- Chapter One -
Predictable. Safe. Boring.
The three moons continued their almost endless pursuit of one another in the early night sky, as two storm elves raced through the clouds, cracking one another with whips of lightning, the air applauding. They were unfazed by the dragon that circled below them, hunting its prey amongst the ash and soot that violently flickered through the air.
I staggered through the burning trees, smoke filling my lungs with its slippery grasp, rain trying to beat its way through the fiery leaves and cool my aching body, but the flames were too strong.
“Raia!” I called out. “Where are you?”
My heart was racing, slamming its edges against my chest in an attempt to crawl out and aid me in my hunt for the little hero. I could hear the sounds of fighting, the clinking of swords, the crackle of fire.
“I’m here, Daddy!” she called out. “Just follow my voice!”
After stumbling around blind for a while, I found myself in a swamp, its filthy waters littered with discarded toys.
There, on a lumpy mound of dirty clothes, Raia swung her four-year-old arms about with everything she had, determined to fight off the monster. It had big shark teeth, flowers for hair and eyes that couldn’t decide where to look. It snarled and hissed as she hacked at its limbs, petals flying everywhere.
She finished it off, then waved at me with gritted teeth.
“Come on, Daddy. We’re almost at the castle.”
“Great. And then we save the princess?”
“No, Daddy! You’re the princess. We’ve got to save the unicorn.”
“Oh, right. I thought I was a knight?”
“No. I’m a knight. And an elf. And a fairy.”
“Why do I have a sword?” I checked.
“Because you’re a princess with a sword,” she replied.
Fair point.
Just then, a huge dragon appeared from behind the wall of smoke, and let out a screech, trying to bite Raia. I pulled out my secret weapon: a magic baby.
Scooping Esme up from the floor, I pointed her one-year-old feet at the dragon. Giant ice balls blasted out of them, speeding towards the beast's face. Esme giggled, rocking her head back.
“Thanks, Daddy.” Raia gasped. “That was close!”
She let out a big grunt, launching herself at the dragon as I reloaded my magic baby, and started shooting balls of electricity at it. One almost hit Raia, but she dived out of the way, her golden locks falling across her face in a messy heap.
The dragon was furious. It turned its attention to me, and chased me back into the forest. I sprinted, Esme tucked across my chest, but it made short work of the charcoaled trees, and started closing in on my jiggly behind.
“It’s going to eat me!” I cried out, hoping for some help from the nearby beautiful forest spirit.
The beautiful forest spirit informed me that she was busy. She had to leave any minute now, and didn’t have the time to fight a dragon. I reminded the forest spirit that saving her soulmate and children from a scary beast was more important than something so insufferable as work. She concurred, before blasting the dragon with magic.
Nothing happened. Luckily, Raia appeared on a swinging vine, and kicked it in the face, causing it to crash to the ground. It lay there, dazed and confused.
As Raia approached the dragon, ready to finish it off, it turned and looked into her big, brown eyes.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” it cried. “I’m just sad because nobody will play with me.”
“Oh,” said Raia, putting her sword down. “It’s okay, dragon. I’ll be your best friend.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Let’s have a tea party. No. A birthday party. Because it’s your birthday!”
“It is! I can’t believe I forgot that! Thank you.”
“It’s okay! All the kids at Kinder forgot about my birthday party too. Come on. Hold my hand.”
With that, Raia tried moving the game to her bedroom for the party.
“Come on, Daddy. You’re invited too,” Raia informed me. “And Esme,” she added.
I blew a raspberry on Esme’s belly, then turned my attention back to my spritely eldest.
“Nah, Mum’s right. We’ve got to go, darling girl. I’m taking you to Kinder.”
“But I don’t want to go!” she screamed, bursting into tears.
“I know. But if we go now, I’ll let you drive.”
“For real life?” she said, looking up from her pit of devastation.
“Yup. Go on. Go put your shoes on — the correct feet this time.”
“Okay!”
But she was already halfway out the door, sprinting to her room. Emeryn glided around the house, flicking her magical fingers and watching items dance their way into a basket. I went to put Esme down but got struck with that familiar odour.
