Jake awoke to sunlight streaming through his window. Blinking the sleep away, he sat up, only vaguely recalling last night's events. Yawning, he looked at his alarm clock. Ten o'clock! He leapt up. He was halfway through pulling his socks on before he realised it was Saturday. Smiling to himself, he pulled a pair of jeans off the floor and pulled them on. When he got downstairs the house was empty. Of course, he thought to himself, his mum and step-dad were at work. Not bothering with cereal, he grabbed a chocolate biscuit and went into the living room.
He plonked himself down on the sofa and began to watch TV. Halfway through the programme, Jake felt the burning pain again. He sat bolt upright, panting as the pain enveloped his body. Then, as soon as it had come, the pain stopped. Making a mental note to go to the school nurse on Monday, he wiped the beads of sweat off his face. He turned back to the TV. But it wasn't showing the programme anymore. On the screen there was an image of a wood. A horse was tethered to a tree, and at its feet was a sleeping figure. Moving closer to the screen, he saw that it was the girl from the other side of the mirror. Rather scared now, he grabbed the remote and switched channels. Every channel was showing the girl in the clearing. Jake's heart was beating faster now. Panicking, he punched the 'off' button and scrambled backwards. The screen went blank. Looking around the room, Jake's breathing slowed gradually as he calmed down. What was happening to him? He wondered. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and stood up. He went into the kitchen and gulped down a glass of water. He walked shakily back into the front room. He froze. The TV was on. It was showing the same image as before. A blinding pain shot through his body like icy needles. Jake dropped to his knees on the soft blue carpet. He was dying, he was sure of it. Purple spots were dancing in front of his eyes. He was being sucked out of his body. He couldn't breathe. He fell forwards onto the floor, and then everything went black.
How long he lay face down on the carpet he didn't know. Jake focused on breathing steadily. The pain had stopped a while ago. He became aware that the carpet smelt funny. In fact, it didn't smell like carpet at all, it smelt like moss. It soon became apparent that he was in fact led on moss. How strange. He opened his eyes. He couldn't see anything at first because everything was so bright. Eventually his eyes adjusted and he could pick out figures. No, not figures, trees. He slowly pushed himself up onto his knees and stared around him in disbelief.
He was in a clearing in a wood. Sunlight danced across the mossy rocks and tree roots. The air smelt woody, and everything was damp with morning dew. A snort startled him. He spun around, but it was only a horse. A horse alone in the woods? How odd. Jake blinked. A shape was on the ground at the horse's feet. Jake's jaw dropped. It was the girl from the mirror; only she wasn't a reflection anymore - she was flesh and blood. She stirred.
Fyra sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Yawning, she flung the blanket back and looked around. Her jaw dropped. There, knelt on the damp ground, was the boy whose face she had seen flashes of the previous night. Blinking, she watched him. He was wearing the most ridiculous attire she had ever seen. Where had he come from? How did he find her? Questions raced each other around her head. She stood up.
"Who are you?" she asked, inching her hand towards her father's knife.
"Jake… who're you?" he stammered back. Jake? What a strange name. Unwilling to reveal her identity, Fyra circled him.
"Where do you come from? Which province?" she demanded, whipping out the knife.
"England!" squeaked the boy.
"There is no province of England." Fyra spat. "Unless you come from across the Great Sea."
"W…what country are we in?" asked Jake, never taking his eyes off the knife in her hand.
"We are in the province of Nascart, governed by the great city of Nascartesa, in the Kale Islands." The boy looked lost.
"D'you think you could put the knife away?" he asked, "I'm unarmed."
Fyra scanned his figure for any sign of a weapon. Seeing none, she sheathed her knife, and motioned the boy to sit down. She sat down opposite him.
"How did you get here without a horse?" she enquired, curious at Jake's motives.
"I didn't, I saw your face in a mirror yesterday, and on the television this… five minutes ago, actually." He looked confused. No wonder, though Fyra, what was a television? Such a strange word. Deciding he wasn't a threat, she tossed him an apple out of her pack and bit into one herself.
"So, you saw my face in a mirror, and on a tele-whatsit thing," she swallowed, but the boy interrupted her.
"I felt a pain too." This caught Fyra off guard. Coincidence?
"When?" She demanded.
"Just after midday, I think."
"Me too." Both looked at each other. Fyra felt more relaxed. "I saw you too."
"And the pain?" asked Jake, eagerly. Fyra nodded, introducing herself.
They had both experienced the same pain at the same time, only the boy had been pulled from his own country, where it was obviously customary for people to wear such strange clothing, and had entered Nascart. Now, neither of them knew what had happened exactly, but Fyra guessed the gods must have pulled this boy, Jake, into their world for a purpose. She was partly right. Jake had been pulled from our world into this one via an ancient spell. We shall learn more of this later, but neither of the two had any idea what they were setting out to do. Jake had admitted feeling things "weren't right" somewhere, and Fyra confessed she'd had the same feeling too.
Fyra stood and re-saddled Ferro, having befriended Jake, she decided they would need to get to the nearest village to find Jake some normal clothes, and possibly a horse too. Ferro wouldn't be able to carry them both for long, and if Benedito's men caught up with them…
"Can you ride?" she turned to face him.
"A little, not since I was small." He looked unsure. Fyra helped him mount with apprehension, but was reassured when he found his seat and sat tall behind the saddle. Fyra climbed on too, and nudged Ferro into a trot. Jake sat easily to the horse's rhythm, and began to enjoy himself a bit. It was only when a small village cam into sight that Fyra spoke again.
"Get off here." She said quietly, sliding off herself.
Jake slid down rather ungracefully, but landed on his feet. Fyra opened one of the saddlebags and pulled out a cloak.
"Put this on." She ordered, "And make sure nobody seed your feet." She eyed the red Converse Jake had on.
"What're we doing?" He asked, pulling on the cloak.
"Getting food, and some clothes for you."
Jake nodded. Fyra pulled the reins over Ferro's head and held them loosely. Eyeing the smooth glossy coat, she frowned. He was too clean to pass as a packhorse in a small village. People would talk, and Benedito's guards were bound to catch wind of their visit. She began stroking Ferro in the opposite direction, so his coat looked scruffier. Jake stopped her and dipped his hands in some mud. He began rubbing it into the horse's legs, and wiping patches all over his body. Fyra was impressed, but disliked seeing Ferro in such a way.
"Walk slowly, limp if you want to, but make sure nobody sees your feet." Fyra adopted the walk she had used on the way out of Nascartesa the night before.
