Ordinary Joe and the Mark of Four

The portal opened into nowhere and Joe tumbled out screaming. The gate flickered and vanished in the air above him and then he was falling, whipped by wind, spinning over and over. Snatches of a forest flashed below and suddenly he was crashing through thick, rubbery leaves. Branches clawed at him and he toppled from leaf to leaf, finally thumping to the forest floor. Purple grass pressed against his cheek and a few leaves fluttered down around him, until everything was quiet and still. He lay on the ground for a while, letting his breathing slow and waiting for his heart to stop thumping. He ached all over, but slowly moved his arms and his legs, relieved to find nothing broken. Carefully he sat up.

It was hot, but not like summer at home, when sunlight burned everyone lobster red. This was a different kind of heat; a thick treacle sinking into his bones. It reminded Joe of the butterfly house he’d visited with the school. It had the same smell too; sweet, like oranges. He pulled off his coat and hat, then his jumper, which he tied around his waist, and stuffed his gloves into a pocket.

He remembered the cans of Sprangle Mr Zhang had forced onto him and dug around in his coat until he found one. It was deliciously cold, tasting like cherries and custard, and he gulped it down greedily.

He tried to make sense of what was happening. His mind flashed up images of Dragons and Wytches, Flake speaking to him and his Aunt and Uncle fighting like warriors. His hated cousin was his sworn protector and now he’d travelled through a magic gate into another world. It was ridiculous. Maybe he was dreaming after all, what other explanation could there be? But it was cruel dream, teasing him that his parents were still alive. It was a dream he’d had before but it always ended the same way. He woke up and they were dead. No dream could fix that. His heart sank. He hadn’t known them. Uncle Marty had told him about the accident that took their lives but it was a story about strangers. He pushed the thoughts away.

Above him, glowing bugs circled the brightly coloured leaves of the trees. Thick blue trunks sprouted from the ground, disappearing into a canopy of vibrant colours; gold and orange and purple and red. Fat multi-coloured fruit hung from branches, big as footballs, shining in the scattered sunlight.

He rummaged in his coat for something to eat. Among the crisps Mr Zhang had given him, the least worrying was Mince Pie flavour. He pulled them open and began to eat. They were horrible, but he ate them anyway.

Around the trees were lots of odd looking bushes and shrubs, all brightly coloured. Some had spiky leaves with silvery veins, others were small and golden, and all were peppered with small round berries as if someone had scattered them with sweets.

Even the thick grass was different colours; red and purple and orange and blue. It tingled against his hands and he noticed tiny sparks running along each blade. Snatching his hand away , he turned it over in front of his face, relieved to find it unmarked. A flat hand print where he had been leaning glowed brighter than the grass around it, but the blades slowly unfurled and the glow faded until there was no sign he’d been there at all.

He stood up, wincing at his aching body. What had Kinga called this place? Antigol? Where was that? Somewhere in Poland? He stepped closer to one of the trees. The same tiny sparks ran around the bark. It was everywhere, on every bush and flower and branch.

Munching on his crisps, he began to hum a small tune. It wasn’t a tune he’d heard before, just three notes rising and falling, mixed around into different patterns. He stopped humming. Where had he heard it before? Was it a song his Aunt played in the house? Or something from the radio? The tune continued. It was coming from behind him.

Joe spun around but there was nothing there except the forest. The song drifted through the trees. It sounded like a flute. Why would someone be playing a flute? Was it a Polish thing? Did they sit in forests playing flutes all day? The hypnotic song drifted on. He was about to follow it when he remembered Kinga’s instructions. Do not move. Stay. He frowned. The tune was calling out for him to follow it and he wanted to see where it was coming from. It sounded close and Kinga didn’t know where the gate had dropped him. Anyway, she couldn’t tell him what to do. He’d be careful. Besides, why would anything dangerous be playing a flute?