“Ooft, stinky bum. Shall we get you changed?” I asked. She gave me a firm slap to indicate her disgust at my suggestion, but I took her to the bedroom anyway. As I cleaned up that glorious spread of shite, Emeryn came in to get a few more things.
“What time’s your mum getting here?” I asked. I wrestled with Esme’s thrashing limbs, smothering crap on her ankles in the process — something she found very amusing.
“Any minute now, I hope,” she replied, finally finding the candle she wanted. “I’ve got a mumma waiting in the river for me as we speak. What time will you be back? Mum said she hasn’t seen you in a while.”
“It’ll be after she goes back to Root, unfortunately.”
“Why? What time will you be home?”
“Well, it depends: what time is she leaving?”
Emeryn gave me a playful frown.
“I’ll be back,” I continued, hurriedly, “at the same time as usual, like every night. Always the same — predictable, safe, boring…”
Pretending to snore, I fell onto the bed next to Esme, who giggled.
Emeryn slapped my arse. “Thank you, my love.”
Raia appeared in the room with her shoes on, her backpack slung over her shoulders.
“I’m ready!”
“Nope,” I said. “Wrong feet again.”
“You always say that!”
“Because you always put them on the wrong feet. Now switch them over. No, you know what, we’ll do it in the cart. Come say goodbye to Esme and Mummy.”
Raia hopped up on the bed, gave Esme a kiss, and then cuddled into Emeryn before running to the front door. I scooped Esme up, gave her a quick cuddle, but she tried to squirm out of my arms and get back to Emeryn. As I handed her over, I gave Emeryn a smooch.
“Have a good day at work, babe,” she smiled.
“You too, Twinkletoes. I love you.”
We headed out to the barn and strapped my wonderful steed, Roku, onto the front of the cart. Emeryn’s pegasus, Gala, gave me an almighty huff of her lips as I passed, but I didn’t mind, because the feeling was mutual.
Before long, we were on the road, rolling through Hollybush. It was a quaint little town in the southwest of Riverbirth, the obnoxious sacred island of the witches. As a human without any access to magic whatsoever, I wanted to stay in Hart, the best island in Harmonia and where I was living when Emeryn and I met. More importantly about Hart, a person such as myself can live happily amongst the millions of people crammed into its limited space and be ignored for their painful mediocrity and insignificance. It was a trait that the witches could not bear to ignore.
As a witch — and a powerful and respected one at that — Emeryn wanted to stay in Riverbirth. Fortunately, Emeryn was willing to move to this claustrophobic asylum of a town, far from the witch capital of Root, so I could still travel into Hart for work.
Shall I paint you a picture of Riverbirth? I’m sure you can tell I’m a fan.
Imagine long grass, swaying trees and thick bushes full of flowers. Rivers flow from a lake in the centre of the island all the way to the sea, breaking off from each other like a spiderweb. Children play in the waters as mothers swap leftovers and extra potions. Elders sit at the water's edge, dipping their toes in, watching phoenixes fly to their final resting place atop the witches’ precious mountain, Mount Rebirth.
The lake itself sits at the base of that mountain, wrapping around it in a huge doughnut shape. Then on top of the mountain is a glorious tree — as wide as the mountain itself, and almost as tall. Its thick roots sprawl down the sides, weaving through the capital of Riverbirth, which is aptly named Root. A never-ending magical waterfall, carrying fairy magic from the tree above, and gushing to the lake below, pours down every face, whilst each phoenix cries their final tears and ignites amongst the branches of the tree — a tree that can only be destroyed by divine dragon fire. It’s glorious. Everyone is empowered and happy.
Wrong. It’s creepy.
Because the water is red. A deep, blood red. And as that red water flows, it feeds the grass, the bushes, the trees, the crops, and so everything is bleached in the colour of death and rage. Naturally, the clothes they make are all red, hence their cultish look.
Now, most of this, I’ve had to learn from Emeryn, as I’m not welcome anywhere near Root. In fact, most of the people in Hollybush hate me, and continue to petition Root’s Inner Circle to have me extradited from their lands for soiling their sacred lines. See, Hollybush was aptly named for the people that lived there: pricks.
I’m kidding, mostly. Each village was named after a different tree or plant because — you guessed it — at the centre of that village, was that specific tree or plant. Our particular village was based around a giant tree covered in holly, the most aggressive of foliage, which, for a people that liked to walk around barefoot, always seemed highly impractical to me.
