David

Alex and I were sitting outside in the bright sunshine. It was a really hot day, the type I used to love. I would have been out in the garden in my shorts, barbecue burning hot, drink in hand.

Not anymore, that was a different life long ago. And besides, today I was on an all time low.

We had spent months researching and looking for a way for me to return, and, if she had her way, for Alex to come with me.

Then we found Jalholm, and yet despite all he had told us, I was no closer to any hope of return.

We’d been at this same cafe, at this time every day for a week, ever since the last message. Blast those messages, very short cryptic clues professing to come from a friend.

I might have ignored them all, except for how the first had been addressed.

The name that had been on the package was Kanteth, how I had been named in those first years that he sent me forth. Kanteth – Empty Heart.

No one here knew that name, not Tony or Maggie, and I had not met Alex then. No, only someone who was from Ellas would know that name.

The other messages, except the two in New York, had proven to be useless. Futile searches for ancient features that were supposed travelling circles, men who were said to be emissaries of Dar'cen, and all sorts of other excursions around the globe – each a wild goose chases, every one.

But the questions remained, who was my unknown friend and what was his purpose? Was he even a friend at all?

After the attack in New York, I very much doubted that he was, despite the warning.

So we sat here, day after day, waiting. We were both very, very frustrated.

By now Alex knew a great deal of my life. Still not all, not Carthia’s last words to me – I did not have the heart to tell her that.

A part of me still thought it possible that Alex and Carthia were two completely different people, or somehow separate copies of the same person living on different worlds, and that Alex would live on in this world after I found a way to return to take revenge on her counterpart.

I did not believe that Alex was capable of such evil, and from what she said, neither would her sister’s heroine, Carthia.

How much of what I had told her she actually believed I did not know. We had talked at length, and she had been a keen, attentive and questioning listener.

Actually her questions had been endless, especially when something I said highlighted potential comparisons with the stories that she and her sister had written.

My thoughts were interrupted as someone spoke, someone very close, and I looked up quickly, surprised that whoever it was had gotten so close.

"Mr Ellis?" the voice asked questioningly.

In front of us stood a young boy of no more than twelve. I nodded slightly, and he placed a cardboard box on the table.

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"I was told to deliver this to you."

As he spoke, another young boy on a moped pulled to a stop in front of the cafe and, before I could react, the first boy had leapt onto the back, and they both sped away.

I could have given chase, and caught both boys, but what would I do then – beat them, torture them to get what little they knew? I did not do that anymore, I was not that person.

And it would have been pointless anyway. Whoever was communicating with me had covered their tracks very well so far, and this would be no different.

The whole thing, from first hearing the voice to them speeding away, had been over in a few seconds.

I sat there, hands clenched in my lap, looking at the parcel.

It was about a foot long and three inches square, obviously cardboard and sealed with copious amounts of duct tape.

Alex broke the silence. "It seems that we’ve waited all week for this…. so aren't you going to open it? After all the boy said it was for you, Mr Ellis."

I carefully opened the box. Inside was a roll of parchment and yet another cardboard package. Somehow I knew what it would be.

I unfolded the parchment to reveal a few lines of text, much like the others, penned by the same hand.

You have searched for a way to return. I give it to you, my gift. It is set, do not tamper with it in any way, or chaos will result.

Use it here, now within the hour, or your time will be past.

It was simply signed, as all the others had been – A Friend.

###

The Watcher

It had all gone well, the parcel delivered, the boys away. All as planed, all as I knew it would, all as it had to be.

He sits across the road with the woman, the parcel unopened on the table before them. He will open it soon, and then, once I retrieve its contents, I will leave this place and return.

It is fascinating sitting here watching them. If he only looked up, glanced across the road, he would see me sitting here opposite him in plain site.

And then, if he looked, really looked, he would see through the disguise and recognise me.

And what then? How would that simple glance change what was to come?

But he wouldn’t – he was far too engrossed with what lay before him, and after all, I had been assured that all would be well, hadn’t I.

“He will not see you, never even suspect that you watch him. Leave the messages, make sure you follow the order precisely, and that they are left exactly where and when you have been told… that is the only thing you need concern yourself with. Make no mistakes and all will be as it should.”

But it was all very well for him to say that, he wasn’t sat here now, he was not the one who’d been risking all to leave messages for the man sat opposite.

So despite all he had said, I was afraid, and it was not very often that I had known that emotion. Then there was the importance of it all.

“The fate of our world depends upon this task,” he had said.

Little wonder I was scared, and worried sick too.

The situation was bizarre, insane even. I had known for some time that I would be here now, known what I would see.

But that knowledge had not prepared me for the reality of it, sitting here seeing him.

My feelings were so very confused. I knew that what we did was essential, that it must happen. And yet I felt so very sorry for him and what was to come, for what he would have to face.

As for the woman, Alex, she would cry a great deal at first, but she would get over it. She's a strong one, stronger by far than David ever imagined; that much I did know for a certainty.

He picked up the parcel, and I knew that it would soon be over.

Then, only time would tell if I had done all as it was meant to be. “Only time will tell,” I repeated aloud to myself.

Yet even that was a strange notion; I would know soon enough how I had done, too soon even to begin fretting over it.