Fiona G.

In A Land Far Away

by Fiona Ella Margaret Goodman

Dedicated to the voices of the stories that compelled me to write this

-F.E.M.G.

Maple Leaf Writing Project

Brattleboro, Vermont

Olivia Harper was on her knees in her parents’ bedroom, arm-deep in clothes, searching for any hint of what prompted the queen of Mhajia, J’apaira, to take her parents. Earlier that morning, J’apaira’s men had broken into their house. Olivia and her older brother, Will, had rushed to the area, but it was too late. Their parents were gone by then.

Olivia’s eyes welled with tears as she thought of that, but all thoughts were blown from her mind when her fingers found themselves grasped around a piece of burned paper. She pulled it out, heart racing, and began to read.

Talia,

It is your sister. J’apaira. By now I have discovered that your daughter has been named Olivia, and she does not know that there is more than one Earth in her universe. You must tell her.

You are no longer queen in Mhajia, Talia Westfield. I hope you know that. I am old, now, and am in need of an heir—one who carries my bloodline. I will take the girl away from

and the letter ended there, right before, probably, the world Olivia Westfield lived in. Why did that surname sound so familiar? It wasn’t hers . . . ?

I must be adopted, Olivia decided as she looked at the paper. I’m their adopted daughter.

But her eyes kept straying to the second line, and then to the last legible one. . . . that there is more than one Earth in her universe . . . I will take the girl away from . . . Earth. There is more than one Earth.

“I need to save my parents,” Olivia said, almost to herself. “And I have to find Earth.”

“Olivia . . .” Will stared at the basement floor. “I know you believe all of this—I respect that!—but didn’t it occur to you that it might have been a trick?”

Olivia stomped her foot. “I know it wasn’t!”

“But without Mom and Dad, we can’t do anything, can we?” Will sounded desperate, and it was one of the moments that Olivia had to remind herself that her brother was two years older. “Now that they’ve been taken, just like all those other people—”

A thought struck Olivia, and she jumped into her brother’s sentence. “Will, wait. Do you know the date that the queen started taking people?”

“I think it was sometime in September, eighteen forty-seven.”

“A year after my birthday—almost twelve years ago,” Olivia said, gathering steam. “It was a couple that had a one year old daughter, the same age as me. Right? And then that kept going on! A family that had a daughter around my age would be taken once a month. And . . . now our parents, because they have a daughter. The queen must’ve been looking for me!”

“Now we need to save Mom and Dad and get you back to Earth,” Will admitted. “Do you think Mom or Dad knew anything about it?”

Olivia smiled. “Maybe. But I think I know someone else who knows.”

***

Olivia used a kitchen knife to cut another rip in her skirt, then turned to Will. “Am I tattered enough?”

“That’s overkill.” Will told her. “Major overkill.” They were standing in the kitchen, trying to disguise themselves—Olivia as a poor beggar, Will as one of J’apaira’s messengers. Neither of the Harper siblings were recognizable. Will’s cap was pulled so low over his eyes it was a miracle he could see at all.

Olivia crossed her arms. “It is not! ”

“Olivia, I can see your leggings.”

“You’re supposed to be able to! That’s what leggings are for!”

“You tore them, too?”

Olivia pulled her jacket down lower.

“This is not going to work,” Will said with a melodramatic sigh. “Not at all.”

“It will,” Olivia said, quite confident. Her brother shrugged. His hat hid his eyes, so Olivia had no idea what he was thinking.

“Let’s go!” Olivia said, springing for the door. “Will, you grab my wrists, like this, so that it looks like you have me as a prisoner. Can you sound intimidating?”

Will didn’t answer. He grunted.

“Good! Let’s go.” Olivia pretended to pull at Will’s hands, but he held them tight. They went on through the streets. City children gawked at Olivia’s squirming, but most of them just hid. Will, in his drooping cap and his father’s old messenger uniform, must have been quite terrifying.

Finally they reached the jewel-encrusted palace. Olivia gasped as she looked up at the gems and silver designs, but her gaze lingered mostly on the carved angels at the top. One was female, with flowing hair and a dress carved out of such thin gold it appeared to be moving. The other was male, with black hair and an angry, pouting face.

“Olivia.” Will shook her elbow. “We’re probably supposed to go in.”

Olivia began to move, taking in the intricate detail around the door. Who was it who could make all of this? The queen? An artist?

All of Olivia’s amazement with the outside vanished when she saw the inside. The floor was made out of carved silver and gold, as the outside had been. On the walls, the two angels from the outside were rendered in different positions, blessing villages, putting out fires. One angel, the one who looked male but Olivia now saw was a female who looked like J’apaira, always seemed to be attempting to keep the blaze going, or curse the village, while the blond angel, the one who was clearly female, was always blessing, or saving, or putting out fires. It reminded Olivia that they were in completely alien territory, and that there was a chance they could die. Then she remembered her parents, that she had to find them, and forced herself to go on.

Soon they reached a door. The corridor ended abruptly. The door was gold, engraved to look like wood, scrolling symbols carved on it. It said something along the lines of beware, traveler, your death may await.