“Daddy, you’re doing it again. Stop talking to yourself.”
My attention snapped back to our journey through town. Roku had mounted the curb and gotten us stuck on an angle.
“How did we end up here?”
“Well, you stopped listening to me again, and you let me drive, even though Mummy keeps telling you it’s a bad idea. I’m only four, Daddy!”
“Yep. My bad. Move over, fairy queen.”
“Maybe when I’m five I should drive?”
“Maybe.”
I dropped Raia off at Kinder, where just like every other day, staff members faked smiles as we walked through the corridors into her room. The children were silent as we entered, as though they couldn’t possibly talk in front of the “defect”.
The silent disdain was becoming a staple of my life, especially since Raia was getting older, and her magic hadn’t started to show. In turn, it meant that Raia was starting to get a similar treatment to me. Broken. Infected. Unwanted. It broke my heart.
Emeryn was always on the battered end of the stick for choosing someone like me to partner with. See, in witch culture, women had all the power, and if a man was lucky enough to be chosen to partner with, he would do so without argument, and appreciate the opportunity that he had in front of him. Usually, fathers were chosen based on their magical lineage, ensuring the strength of their people and prosperity, and so for Emeryn not just to procreate with a magicless foreigner, but worse, to fall in love with one, was an insult to all that was good in the world.
I started my long, winding trip up to Hart. This part of my journey was always quite nice, as most locals were sky bound with their pegasi, creatures that were as arrogant and pretentious as the humans that rode them.
They’re not even safe! The air pressure up there is enough to compress your skull, they don’t have any safety restraints, and the accident toll is horrendous. The week before this, our neighbour, Norris, went out for bingo night and never came home. Fell off of his pegasus from a hundred feet in the sky, splatted on the front steps of the local school.
And don’t even get me started on how many times I’ve been shat on from above whilst heading into work. Do you realise how hard it is to still turn up for your mind-numbing job after being pelted in the head with warm, hasty animal shite? It happens at least once a fortnight.
After half an hour of riding along the roads at a decent speed with Roku, and changing my outfit after getting shat on again, we arrived at the bridge leading from Riverbirth into Hart. Riverbirth was just one of the seven islands of Harmonia, and even then, we were just one corner of Malor. Regardless, Hart was our central point, connecting all Harmonians together.
Hart was a city-state island that used every single inch available. So much so, it reached high into the sky with dusty sprawling towers. It was easy to feel tiny and insignificant when lost amongst those high walls. It contrasted starkly with Riverbirth — not just because the people were more pleasant, but because it tried its best to look good, despite it being a losing battle. The streets were lit up with lamps, and festooned lighting hung from every rafter.
There was always a strong smell of sewage and litter, but almost every street had some merchants selling something aromatic. It was always confusing to have both the taste of fresh bread and pastries or an array of flowers, whilst also chewing on the odour of excrement. The streets were dirty and layered in blood, mud and dust, with rainwater draining away along the gutters of each road, no matter how dry the weather had been. And at least once a day, you’d pass some drunk in the street, trying to find his way home through the tall, dusty walls, only to bump into their other half on the school run, and attempting to explain why they’re dressed as a mermaid. I missed those days.
Life wasn’t just above ground, either. Structures were built deep beneath the streets, weaving between the bubblepede tunnels — a series of interweaving networks that the bubblepedes ran through, stopping briefly at different stations — which was the quickest way to get around the city. There was nothing like the feeling of a vibrating platform beneath your feet as the bubblepede stomped its way towards you on hundreds of little legs before grinding to a halt. It was almost as thrilling as having to then force your way inside one of the natural bubbles in its back, and stand sandwiched between fifty sweaty strangers.
Hart was a mixing bowl of all of the cultures and beings from each of the islands coming together and making their own society based on respect and acceptance and…
“Oi! Thinskin! Move your shitty little horse, will you?! I’m so sick of you fucking humans thinking you own the place! Go on! Piss off!”
… Yes, complete and utter respect and acceptance.
