“Where we lived. Where you were born. High up in the God’s Peak Mountains.
“But we lived in Croatia.”
“Another lie. We passed through Croatia when we fled Aslania. We used the war in the Balkans as a cover, pretending we were refugees.”
“And my mother? You told me she died when the village was shelled.” She turned back to face him.
“She’s still alive.”
Meeting his eyes, Elora could see he was telling the truth - or at least what he believed was the truth. Whether it was true or a fantasy, who could say? She felt a tear running down the side of her face and brushed it away with the back of her hand.
“She’s alive,” he repeated. “But you can never see her. She loves you with all her heart but if she saw you again, she would kill you.”
“Nat, you’re not making any sense. Why would she kill me?”
“I can’t explain it now. Not yet. But I will, I promise. Just know that she loves you very much and she never regretted having you and still doesn’t, even though she knows who your father was.”
Elora was about to ask again who her father was but Nat held up a hand to stop her.
“These secrets I’ve been telling you - they were hard enough for me to keep and hard to tell, but there’s something else I need you to know before we go on. Something more incredible and harder for you to learn, but something you need to understand before I can explain anything more.”
“And what’s harder to learn than the fact that my dead mother isn’t dead, and I will never see her? Or that there’s people out to kill me? You’ve lost the plot, Nat, you really have. Well, come on then, what’s the next bombshell you’re going to drop on me?” She sat on the ledge and folded her arms as she waited for Nat’s reply.
“You were not born on Earth.”
“What?” Now she knew he had lost his mind. “I’m an alien?”
“Not exactly. You were born on Thea, which is a twin of Earth. Taking up the exact same place and time but on different plains. That’s where Aslania is, and where we escaped from.”
Elora laughed. “And how did we do that? Catch a unicorn and ride it over a magic rainbow with the help of fairy dust?”
“No. We used the power from a charged star that had passed through both worlds and...”
“Enough, Nat. Cut the crap, I mean it. I can’t take any more. I’m going to lie down.”
She left him on deck and stepped below, slamming the door behind her before throwing herself on the narrow sofa in the cabin.
It took her a while to calm down. She felt guilty for worrying that Nat was going to ruin the trip, when plainly she should have been worrying about his mental state. She needed to get him to a hospital. Taking a deep breath to calm her temper, she went to the tiny galley kitchen to make a cup of tea for them both. No doubt, Nat was feeling flustered by the argument they’d had; he never reacted well to her anger. But maybe she was the one who was driving him to this madness. She knew she wasn’t the easiest. He had even admitted it himself. “Showing signs of evil ...” It wasn’t the first time he had mentioned Aslania. And hadn’t he always told her that there was more to the world than she thought?
Faded memories tumbled through her mind. The two of them on a cart bumping down a dusty mountain trail feeling cold and afraid and crying for her mother. Her uncle’s tender arm holding her close to him. She remembered nights cuddled up, sheltering under a heavy cloak from the rain, hands held out to an open fire and eating dry bread and cured meats. Another memory came back to her - of a boat trip on a lake, surrounded by hills and cliffs, but she couldn’t remember any details, the flashback was too hazy. Her uncle pushing her into the icy water. Screaming as she tried to swim but her clothes dragged her down. Then Nat jumping in after her, holding her for a moment, telling her to hold her breath, to be brave; then ducking beneath the water and pulling her down with him into the deep where her screams allowed the water to fill her lungs. Next, she was coughing up water and sobbing into Nat’s shoulder as he held her to him, singing softly to calm her, as tears ran down his worried face.
Why did all this come back to her now? Was it sparked by the conversation she had just had with Nat? Was she going crazy too? No, the memories were real.
She finished making the tea and waited for a moment until she felt calm enough to go back on deck. Perhaps it was best to stay silent and let Nat ramble on about his falling stars and other worlds. It might sound mad to her, but it was obviously real enough for him. If she stayed calm, she could wait a few days to see if things improved. If they didn’t, she would have to think again.
Nat remained silent for the rest of the day, keeping his eyes fixed on the waterway ahead and his thoughts to himself. Elora hoped their argument that morning was an isolated incident. She decided not to mention it for now, yet her uncle had other plans.
As the evening came on, they reached a quiet stretch of canal. Nat slowed the barge to a stop and killed the engine, letting the Molly drift slowly in the middle of the dark water, something he had never done before.