Snatching up his coat, he set off along a small path through the trees, following the song. Every now and again he stopped and waited, listening carefully, before setting off again, the tune growing louder with every step. Eventually the trees led to a small clearing, bright with sunshine. He stepped into the open and the tune stopped, though the clearing was empty. Holding his breath, he stood listening, hoping it would start up again, but no sound came. He was about to turn back when a movement in the branches caught his eye. The leaves shook and a strange plant-like creature appeared. Its head was like a boiled egg, split in two and opening and closing, drifting forward on a long leafy vine. It sang the song Joe had heard, its head swaying in time to the tune. He took a step forwards and it whipped back into the trees in alarm, mouth snapping shut. Joe laughed,

“It’s alright,” he said, “Come on, I won’t hurt you.” Slowly, nervously, the plant reappeared. Its head jerked back a few times, sniffing the air. Joe looked at the bag of crisps,

“What? You want one of these?” He took a crisp from the bag and held it out. The plant swayed left and right for a second, then darted forward, snatching the crisp. It crunched it madly and then tipped up its head and sang out three long notes. From the trees more plants emerged, approaching carefully, singing the same three note tune. Joe held out another crisp and it was snatched away. More plants appeared.

“I don’t think I’ve got enough for all of you,” Joe said. Suddenly a plant darted forward and snapped at the bag. Another joined it, and in a flash snatched the crisps from his hand, hungry mouths clamping onto the bag, tearing it open, scattering crisps onto the ground. The plants lunged after them, chomping up grass and dirt, barging each other aside. In seconds the crisps were gone. When they finished snuffling for scraps they turned their attention back to Joe.

“All gone,” he said holding up his hands. The plants moved closer, mouths snapping slowly, swaying from side to side. Joe took a step back but his foot was caught. To his horror, a plant curled around his ankle. He tried to shake his leg free but the plant wound tighter. “Hey! Get off me!”

More plants shot forward, circling his wrists and arms. Others wound themselves tightly around his legs. He tried to break away but they clung on, curling even tighter. A vine wrapped around his neck and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

The plants lifted him into the air. He struggled wildly, trying to shout for help but only managing a choked gasp. The other plants began to sing, louder than before, swaying from side to side; the same three notes over and over. Suddenly the pain in his chest returned and at the edge of the clearing a tall fan of purple and green leaves rustled and burst open.

Behind them was another plant, much bigger than the others, almost twice the size of Joe himself. Its mouth opened revealing row upon row of small triangular teeth, and at the back of its throat three fluted stems pulsed. It began to sing. The song boomed loud and deep, the same three notes, faster and faster as he was carried towards it. The vines around his neck squeezed tighter and a wave of dizziness washed over him. Everything blurred. The pain in his chest pounded harder, as if something was trying to break out, and the world drifted away. He couldn’t feel the pain in his arms and legs anymore and the song grew faint until it was only a low murmur.

Suddenly - air! His lungs sucked it in desperately, so fast it burned his throat, and then he was falling, gasping, to the ground. Big black dots flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t hear the plant’s song anymore. Instead, a familiar cursing voice.

“Pozostawić go!”

Kinga!

His cousin spun around the clearing like a whirlwind. She slid under snapping vines and leapt up into the branches, kicking back against tree trunks to somersault through the air, her sword flashing around her and scattering pieces of plant into the forest. She looked like a warrior, but wearing a Cardenfield Primary school uniform.

At the edge of the clearing the giant plant bellowed, a long angry howl, and thrashed from side to side. It rose on a single root, as thick as the trees around it, and pulled itself from the ground. The smaller plants fled, leaving Kinga kneeling in the centre of the clearing, one hand pressed to the ground and her sword held back ready to strike.

The giant plant rushed her, faster than Joe would have thought possible, and Kinga jumped. Something was wrong and a flash of red caught his eye. The cut on her arm was bleeding. Her face was angry and determined but she winced and was a fraction of a second too slow. The plant caught her hip, sending her tumbling into a tree. She fell to the floor winded and the plant leapt, its fanged mouth wide to bite her in two. At the last second it snapped shut an inch from her face and fell bewildered to the ground. Joe was clinging to its long roots, holding it back with all his strength. It was only a second’s pause, but it was all Kinga needed. She sprang up, landing on the plants head, and with a yell plunged her sword through its thick skin. A spray of yellow sap gushed into the air. She quickly pulled the blade free, ready for a second strike, but the plant wailed, lurching back, and threw her off. It thrashed on the ground, whipping free of Joe’s grip, leaving long burns across his palms. Kinga was on her feet again, shielding Joe, but the giant plant was fleeing. Easier prey than small angry girls with swords could be found in the forest. Trumpeting angrily, it burst through the trees and was gone.

