Ordinary Joe and the Mark of Four

Joe read the letter twice. He pored over the information, re-reading sections which confused or angered him, until the words on the page swam before his eyes and he had to stop. The sounds of the forest fell away and he sat heavily on the floor, finding it hard to breathe. To his surprise tears rolled down his face. He turned his back to the fire, hoping the others were asleep and hadn’t seen him crying. He was shaking. The effect of the letter amazed him. There were plenty of children in school whose parents had split up, or orphans who never knew their real families. They all dealt with it differently. Some retreated into themselves, barely speaking to anyone and never, ever wanting to talk about it. Others went off the rails, lashing out at everyone and everything, suffering from what the teachers called “Behavioural Problems”, when really it was “Family Problems”, because they didn’t have one anymore. Joe hadn’t reacted at all. There were a few other foster kids in school and sometimes they talked about their parents, wondering if they were alive somewhere, fantasising they were rich and famous or someone on TV. But Joe was never curious. He knew he should be interested, but the truth was he didn’t care. So why did he feel so terrible? His home was 62 South Street and Uncle Marty and Aunt Tina were his family. Except they weren’t his family at all.

A wave of panic shook him and he took a deep breath, a horrible question rising in his mind before he could block it out. Did his Uncle and Aunt really love him or were they just working for his father, keeping Joe safe. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes and he blinked them back angrily. He remembered Christmases and birthdays and holidays on the coast. He remembered Uncle Marty sitting up and playing Monopoly with him through the night when he had earache, and Aunt Tina sitting by his bed and forcing him to eat soup when he was ill. It was a stupid question. Of course they loved him.

But now it felt as if someone were closing a fist around his heart. He couldn’t ignore his father’s words. I do not know if you can forgive us. He wanted to be angry; to rip the letter into pieces. But he didn’t need to forgive them because he didn’t really blame them. Maybe it was the stories his Uncle told him about them, before the accident. They were only stories, but his Uncle described his parents vividly, with such a shine in his eyes, Joe knew part at least was true. His parents were alive, here in this ridiculous world, and he should be excited; should want to find them, talk to them, wrap his arms around them. But all he could think about was his room in Cardenfield, and the happy, smiling faces of his Uncle and Aunt.

He folded up the letter and tried to calm down. For every question answered, a dozen more took its place. He was a prince. It was such a ridiculous idea he let out a short laugh, then fell quickly silent, listening in case the others had heard. Except for the crackling of the fire, there was no sound. He relaxed. Prince Johlen. Even his name was made up. Johlen. He whispered it to himself a few times and decided he would stick with Joe, determined to hang on to as much of his old life as he could.

He raised a hand to his chest and shivered. Was it true? Was there really something inside him? His chest felt normal, but he recalled the pain when the Wytches arrived and the strange singing plants attacked him. He remembered thinking it would burst open when the Queen attacked, as if the thing inside him were trying to escape, desperate to break out. He almost wished it had. He imagined it inside him, asleep for ten years, but now waking up. He shuddered. The King held it for thirty years, but in the end it wore him down, until he was too weak to carry it any longer. Was that why Joe felt sick all the time? Why waves of dizziness could break over him for no reason at all? Was the Majiak killing him?

His face hardened. He didn’t care about their strange prophecy or his stupid birthmark they called the mark of four. If there was a power inside him he wanted it gone. Avarat could have it for all he cared. Get it over with. He muttered the name again. Avarat. His brother.

A noise shook him from his thoughts and he looked round. At the far side of the clearing Reece woke up, taking a few moments to remember where he was and yelling at Maven, who held his arms, trying to calm him. Eventually he stopped shouting and Maven let him go. His hand raised to his burned face and he flinched when his fingers found the deep red scar.

“My head’s killing me!” he said. Maven sat beside him and began peeling a blue fruit with a small curved blade.

“It came off, but we sewed it back on,” he said. He held out a wedge of the fruit, pink inside with small red pips, which Reece accepted hesitantly, keeping his eyes on the man. Maven smiled, “Not really.” Reece chewed the fruit and looked around. Kinga was sitting a few feet away, propped up against a tree and running a small cloth over the edge of a sword. Maven must have given it to her, to replace the old one she shattered on the giant’s back. How had they escaped? Most likely the hound and his slave fled at the sight of the Queen. Why would they waste time with the others when it was Joe they were after.