“Cheerful, isn’t it,” Will muttered.

“Yeah,” Olivia whispered back. “But nobody can recognize us. We’re okay.”

“I hope you’re right. ‘Cause if you’re not, we’re both going to die.”

Their conversation was cut short then. The door swung open, and J’apaira herself, in all her finery, stood before them. She was incredible, but in a sort of cruel, unfeeling way. Her mouth, like the mouth of the angel, was pressed together in an angry line, but her face was no less delicate for that.

“What a … pleasant surprise,” she said, lower lip curling in a sneer, and in that moment Olivia knew that their disguise had done nothing. “I will take things from here.” She made a quick movement forward, like a snake striking, and in a moment Olivia found herself being dragged along by a cold, steely grip. She squirmed, fear racing through her heart.

“Please—I’ll take her down to the dungeons,” Will said. Olivia exhaled with relief. “You can question her later, your majesty.” He bowed and took Olivia’s arm. The queen swept through the door from which she had come. It was silent.

A voice drifted in from the corridor—clearly J’apaira.

“. . . Yes, and my twin sister misunderstood . . .”

Before Will could stop her, Olivia had leapt through the door. She vanished.

Olivia was spinning, hurdled half upside down, no longer sure what was up and down, or even what was forward anymore. Her body was compressed, her arms and legs pulled inwards. All around was bright, but her eyes were closed. For a moment Olivia was sure she was dead—all her feeling had disappeared. Then she was sitting up on a glittering diamond and blue glass floor. Will was sitting next to her, looking dizzy and nauseous.

“This is weird,” Olivia said, enunciating each word carefully as though she were no longer quite sure how to speak.

Finally Olivia managed to shake off her dizziness and stood up. “We should get going. What is this place?”

When she stood up, the glassy diamond floor sagged beneath her feet, but like fabric, flexible, and Olivia knew it wouldn’t break. From the ceiling, an enormous glass chandelier hung, little sapphires and rubies swinging. The whole place reminded Olivia unpleasantly of a net.

That was before she noticed the people.

None of them were her parents—that’s the first thing Olivia noticed. They were all different, but the people had one thing in common—the sad, defeated looks on each of their faces. They all wore tattered gray clothing. It had clearly had color once, but now, it was all the same—faded, dull gray.

"Okay, I'm freaked out now," Olivia muttered. "Are we in prison?"

Will put one protective hand on her shoulder. "Unfortunately, I think that's a yes."

Tears stung Olivia's eyes, but she held her breath and steeled herself, refusing to crack under the stress. She wasn't going to collapse, not here, not when her parents needed her.

"What did all these people do?" she finally had breath to ask. The question was more directed at Will than the prisoners, but it was a young, male prisoner who answered her.

"We haven't done nothing, in our eyes. It's just this queen, she's the one's been making us all stay here, like filthy little shed animals, just ‘cause we wanted change!”

"But why did she put you here? What did she think you did?" Olivia pressed on. A middle aged woman answered her this time.

"We wanted our old queen back, the Good Queen Westfield. We wanted our freedom."

“And we rioted,” the man put in.

"Good Queen Westfield?" Will said cautiously.

“Yes.”

“Talia Westfield?" Olivia said. The woman nodded.

"I think . . ." Olivia swallowed and gritted her teeth. ". . . she's my mother."

There was a gasp, and the many prisoners withdrew and muttered among themselves for a long time, faces showing the shock that Olivia herself was feeling. Talia Westfield . . . the name Talia had been in the letter from J’apaira. Something was nagging the back of Olivia’s mind about that, but she pushed it away.

"Daughter of the Queen." it was the young man again. "We’re real pleased to see you, even in these dark circumstances. I remember when you were a baby during the riot. I carried you away from —” he stopped quickly. “I come from the world of peace. The name’s Azun Unako.”

"The world of peace?" Olivia's hands trembled where they were clenched in her skirt.

Azun Unako nodded. "It’s called Kihuno."

"So you’re..." Olivia felt faint, her heart racing. "Azun, you came here. Do you know how to get back?"

"No unfortunately. After its use, a portal must close."

"And there's only one . . . portal?"

"No! Thousands of them. Supposedly, there’s a portal on top of Olden Mountain that leads to Earth. You can get there before the queen knows you’re here."

"She already knows," Will said, breaking into the rapid discussion between his sister and Azun. "She saw us when we came in."

"And who are you?" Azun asked. "The Good Queen Westfield's son?"

"No, I'm just Will Harper. Nothing special. Olivia got adopted into my family."

Azun smiled at her name. “I gave you that name, you know.”

Olivia stared shyly at the floor. "Azun, we really need to get to the top of Olden Mountain—quickly. When I'm gone, the queen stops trying to get my attention. When I'm in Earth, I'll be with my mother—or, if she's . . ." Olivia couldn't make herself say it. She steeled herself and kept talking. "Well, if she is, then I would be queen. So if you help us, then we can help all of you in return."

"All right," Azun said. "Katana, will you show them the exit?"