Hart had Elves and centaurs from Shimmerwood to the northwest, dwarves from Mightcliff in the southwest, and humans from Riverbirth and Honeyhollow, which sat to the northeast and southeast, respectively. Mind you, even that wasn’t straightforward. The humans in Honeyhollow didn’t have magic like the witches in Riverbirth. Instead, they based themselves on strength and wit. You throw a stone in Riverbirth, you’ll find a witch. You throw one in Honeyhollow, you’ll probably hit a knight hassling a merchant into giving him better prices.
Now that I think about it, Hart has other random races and nobody has ever asked where they rocked up from. For example, Sue and her two sisters run the salon near Harold’s office; all three of them have snakes for hair and a bizarre obsession with collecting rocks, yet nobody has ever thrown a hissy fit.
Once I got over the huge bridge between Riverbirth and Hart — and had that cheerful welcome from a dwarven taxi rider — I quickly found myself faced with a predictably unpredictable myriad of obstructions between me and Harold’s office.
Ten minutes in, and I’m watching a herd of jackalopes — at least a hundred of them — hopping their way down the road with some old fauns doing their best to herd them. Jackalopes usually lived in Shimmerwood, but when the elves and centaurs evicted the fauns, they all flocked to Hart and decided to bring the infuriating pests with them. My fingers were twitching, frustrated at sitting still for too long. I watched as several of the rabbit creatures interlocked their antlers together and tried to pull in different directions.
This is the moment, I thought. The moment I find out if they really can tear their heads off if they pull too hard.
My good friend, Valor, assured me he’d seen it happen. No such luck on this day, though. The fauns helped detach them and finished moving them into the next street, ready to infuriate more people.
Fifteen minutes later, I turn onto Jetson street, only to get stopped by some obnoxious centaur with a lopsided construction helmet and hi-vis vest. It was the only thing he was wearing. Each time he saw me getting frustrated, he took great pleasure in tapping his tall stop sign whilst chewing on gum.
Behind him, the dwarves were bringing in another huge shipment of Crystal-Tech from Mightcliff, ready to be sold to us naive locals. They were fairly new devices. We used Crystal-Talks to call each other, Crystal-Sound to listen to music, Crystal-Vision to watch entertainment in our own homes. It was revolutionary. Nonetheless, Valor had a conspiracy theory that there was some secret organisation in Mightcliff called the Aluminiumnati that were spying on everyone through the devices. He’s half-dwarf so I wanted to believe him, but he’s also one hundred percent full of shit.
As the traffic started to move again, I had to follow behind the centaur traffic controller and his colleagues. Without any decorum whatsoever, he just emptied his bowels whilst walking and talking, his hooves clapping on the dirty cobbles beneath him. Revolting.
By the time I’d tied Roku up and got ready to head into the office, I was a jittery mess. However, as I turned to go inside, a cart inspector rushed over, chalk in hand, and drew a white line on one of my wheels. I wanted to ignore it, but I couldn’t.
“Do you not have anything better to do?”
His puffy human face looked confused. He pointed at himself, looked around, then confirmed it was him I was yelling at.
“Yes. You. Do you seriously wait around to try and catch people?”
“It’s a two hour bay. I have to make sure you stay two hours.”
“Because that would be criminal if I stayed beyond two hours, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I pointed at a cart, two spaces from mine. It was rocking back and forth.
“There are three gnomes ransacking that cart and robbing it of everything they can get their grubby little hands on. Deniz over the street is going to be distraught when he realises, yet you’re doing nothing about it.”
“Oh. That’s an issue for the city guard, Sir,” the inspector laughed. “Besides, the gnomes haven’t got a home anymore, on account of the elves and centaur folk kicking them out for being too noisy and messy. At least, that’s what my Ma says. So, if the elves can’t stop them, what’s a guy like me to do?”
I shook my head, walked up to the wheel, licked my thumb, and wiped the chalk off. The inspector looked disgusted. He walked up to another wheel and marked that one instead. I followed him, wiping off marks as he continued to apply them. We were about five seconds away from getting into a scuffle when Harold appeared at the door to his office.
“Oh, there you are, old chap. I was starting to worry you’d been eaten by an ogre. Stop playing silly buggers and get inside. We’ve got lots to do!”
