What price would she and Thomas have to pay to get rid of Caden? She moved to the computer and began typing in some of the words she thought she may use for the “Going-back” incantation into the online translation guide.

To her right, Caden was pouring blood into the bowl from a cut on her right palm. She didn’t seem to be in any pain; instead, she was eyeing Thomas suspiciously as he watched her cautiously. She’s a tough little cookie.

Amanda tried to think of what could possibly happen once Caden was back in her world – what would be the karmic payback that one of them would have to endure? Her palm kept throbbing in pain and it made it hard for her to think. She absently watched the gruesome sight before her – then the thought struck her –

‘The Blood!’ Amanda exclaimed. Both Thomas and Caden turned their attention onto her with expectant looks on their faces, but Amanda held up her hand to stop them from speaking while she gathered her thoughts.

Blood is the human life force – yet they were mixing three different life forces together to create the portal for Caden’s return.

Amanda stood and started pacing, thinking aloud, ‘In my story, blood was a connector – so maybe if we mix all of our blood together, we’ll be connected in some way too. That would mean that Caden might have some sort of side-effect to do with that connection.’

Caden’s eyes narrowed, ‘Such as?’ she said suspiciously,

Amanda shrugged, ‘Could be anything. You could hear our thoughts – or you might feel our moods. You might get our Blood Memories –’

‘What’s that?’ asked Thomas, bewildered,

‘Well, I was looking at some of your Bio textbooks a few weeks back, looking at the composition of blood –’ Oh yeah, this girl does her research!, ‘ – and there was this part about the DNA of a human. How all our ancestors contributed to who we are, and it’s all written in our DNA. It got me thinking – what if memories and things were carried in your DNA? Would that mean that all the memories of our ancestors are somewhere, embedded inside of us?’

‘That sounds dumb.’

‘So,’ Caden interrupted, ‘You claim that I may have memories of your forefathers?’

Once again, Amanda shrugged, ‘Maybe, they call it inherited memory. Or you might see things from two-or-three perspectives.’ This may be a problem. ‘Do you have any problem with being connected with us?’

Caden sneered, ‘What you are saying is foolish. I don’t believe you.’

‘I sort of agree with freaky-warrior chick.’ said Thomas reluctantly, ‘You can be deep and poetic all you like, but it doesn’t make much sense.’

‘Do not plague me with your idle fears of what may happen. I will not concern myself with trivial matters designed to prevent me from devoting my full attention to returning to Artenious.’

Thomas looked at Caden warily, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Crazy bitch…’

Amanda decided not to press the matter. It was all a bit too much. I need chocolate.

She moved back to the computer and typed in an entire poem off the top of her head for translation.

‘Caden,’ she said, ‘I’m going to need you to write on the wall.’

‘Hold on!’ said Thomas quickly. He took an A3 sheet of paper from the pile on the desk and used Blu Tack to stick it to the wall. Obviously, he was the practical one. The computer made a satisfied beep.

‘I’m going to need you to write with the blood.’ continued Amanda, ‘But you have to use your fingers – you have to get the blood on your hands. Thomas, you too – get some blood on your finger – don’t be such a girl, it’s not going to bite you! Here, Caden – write this.’ Amanda scribbled the poem onto the corner of a sheet of paper and handed it to Caden. She studied it for a moment, before dipping her forefinger into the bowl. She wrote steadily for a person who’s right hand was dripping with gore.

When she was done, Amanda said ‘Now, read it aloud!’

‘“Sevn dies incidere tergum ut a nox noctis,
Revert out rerstri universitas, ut trunco quod pugna.
Nostrum ago have pulsatus, Nostrum crour est unis –
Vestri vicis huic universitas est super quod perfectus.’”

Amanda and Thomas both doubled over in pain at the last word. Amanda’s first coherent thought was that someone was twisting a knife in her belly. Again the house shook on its foundations, and they were both blown to opposite sides of the room by a force that originated somewhere near Caden and the Words in Blood. Chairs toppled over and the room erupted with a roar of wind filled with screams of dying men.