“You’re Mr Zhang, the newsagent,” said Reece, glancing at Kinga, “But she called you Maven.” Maven nodded and dipped a hand into his pocket. He pulled out a bar of chocolate and broke off a piece. Reece stared at his fruit and scowled. “I have many names,” Maven said.

“So what do we call you?”

“Anything but Gladice.” Reece watched him carefully. His experience of adults was limited to being shouted at or spoken to in a soft, understanding voice. He didn’t know how to deal with Maven.

“But you are the wizard bloke right?” he said, “The one everyone keeps talking about.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look like a wizard.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Reece pulled a face and waved his hands at Maven’s general appearance,

“You’re supposed to have a beard and long robes and stuff. And a staff! Wizards have staffs.” Maven broke off another piece of chocolate and sucked it slowly. He stuffed a hand in his pocket,

“I’ve got a yo-yo,” he said, pulling it out and holding it up proudly. Reece stared at him as if he was a madman.

Joe stood up and headed across the clearing to join them. Reece grinned and Maven smiled, though Kinga clearly decided to return to her previous less-than-charming persona and flashed him an annoyed scowl.

“You’ve made a mistake,” Joe said, “I’m not a hero.” He handed Maven the letter.

“What’s that?” Reece said, trying to get a look.

“It’s a letter from my dad,” Joe said. The words sounded strange, as if someone else should be saying them.

“So he’s alive then. Excellent!” Reece grinned at him, but Joe only managed a slight smile in return.

“Perhaps I should read this out,” Maven said. It was a good idea. Reece would pester him with questions all night long, and it would be easier to read the letter to him. Joe gave a small nod of permission, sitting on the ground, and Maven unfolded the letter and began to read.

As Maven spoke, interrupted by Reece after almost every sentence, Joe found himself drifting away. Was he really so important to this world? All he ever wanted was to be left alone. To live a normal, quiet life with his Uncle and Aunt, and leave all the important stuff to everyone else. He felt wretched. Reece soaked up Maven’s words eagerly, excited about it all and Joe wondered why he didn’t feel the same. Wouldn’t any kid love to be in his position, having exciting adventures in a magical world. They read stories like that every day. But Joe wasn’t excited. He knew in the end he would let them all down. He wasn’t the great hero they wanted him to be. He looked up to find them staring at him. Maven folded the letter up.

“Your father gave me this letter the last time we met. Your brother finally broke the walls of Groll, the third kingdom to fall into his rule. We knew it was only a matter of time before he invaded Hatriila.”

“So where is he now?” Joe said. Maven glanced up at the dark canopy and smiled. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a small purple stone, tossing it to Joe, who caught it and turned it in the light of the fire.

“What is it?” he said. Maven pointed up into the trees,

“A message from your father,” he said. Joe looked up. High in the canopy a single bird circled. “Her name is Avis.” Maven turned away and began tidying their camp, packing away his pots and plates. “It is the shardstone of the last King of the Deadmines,” he explained, “Your father sent it to me using our friend in the sky. My guess is he wants to meet us there.”

“Why did he say I was a man?” Joe remembered the words of the letter, Only now, as a man, can you fulfil the prophecy and defeat your brother. Kinga snorted,

“Not a man! Idiota!” she said. Maven gave her a scolding look but she pulled a face at him and looked away in disgust.

“Your father intended to go into hiding and I was to stay on Earth until you reached your eighteenth birthday. By then we hoped you would be strong enough to hold the Majiak. Unfortunately your brother arrived in Hatriila much earlier than we anticipated. There was no time for the King to escape and Avarat discovered the Majia Gate. We had to bring you to Antigol.”

“That’s rubbish!” Joe said, “There’s no Majia on Earth! I wouldn’t be ill and Avarat’s creatures die over there! It’s got to be safer than being here!”

“For a time maybe,” Maven said, “But while you have the Majiak in your chest, you will never be safe. Avarat will not rest until he takes it from you.”

“I should give it to him,” Joe muttered, “Get it over with.” Kinga rolled her eyes and stalked away across the camp to sit against a tree.

“Avarat has taken three Majiak from the Kings of Groll, Lotun and Aysh,” Maven said, “If he gains the fourth he will be unstoppable. He will enslave Antigol and then turn his attention to Earth. You won’t be safe there.”