Harold and his extravagant wife, Minerva, were two of the best detectives in all of Harmonia. Or rather, Minerva was one of the best detectives, and Harold was a bumbling fool who took equal credit for emotionally supporting his fantastic wife. In fact, quite often, he’d actually make matters worse.
On top of that, Harold had a white, bushy moustache that covered his entire mouth. That might seem odd to point out, but I am of the strong belief that anyone who willingly conceals their mouth is plotting world domination. Add this to his immaculate velvet suits and long capes, and he always made you stare for the wrong reasons.
“We have a meeting with the guards in an hour. They want an update on what’s happening with the missing gnome nanny. I also have Janelle in my office — she’s waiting to give a statement on Tomas’s embezzlement allegations, but I can’t seem to find my green pen… do you remember where I put it? Oh, and Voldor is waiting in Jun’s office — I told her that you’d be handling that case. She still wants us to find out who her ex-husband is dating now — I know you love cases like that. Also, why is there a creak in the floorboard by your desk? Do you need me to get a maintenance person, or are you okay handling that — what am I talking about, of course you are! And don’t forget to organise our accounts by the end of the day. Little Harold needs his wages. There’s another sale on siren broth. I hear they’ve got a new flavour. Can you imagine? What could it be!”
Oh, did I forget to mention? We’d lost Minerva in some freak accident eight years earlier. It’s best not to ask too many questions about it. Anyhow, dare I say it, Harold had gotten even worse at his job since losing her.
“Harold, stop; what’s Jun doing in all of this? She’s your apprentice, not me.”
Receptionist and administration assistant. Nothing said safe, stable father like watching life pass you by in a monotonous nine-to-five.
Harold looked around, confused by my question as he struggled to remember who Jun was. Then the door opened, and she walked in with two cups of coffee.
“Where have you been?” he snapped. “You’re late.”
“Late?” she replied. “What are you on about? I was here before you were. You’re the one who told me to go get coffees for us.”
“Nonsense. I expect you here to help Jock. It’s not fair for him to do everything.”
“Fine,” groaned Jun. “What do you need?”
Harold looked her up and down, shaking his head, before returning to his office.
“The coffee smells good,” I lied.
“Shut up,” she huffed, knocking a family photo I had on my desk. She marched to her office, seeing Voldor inside.
“Why is there a jumpy elf in my office?” she moaned. Meanwhile, Harold had seen her knock my photo, and came storming back. He picked it up, brushed it off and placed it back on the desk.
“Jun, I am sorry to say that I am ending your employment here. May I suggest you find a line of work that requires less social interaction, or where your rudeness and lack of decorum will be more appreciated.”
Jun’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“I will not have you bully Jock in this way. It is unprofessional, and not something I will stand for.”
“Please, Harold,” I begged. “Not again.”
But Jun roared at him. “Fine,” she yelled. “Good luck, you deranged old man.”
She slammed the door as she left, knocking over the coffees still sitting on my desk.
Harold smiled at me.
“Well? Shall we crack on, old chap? No time like the present. Unless you’re a time elf, in which case you can do as you please,” he laughed. I watched as he returned to his office, ignoring the huge puddle of coffee, before continuing to look for his green pen, despite a dozen other pens sitting on his desk.
The rest of the afternoon went exactly as it does every day: me, overworked and underpaid whilst Harold talked to himself in his office, rearranged his ornaments and awards six times, and started writing notes on yet another new novel idea.
Voldor spent thirty minutes justifying her paying us to stalk her ex-husband. After that, I took notes from Janelle on why Tomas was clearly guilty of stealing from their company because he bought a new cart on the weekend that was definitely outside of his price bracket. Janelle’s cart was small and unimpressive, and this one time it got a flat tire, despite being made from wood. Wow.
A few people cried; a spatter of locals screamed abuse and death threats into my face. I then spent an hour on my knees trying to fix a creaky floorboard, which had always been creaky.
Finally, I found myself on the other side of Hart, near the arena, updating the local guards on the cases we were working together. It wasn’t even five, and once again, I was absolutely wiped. After giving all my updates, I found Harold at the front desk, telling stories of when he and Minerva went backpacking through the Iron Mountains and joined a nudist colony, a story he’d told far too many times in detail.
Out on the street, the arena was blocking the sun, letting us breathe in the dusty air from the shade.