“What are you doing?” she asked, scanning the canal ahead for any oncoming vessels. The Molly would be an awkward obstacle to negotiate, especially since the engine wasn’t running. They could drift into the path of another boat and collide.
Her uncle smiled as he leaned back against the railing, folding his arms.
“You’re just like your mother when she was a girl. Stubborn as a mule. I’ve been searching my brains for a way to say to you what needs saying. For a way to make you believe. I can’t explain in words, so I’m going to show you.”
Elora’s heart felt heavy. Was this going to be another of his crazy episodes?
“Don’t be an idiot Nat. You’re going to crash into something.” She shook her head and made to turn the ignition back on but at that moment her uncle suddenly began to sing, causing her to pause, her hand hovering above the keys. His voice was beautiful. Deep rich tones reverberating on the water and echoing back against the boat. Elora wanted to join in, to harmonise with the rich melody but she couldn’t. The words were sung in the same foreign language that Nat refused to teach her. She closed her eyes instead, letting the words and tones wash over, gently stroking her nerves like a warm breeze.
Memories came to her again. Flashbacks to when she was a girl, when Nat had last sung that particular song. They had just bought the Molly and were taking her for their first trip. She smiled, remembering how excited she had been, pestering her uncle to steer the big barge and him finally relenting. How she’d found herself heading straight towards an expensive-looking yacht and panicking when she realised it was too late to alter course. It was then that her uncle had sung this song and somehow the Molly had banked on its side, drifting past at a strange angle, a manoeuvre that even as a small girl she found impossible. As did the yacht’s owners, whose horror-stricken faces froze as they watched them glide by, inches from their luxurious boat.
At that innocent age she guessed that somehow her uncle had used his singing voice to force the water to push them out of harm’s way. She smiled. It was a memory she had long ago forgotten.
The barge suddenly jolted, knocking Elora off balance, she grabbed the handrail. Something had hit the Molly with enough force to propel them forwards. Gazing behind them, she expected to see a large boat but saw nothing which could have caused the impact. She checked ahead but the canal was empty. Confused, she turned to her uncle and realised that he was still singing and that they were moving through the water as if the engine was powering them along. Although the engine wasn’t running. Apart from the slapping noise as the hull cut through the water, the boat was silent. She leaned over the side-rail, feeling the wind in her face as she strained to see if there was anything hooked underneath, perhaps an unseen towrope of some kind. There was nothing. Turning once more to look behind them, she saw that a huge wave was pushing them on and the Molly was riding on its crest like a huge surfboard.
“What the -?” she exclaimed, unable to take her eyes off the immense wave. Her first thought was that it was the Severn Bore, the huge tidal surge of water that raced down the River Severn from the Bristol Channel. Yet that only happened in the spring and the end of autumn, and only on the river. They were on the canal where there was no tide or current, yet a wave was propelling them and seemed to be gaining speed.
Elora stared at her uncle. “What’s happening? How’s this even possible?” She gripped tighter to the rail as the back of the barge lifted and they tilted forwards on a great wall of water. As their speed increased, Elora’s black hair fell loose and floated free in the breeze. Impossibly the freak wave grew so immense its outer edges spread from bank to bank, spilling water onto the grass verges. Her grip on the handrail tightened as she fought to stay on her feet. The Molly was going so fast she was afraid the ancient vessel might begin to fall apart. She turned to Nat for answers, but the old man seemed oblivious - standing there, relaxed and singing. Could he really be doing this? As she struggled to think of a rational explanation Nat’s voice quieted to a whisper, then stopped altogether.
As the song faded the surging wave fell away, leaving the Molly to be carried along by the weight of her own momentum. The barge gradually slowed and her uncle broke the silence.
“Water is the second easiest of the elements to manipulate after air. I told you the order when you were small. It seems you have forgotten,” he said, a playful smile curling the corners of his lips.
“But those were merely magic tricks you did. They were never real,” she replied, gathering her wild hair together in her hands and tying it back in a ponytail.
She wanted to say more but her mind was still running over the extraordinary event that she had just witnessed. And hadn’t she only the day before tried to manipulate the wind to set free the maple leaf in Gloucester? She had, yet it was nothing more than fantasy. A small daydream to distract herself while Ben was busking. She knew the order of the elements and the easier rhythms to touch them but never believed it to be real. Only tales an uncle told to amuse a child.
“Not tricks Elora. A gift,” explained Nat, as he turned the ignition on and restarted the big diesel engine. “The same gift that you possess.”