A girl who couldn't have been more than eight years old grabbed Olivia's sleeve and the pocket of Will's pants, and dragged them towards the edge of the prison.

"Over here, Queen's daughter, completely unroyal brother of the Queen's daughter," she said, with a lisping accent. Azun frowned.

Katana dragged them towards a little side door.

"We try to escape, but J'apaira tracks us. If you stumbled in here by accident, then she can't track you yet. Go!" As soon as she had spoken these words, Katana ran off so quickly it seemed she had vanished into thin air. Olivia and Will exchanged glances.

"I'll go first," Olivia said. Will didn't argue.

A bit of snow tangled itself in Olivia’s eyelashes. She wanted to brush it away, but she didn't dare let go of the angel statue that had been carved out of the wall—the only thing stopping Olivia from plummeting down towards Olden mountain. She had come out of the door onto a thin ledge barely three inches long, but it had cracked and fallen under her weight. There had been two things to grab onto in order to survive: the edge of the door or the statue of the Good Queen Westfield. Olivia chose her mother.

She was so high that looking down was nearly unthinkable. Olivia stretched one leg down, searching for a foothold, but not daring to look for it. Finally, she found a niche in the bricks, and eased herself downward, grabbing another stone carving. This one was J'apaira.

"You can come down. Just don't try to step on the ledge. What's left of it might break. Grab the statue of my mother, then look for a hole in the bricks. It'll be about four feet down!" Olivia called to her brother. “Don't step on the ledge, don't step on the ledge," she whispered under her breath. Will's head poked through the door, then he turned around, grabbed the statue of the Good Queen Westfield with both hands, and let himself hang. Olivia could see her brother's toe stretching down from her position a foot or so below him.

"You need to go a little higher to find the hole," she whispered. Will appeared to nod his thanks, though he might have just been leaning his head back as not to be poked in the eye by the nose of the statue of Olivia's mother. A moment later, his foot found the hole.

Olivia moved further down.

Olden Mountain, though being the smallest of all of the hundred mountains in the icy part of Mhajia, was by far the most majestic. At the top were icicles, which had frozen in such a configuration as to show the majestic face of the first ruler of Mhajia, who had been a king. It was steep, but not so steep that one could not climb it, given time.

It was the perfect place to hide a portal.

As she struggled up the base of the mountain, Will now several strides ahead of her, Olivia wondered why the queen had to make her life so complicated and take her from her mother. And as she walked, breathing hard, bowed against the cold, one more piece of the letter which she had been too shocked to register before rang out in her mind.

...It is your sister. J’apaira...

The Good Queen Westfield was J'apaira's sister.

J'apaira was Olivia's aunt.

"Olivia?" Will called. He had reached a forked crossroads. Olivia, oblivious to his calling, stood there in the gently falling snow and stared out at the top of the mountain, truly seeing nothing. She was of royal bloodline, her mother was this wicked queen's sister . . .

"OLIVIA!"

She looked up, finally. Will was at the crossroads, arms folded. "Which way?"

"I don't know," Olivia confessed. She jogged to catch up with him, then craned her neck as far as she could to the left. It ended at a cliff. "Right," she said decisively. "The other one's a dead end."

They began to trudge up the path on the right. Finally, Olivia got up the courage to speak again.

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"I just realized something. Like, something really important, right now."

"What?"

"J'apaira is my mother's sister."

Will gaped. "So that's why she wanted you!"

"Yes, it is."

"Wow." Will seemed to be speaking to both Olivia and himself—they had finally reached the top of Olden mountain.

And there was the portal.

Around the edges glimmered faintly purple, but the center was just nothingness, shining nothingness, through which Olivia could see a tall iron post with a globe of light balanced on the top. There was a rushing noise coming from the inside.

Olivia took Will's arm and began to move towards the portal quickly. "Come on! Don't you want to see my world?"

He didn't budge.

"Come on!" Olivia said, tugging at his sleeve. "You can come back right afterwards and see your parents! And I'll always be able to visit you, and —" she stopped short. Will wasn’t moving. "What?"

"You remember what Azun said? 'After its use, a portal must close.' Olivia, I can't go with you, and you can't stay. There's a limited amount of portals in the world."

Tears stung the back of Olivia's eyes. She let them come. "You mean I have to go home alone? I can't take my brother?"

And then, just like he'd done when Olivia was young and had broken her favorite toy or fallen off her bike, Will wrapped both arms around her. "Please, Olivia. Your mother's the queen. She can help."

"No," Olivia whispered. "No."

"You have to do this." Will let her go. "It's the only way. Someday, things’ll get better, and we’ll meet again. But for now, this is the way it is. Just . . . promise. Remember Mhajia. And . . . me."

Tears flowing freely, Olivia turned around and moved towards the portal. As she did so, in many other places, things happened. All of the people who had been imprisoned and taken by J'apaira were suddenly freed, and J'apaira herself, in her palace room, shrieked and clawed at her body, knowing that her reign was over and that there was no way she could regain it.

And on the top of Olden Mountain, Olivia Westfield passed through the shining square of nothingness and into the world of her birth.

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