“What do you say, my boy?” Harold beamed. “Shall we get a spot of afternoon tea to celebrate a good day’s work?”
Before I could answer, our eyes darted to a flash of light from two streets away. A purple swirling mass appeared, ripping open the sky, sucking bricks and wood from the fronts of nearby homes. The Rebirthers. They were a necromancy group that had formed eight years earlier. Their leaders, Edgar and Helena, a half-elf and a witch, had inspired all the grieving parents and widows. The issue was, pendulums would open up and snatch other living people as payment for those brought back. Balance. Except the pendulums had grown out of control. They were getting bigger each time necromancy was used, destroying streets and homes. A year earlier, a large team of people made up of volunteers from across Harmonia went on a huge quest: the Dragon Breath Expedition. It was meant to find answers on how to close it away for good. They never came back.
I looked at Harold’s face. That childlike joy was gone. His moustache was drooping as his mind wandered once more. Hector, Harold’s son and my longest-standing friend, was one of the volunteers on that expedition.
“He’s still alive,” I whispered. “I can feel it.”
“I know. I hope so.”
A small figure approached.
“Jock! You’ve got to come quick!”
It was Nyren, one of the only minotaurs in the whole of Harmonia. He was ten, but he had the heart of a warrior, and navigated the streets of Hart like it was his own personal playground. He reminded me of myself as a kid, except he had big horns instead of abandonment issues.
Kaiger, his father, was a fierce warrior in the arena, and had recently been appointed to join the council part-time to represent all those in Hart from outside of Harmonia. He also hosted speed dating events, calling them ‘A Minotaur Talk’, which I found hilarious.
“What’s going on, mate?” I asked.
“It’s the port! The expedition is back!”
I didn’t need to ask which one, and neither did Harold. He was immediately off, leaving us in his dust.
“Are you coming?” Nyren smiled, getting ready to chase after him. Others were starting to rush in that direction too. I glanced up at the arena, hearing the chants and cheers from inside.
“Nah. You go. I’ve been meaning to drop in and see Valor for a while.”
“Suit yourself,” he replied, before sprinting off.
Valor was my best friend. In fact, aside from Emeryn and Harold, he was probably my only friend. I mean, there were others — but you know how it goes. Kids happen. Careers get busier. Friends die on epic adventures and quests. It all leads to each passing year being lonelier than the last.
As mentioned earlier, Valor was half-dwarf, half-human, although which one was more important to him depended on the crowd he was with. While I was a human of average build, forgettable height, slightly plump with stubble and messy brown hair, Valor seemed as though he had been sculpted by the gods. He had long, ginger hair, glorious green eyes and was built like a fortress. Although shorter than other humans on account of his dwarven blood, he was broad and chiselled, just like his ancestors, and he spent his days fighting in the arena where he would have items smashed, stabbed and projected at him with great force on a weekly basis. None of it was pretend — the injuries were real and the bloodshed was significant — yet Valor loved every bit of it.
I heard the crowds chanting his name as I moved through the arena corridors. None of them knew the news about the expedition returning yet. They were too engaged by the vicious fight happening in front of them. Valor was grabbing Kaiger by the horns, throwing him through the air, despite being less than half of his height. Then, as Kaiger staggered to his feet, Valor took a handful of arrows, and stabbed them into his head. Kaiger surrendered before stumbling off the stage, pulling the arrows from his skull. I sat at the back and smiled as Valor soaked up the cheers and applause, before taking a bow, and disappearing from the stage.
Once everyone had vacated, two staff members came in to start cleaning up the rubbish left behind. Valor came out. He had a smile on his face, but his furrowed brow told me he wasn’t as happy to see me as I was him to see him.
“Mate! I thought I saw you out in the crowd. What are you doing here?”
“I was in the area,” I smiled. “Thought I’d pop in.”
“I was starting to think you’d died, or turned to stone, or something.”
“Not yet. Slowly, though. How is everything? How’s Harp going with the shop?” I threw a pebble at the stage. “Has she banned that prick that keeps coming in to sell her broken chairs and stolen plates yet?”
“Who? Oh. Nah, he’s dead.”
“Oh, good. That makes it easier then.”