Joe slumped to the ground exhausted. His hands stung and his arms felt as if they had been pulled out of their sockets. Every breath he took clawed its way down his throat. If this was a dream, it was a painful one. He watched Kinga prowling the clearing like a panther. Every muscle in her body moved in rhythm. Could she really be the same hobbling girl he’d known in Cardenfield?

“Who are you?” he said. Kinga relaxed, satisfied the danger had passed, and slipped her sword into her belt.

“Kinga Sobanski, get up.” She wasn’t even out of breath. Joe’s hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his shirt stuck to his armpits. Kinga was dry as a bone. He tried to stand but his legs wobbled and he collapsed back to the ground. She let him rest, but took his wrists, turning up the palms and inspecting them carefully.

“Not die,” she said, letting them fall. She pointed a finger at him angrily, “Told to stay.”

“I heard a noise and… “

“Tak, tak, idiota,” She pulled at his wrists, helping him up. He stumbled, clutching her arm for support, and she winced. The cut on her shoulder had stopped bleeding, but it looked horrible.

“You’re hurt,” Joe said. She glanced at the wound and dismissed it with a shrug,

“Nothing. Soon mend,” she said, “You stand now?” Slowly she let go of his hands and he wobbled but managed to stay on his feet. His throat stung and his body ached in too many places to count, but it was nothing compared to her wound.

“I’ll be okay,” he said.

“Good. We must go soon.” She began to search through the bushes, breaking off leaves and flowers. She made no sound and though every branch had snagged Joe as if the whole forest recognised him as an intruder, she was untouched.

“Is this where you come from?” he said. She carried on searching and when she answered every word sounded like a chore,

“No, not my home. From Poland. This another world. Antigol. Your home.” He laughed. Surely she knew how crazy she sounded. He couldn’t believe any of it. Before today the most exciting thing in his life was if a stray dog got loose in the playground. She had to be joking. Kinga saw his smile and marched up to him angrily.

“If a dream, wake!” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, “Idiota!” Grumbling, she stuffed the leaves and flowers into her mouth. She munched them for a while, glaring at Joe, and spat the mush into her hand.

“Give hands,” she said. Joe backed away in disgust.

“No chance! That’s gross!” Kinga snarled and snatched his wrist, so fast he barely saw her move, and before he could protest she mashed the chewed up slush into his palm. He was about to drag his hand away but stopped in amazement. The pain from his burns suddenly vanished, as if the horrible gunk was sucking it from his hands. Kinga began chewing more leaves, rubbing the green paste on his other palm. In seconds the pain was gone. She spat out a fresh batch of the paste and smeared it onto her own cuts.

“How did you know how to do that?” Joe said.

“Learn. To protect you.” As usual she was annoyed at him. He pulled at a leaf, feeling the sparks run over his fingers. She was so sure it was real, but it was too weird.

“What’s this electric stuff? It’s on everything.” Kinga shook her head,

“Not electric. Majia. You say Magic. Power. In everything. No Majia on Earth.” Joe let the leaf go,

“You used it. Against the dragon. You were like..” He pointed his hands and made a lightning bolt noise. Kinga’s scowl deepened,

“Should not have,” she said, “No Majia on Earth. No-one can use. I am… different.” She looked him in the eye, “A freak. Cannot control. Dangerous.” She shivered, “Worse here. Hard to control. Could hurt you.” For the first time she smiled, “But, all you got.”

“What about the dragons and Wytches?” Joe said. None of it made any sense. If there was no ‘Majia’ on Earth, where had they come from?

“Not last there,” Kinga said, “Weak. Soon die.” Joe’s face brightened,

“So we can go back?”

“Back?”

“To Earth. Home.” Her eyes flashed angrily,

“Not go back. Find Maven. Will help us. You are… chosen.” She said it with disgust, as if she didn’t really believe it. He didn’t believe it either. She must think he was someone else.

“What about my Uncle and Aunt?!” he said, “We have to go back and make sure they’re alright.” Kinga shrugged,

“May be okay. May be dead. What difference? Nothing you can do now.” Joe watched her coldly.

“Don’t you care about anything?” She let out a shriek of frustration and clacked her hands like mouths,

“Czat! Czat! No more talk! No more questions! Maven will answer. Now we go!” She headed off into the forest, grumbling, and Joe watched her for a second, not sure he wanted to follow. Dream or not, the plants had hurt him, and he doubted he’d last five minutes without her. What choice did he have? He hurried after Kinga, catching on every branch.