“Why would he bother?” Joe said, “Why not destroy the last gate and leave us alone?”

“Because he fears the shades,” Maven said, “and what they will become. Sadly he is not alone. People fear what they don’t understand Joe, and where we have faith in Majia, on your world there is Science. It will only be a matter of time before Earth discovers Antigol, and even the Council of Twelve believe it will lead to war between the two worlds. Many in Antigol support your brother’s wish to strike before the shades become a threat.”

“I’d like to see him try!” Reece snapped angrily, “We’ve got tanks and fighter jets! Let’s see him take them on with his crappy swords!”

“Avarat will hold the Majiak. If he finds a way to use it on Earth, your science will not be enough to stop him. He must be stopped now. Joe must be reunited with his Father.”

“Unless he die,” said Kinga, “What happen then to Majiak?” Maven looked up at her, face unsure, and shrugged,

“No-one knows,” he said, “Maybe it will return to the others in Avarat; Maybe it will be destroyed. We should be glad the truth is not known; Avarat will not dare to risk Joe’s life for fear of losing the final Majiak. It may give us the time we need to find the King.”

“But it’s too soon isn’t it,” said Joe, “That’s why I’m ill.” He looked at Kinga who gave him a look of disdain. “Sometimes it hurts, here,” he prodded his chest, “It happened when the Wytches came, and in the Ice Palace when the Queen attacked.”

“The Majiak protects its host,” Maven said, “It cannot be called or controlled, but will leave your body if you are threatened. It has been asleep for a long time. Perhaps that is why it did not emerge.” Joe’s skin crawled. He couldn’t stand this creature living inside him.

“It felt like it wanted to get out,” he said, “But something was stopping it.”

“I’m confused,” Reece said, “If there’s a prophecy that tells you what’s going to happen, just read that. Then you’ll know what’s coming.” Maven smiled,

“The prophecy’s words are vague Reece. People take their own meaning from it.”

“What, like star signs? Graffo’s mum used to read them. My Dad says it was because it said ‘Take a leap into the unknown’ that she ran off with his Uncle Glenn.” Joe smiled. Even in the middle of this strange alien forest, Reece still managed to make it feel like home.

“A bit like that, yes,” said Maven, “Some parts are clearer than others.”

“And it’s been right so far?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so what’s the next bit say. What do you think happens next?” Maven sighed,

“Joe and his father will meet. At the Dead Mines.” He was uncertain, as if he didn’t believe the prophecy would come true.

“So let’s go and meet him then,” Joe said, “We find him and give this thing back. He can fight Avarat and we can go home.” Kinga snorted and jumped to her feet,

“This is chosen one? Hah! No hope for Antigol then. Why choose him? Just wants to give it back!” Reece snapped his eyes to Maven,

“I’ll have it! Put it in me!” Joe looked hopefully at Maven. Was it possible? Could he pass the Majiak to Reece? Surely it would be better inside someone who wanted it? Maven shook his head,

“The Majiak chose Joe,” he said quietly. Reece sat back in a sulk, folding his arms. “Is that what you want?” Maven said to Joe, “To give it back to your father?” Joe nodded, ignoring Kinga’s bitter laugh,

“If I can,” he said.

“Well, we can give it a go I suppose. It’s never been tried before, and you know what I always say…”

“Try a new thing every day,” Joe said with a smile. Maven clapped his hands and pointed at Joe,

“Good, then it’s decided.” Kinga slipped her sword into her belt and tied back her hair. She glanced at Joe doubtfully,

“We go Dead Mines,” she said, “Long journey. May not make it.” Joe hated the way she looked at him, but she was right. The longer he stayed in Antigol the worse he became.

“Use one of those gate things!” said Reece, “Straight there, no messin’!” Maven packed the last of his supplies and tied a rolled up blanket to the top of his rucksack.

“The council will be watching for us now. We were lucky at the palace. Majia spikes are common there thanks to the Queen’s activities but we won’t get away with it here. If we use the gate we will lead them straight to the King. Straight to us for that matter. No, we’ll go by foot. I’m sure Joe can manage.” Maven smiled at Joe and despite everything he felt better. They had a plan. Find his father and give him back the horrible power hiding inside him. Finally he could go home.