Valor pulled a face, and started going through his rucksack.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“Me? Yeah. It’s just, that guy died eight months ago, mate.”
“Surely not. Harp told me about it the last time I saw her.”
“Exactly. I never see you anymore. It’s just a bit of a shock to the system.”
My heart sank. Valor was my last friend, and even that looked like I’d let it wilt too much.
“How come you never answer my calls?” Valor finally asked, rising from his bag, and looking me in the eyes. “I’ve been trying to see you for months.”
We stood in silence for a few moments. I didn’t know what to say.
“So, the reason I wanted to see you,” Valor continued, “was to tell you that Harp is pregnant. I’m going to be a dad.”
“No way! That’s amazing. Congratulations! How are you feeling?”
“Yeah, excited now. She’s quite far along, so the initial wave of emotions has gone.”
“How far?” I mumbled, realising how long it had been.
“Seven months.”
“Shit. Wow. Sorry. That’s… yeah. Cool.”
We shuffled awkwardly before Nyren and Kaiger appeared.
“How did you get on at the port?” I asked Nyren.
“Good. Hector was there. Harold cried his eyes out. Such a loser.”
Kaiger and I smiled at each other, knowing that Harold was definitely not a loser. He stepped forward and looked at Valor.
“Sandra said there’s a pack of ogres in Harmonia Court smashing through buildings, ripping people apart. Do you want to come join the fight?”
“A pack of ogres?” I said. “That seems highly unlikely.”
“Why?”
“Well, they come every week to ask for citizenship for their people to live in Hart. Sending brutes to smash the place up would be counterproductive, don’t you think?”
“Look, I don’t deal with politics; I deal with smashing stuff.”
“Aren’t you on the council?”
Kaiger shrugged. “I guess. Does it matter? Let’s go kill the bastards!”
“Are you coming?” said Valor.
“You go. I’ve got to pick up Raia.”
“Right… I guess I’ll see you next time you swing by.”
“I’ll make an effort. I promise.”
*
I picked up Raia from Kinder. She exploded the second I got her to the cart. She’d wanted an apple and a banana, but I’d brought her a banana and an apple. A classic mistake.
We got home, where Esme was literally blowing up the house, magic flying out of her hands as she clapped along to some irritating children’s song. Emeryn was doing her best to clean the devastation as it was caused, but it was draining her.
Emeryn’s mother had already left; she wanted to avoid traffic despite coming by pegasus.
Dinner was ready by around seven — two hours after the girls became hangry. We ate, and then Raia had a few extra meltdowns for no obvious reason. Esme refused to be held by me and Emeryn became more and more stressed. So, all in all, a successful evening.
I lay in bed with Raia after having read three more books than I agreed to, and two more games than I had the energy for. Still, I found myself being shamed for not playing with her enough.
“Tell me about your day,” she said, rolling onto her side.
“Tell me about yours.”
“No. I asked you first.”
“Alright. I fought a dragon with you, but then you became friends with it. I got pooped on by flying horses. Daddy worked really hard again. Then I saw Uncle Valor. He’s going to have a baby, which Daddy didn’t realise. And then do you remember Daddy’s friend, Hector? The one Daddy said went away, and didn’t come back, and it made Daddy sad? Well, he finally came home.”
“Why did he go away?”
“He was being a hero.”
“Oh. Are you not a hero, Daddy? You’re always here.”
“I am. That’s right,” I whispered.
“I’m never going to go away, Daddy. I’m going to stay here forever.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I do. Because I love Mummy, and I’d miss her.”
“Great. Awesome.”
“Also, I need to stay to look after you. Because you have no magic,” she explained, despite having no magic of her own. “If people are mean to you, you might need my help.”
“I think it’s sleep time, chatterbox.”
“But I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk about unicorns.”
“Nope. Goodnight.”
“Daddy, your belly is big.”
“Thanks, darling.”
“It’s because you eat too much food.”
“Sleep! Close your eyes, you pest.”
She fought me at first, but it didn’t take long before I had her lying on my chest, listening to my heartbeat, and snoring her little head off. I’d finally defeated my young ogre. Success!
I crawled into our own bed, Esme in between us, ready to begin the routine of getting kicked in the face for the next seven hours. Everything was fine.
Totally fine.
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