“You said that name before,” he said, “Who’s Maven?” It was a struggle to keep up as she slipped through the forest. She answered without turning,

“Powerful man. Made the gate for us. Can help you.” Joe sped up to walk beside her,

“So he could make a gate for me to go home?” He thought she might snap at him again, but if she was annoyed she hid it. Joe didn’t care. Maven could get him home. “We should find him.”

“No. He will find us. We go to Hatriila, your Father’s kingdom. Safe for you there.” Joe stopped walking,

“Stop saying that! My parents are dead. They died when I was little.” Kinga stopped walking. When she turned her face was furious.

“I am orphan!” she shouted, “Not true for you. Your parents alive. Understand. Here, in Antigol. Should be happy.” Her cheeks burned and she cursed, turning her face away.

“I’m sorry,” Joe said, “I didn’t mean…” He couldn’t think of anything to say. Something terrible happened to Kinga’s parents before she came to Cardenfield. His Uncle told him they were dead. “Uncle said there was an accident.”

“No. Not accident,” Kinga said, “I killed them. Come.” Joe watched her go. How had he ended up with this crazy girl? He wished Reece and Sam were with them. His eyes widened.

“Hey! Wait! What about the others?” Kinga looked puzzled,

“Others?

“Reece and Sam. I can’t believe I forgot them!” Kinga carried on walking,

“Better just two.” She said it flatly, as if leaving them behind meant nothing.

“We have to find them. They might be hurt!” If Kinga hadn’t arrived he’d be dead by now. What if Reece had stumbled across the weird, singing plants?

“I am protector. Safer just us.” Joe refused to follow and she stopped, looking angry and frustrated.

“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for them.” Kinga glared at him,

“No time! You cannot live here! Die, quickly!” She stalked back and prodded his chest, “Pain, yes?” Joe pushed her away,

“How do you know about that?”

“Maven will explain. No time now.”

“Well I’m not going without them. It isn’t right.” Her eyes bore into him but he held her gaze. She cursed.

“Too dangerous!” She wasn’t going to give in. Her job was to protect him and she knew this place. If she said it was too dangerous then it probably was. But he couldn’t abandon them.

“Alright,” he said, “I’ll find them myself, and since you’re my protector you’ll have to help me.” She snorted in amusement,

“Okay. Go.” She waved her hand at the forest. Joe glanced around for a path to follow. It all looked the same. He wasn’t even sure where they had come from. Kinga leaned against a tree and smiled at him. But then a strange noise rang out across the canopy and the smile fell from her lips. She was alert again, moving across to grab Joe’s hand. They stood listening. A loud ringing echoed across the forest, like hundreds of bells chiming at the same time. Kinga pulled Joe into the trees towards it.

“What is it?” he said.

“Your friend,” she said, “Doing something stupid.”

The ringing led them straight to Reece and Sam. Kinga burst from the bushes and stormed over to Reece, who was running along a row of hanging flowers and hitting them with a stick. They rang out like church bells. Kinga shoved Reece away from the plants and grabbed the stick,

“Idiota!” she said and threw it into the bushes.

Sam was sitting on a log, his head in his hands, rocking backwards and forwards,

“Told to stop! Told to stop! Not listen! Bad boy!” Seeing Joe, he jumped up and rushed over, hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe. “Not hurt! Not hurt!” He spun Joe around, checking him for injuries. Joe laughed,

“I’m fine Sam. Honestly!” Sam stepped back and grinned,

“Not die today!”

“Still time,” Kinga said. Reece glared at her.

“She shoved me!” he said, “No-one shoves me!” Kinga ignored him and turned to Joe,

“Now we go?” He nodded. She was right. Making so much noise was stupid, but he was so happy to see Reece and Sam, he couldn’t help smiling.

“Who put her in charge anyway?” Reece said, “I was only having a bit of fun!” Kinga rolled her eyes,

“Always break rules,” she said, “Never listen.”

“So? I don’t care what you say, you’re not the boss of me.”

“Will care ! Break rules here, die !” Reece kicked the ground,

“She’s not good for my condition,” he said, “I’ve got anger management issues.” Kinga raised her eyebrows at Joe,

“Not dangerous you say. No risk you say. Hah! Lucky no-one else hear.”

“Not that lucky little girl,” said a menacing voice behind her.