Amanda knocked her head against the wall and her world dissolved into darkness…

*

Caden landed painfully on her back, disorientated from the force of the blast that had knocked her off her feet. She lifted herself onto her elbows – and gasped.

She was lying on the ground in her camp. Captain Fallon was barking orders to a group of Fledglings nearby – people were busily preparing for the day’s battle.

Caden’s mind swam – had it been a dream? She raised her right hand up to eye level; there was a small slash in her palm, and dried blood caked onto her fingertips. Thoughts whirled in her head like a storm of dust just settling – she could smell the sweat of her comrades around her; she could taste the dirt and grit in the air and feel the rocks under her back.

As her senses returned and the storm settled in her mind, Caden stood, and a thought came unbidden: what is the point of this? It had floated across her mind as gently as a feather from a bird’s wing. She shook her head to clear it.

‘Caden?’ she focused her gaze on Captain Fallon as he addressed her, ‘Are you ready?’

She was on the point of answering in the affirmative, when another thought fluttered quietly before her: are you ready to snuff out existence for no reason, other than because you are told to?

‘One moment, sir.’ she said slowly. She tried to collect her thoughts as he moved on – but the Fledgling, Klaus, had taken his place,

‘Hello, Caden!’ he said cheerfully. He seemed ready to kill and destroy – to inflict pain on whoever crossed his path on the battlefield.

That’s horrible. This thought didn’t just cross her mind – it soared into her perception.

‘Are you alright, Caden?’

Caden shook her head vigorously, but couldn’t seem to shake the two weak, lowly humans that had forced themselves into her consciousness. These must be the Memories – the thoughts and perceptions Amanda had spoken of.

Caden turned and strode purposefully in the direction of the cliff she had scaled the previous night. Klaus shouted after her – but she ignored him.

Her senses seemed magnified. She could hear the dirt and rocks crunching beneath her feet and the worms in the earth. She felt everything – all the confusion, bitterness, annoyance… all the pain… all around her was pain – it screamed at her and engulfed her like thick smoke. She knew she had been part of the cause. The thought horrified and thrilled her.

Klaus was following her. He seized her arm – she retaliated with a swift knife-hand strike to the throat that left him coughing and wheezing on the ground. She was at the point of drawing her sword to deliver the killing blow, when she stopped; arrested by conflicting emotions. The fear in Klaus’s eyes drew her pity as well as her amusement.

‘I’m sorry.’ She said quietly, turning her back on him. She stared out into the horizon, and looked down from the edge of the cliff face. It was a longer way down than she remembered. She could only just make out the rotting carcass of one of the enemy. Or was it a comrade? She couldn’t tell.

I cannot live this way, she thought – this time knowing that the thought was her own; I cannot live in a conflict that makes me hesitate when I should kill without question. By mixing their blood, Amanda had introduced a wave of weak, sympathetic opposition to all that she had been taught. That resistance would eventually get her killed on a battlefield – she would hesitate to kill when the enemy would not.

Caden stretched her arms wide and allowed the Light Orb to fill her with warmth, her toes curled over the edge of the cliff face. She heard the twittering of birds and saw their flight on a distant horizon.

‘This is the weakness of our species!’

Caden closed her eyes, and flew forward into oblivion.

*

‘Holy Crap!’ exclaimed Thomas, peering at the computer screen where Amanda had just finished typing, ‘You killed her?’

‘She killed herself.’ said Amanda sadly,

‘But…’ Thomas shook his head, ‘…huh?’

’There was nothing else for her to do.’ Amanda explained. She saved her work and rose from her chair, turning to Thomas as she reached the door. She asked tentatively, ‘Do you ever wonder… whether my pulling Caden’s strings – means that someone out there is pulling ours?’

Thomas still looked stricken at the story’s ending. Amanda sighed and turned her back on him, ‘You can’t go back, Sweetie,’ she said sadly, ‘You can’t go back to what you were… no matter how much you want to.’

Thomas watched her leave and called after her ‘It’ll be alright, Kid. Just don’t get too weird on me,’ but he didn’t feel like laughing.

*

Loki flexed his fingers and chuckled!