The Living Earth

Chapter 1

The bulbous raindrops that were typical of the skies above London fell swiftly and heavily, their impact on the ground combining to make an incessant percussion that beat intensely onto the streets. It was a gloomy reminder to those who were unfortunate enough to be walking in the Capital that morning that it was probably not destined to be the best of days.

On the edge of Trafalgar Square, a man stood in the cold, dark hair plastered to his ashen face by the downpour. Across from him, the Square’s fountains thundered away as magnificently as ever, the contents blending chaotically with the ensuing rain. A flash of lightning cut through the clouds, illuminating London with its power for a split second – a small distraction from the endless torrent of water that fell from above.

The man looked cautiously towards the sky, raindrops streaking down his five ‘o’ clock shadow and dotting his open shirt collar. He closed his eyes contentedly for a moment as the rain cooled his flaming skin; working with a fever was hardly ideal. But this kind of opportunity waits for no man to get over the flu. His eyes lingered over the Square, keeping an eye on the few tourists who resolutely traipsed across London taking in the sites, rain or no rain.  

The man straightened a little as the foot traffic began to half-heartedly pick up, the promise of lunch luring people from their offices. A few stockbroker types briskly hot-footed it across the soaking ground, golfing umbrellas and newspapers held aloft in an attempt to fend off the weather.

“For God’s sake,” the man muttered, vigorously rubbing his face, his icy fingers sending a chill down his spine.

He reached for a sorry looking newspaper that lay near his feet, shaking it into shape. The headline that screamed of the Prime Minister’s economic reforms had begun to bleed into an almost illegible mush of ink and paper, but the date remained decipherable. The man threw the paper down in frustration, and ran his hands through his sopping hair, despondently searching the almost deserted Square once again.

The right date, the right time ... Where the hell was this guy?

“Mr Hunter!”

He twisted around in search of the squeaky voice.

“It’s horrid out here!”

Hunter smiled weakly as the little Sprite landed grumpily on his shoulder, shaking the rain from his green-as-grass fur.

“Hello Oisín.”

“Sprites weren’t made for rain,” Oisín grumbled, wringing his wings dry underneath the disintegrating newspaper Hunter had retrieved.

Sprites were a curious sort of creature. Small and rotund – perhaps the size of a golf ball – and covered in a thick colourful fur, Hunter often thought they resembled overgrown, dip-dyed bumblebees.

“I don’t like your Earth. No, not at all, it’s far too damp here. June said to me before I left, she said ‘Oisín, don’t go. It rains too much and you work so hard already’. I should have listened to June. I work too hard. I should have retired. I could be somewhere warm and happy, but no, I’m too nice. I sign up for another job, a job that’s damp and –”

“Did Arlen send anything?”

Oisín huffed and shook his fur once more. “Yes. Said it’s urgent. Don’t know why it couldn’t have waited til the rain stopped ...”

“Well?”

“Arlen said not to approach anyone if they come, no matter what. ‘Stay hidden and try to get a good look’, that’s what he said.”

Hunter frowned. “And how are things?”

“Things?” Oisín asked.

“Back home.”

Oisín shook his little head. “Not good, Mr Hunter, not good at all. I tried to listen at the council meeting, I couldn’t hear it all but I think they’ve almost reached Cobbtown. The council asked Arlen to send some of his academy, but I don’t think it will keep them back for long.”

Hunter sighed  and placed a hand to his brow, the cool of his skin temporarily subduing the burning in his temples. His hand abruptly dropped to his hip, the steel of his astrolabe sitting comfortably in his palm within an instant of catching sight of the boy.

Relatively short, scrawny and swamped by an oversized hoodie, the boy dropped his rucksack by the side of the fountain, twitching nervously.

Hunter hesitantly took a step forward.

“Mr Hunter, no!”squeaked Oisín.

“He’s right there, for goodness sake!” Hunter hissed. “Who else could it be?”

“But you don’t know for sure!” Please, Mr Hunter, Arlen said not to do anything!”

Hunter muttered an agreement, his eyes glued to the boy as he rifled through the rucksack. The boy quickly zipped the bag up and promptly walked away, blending into the crowd like just another city worker.

Hunter began to carefully pacing towards the fountain.

“Going somewhere?” a quiet voice said from behind.

Hunter turned on his heel, glaring at the short blond man leaning casually against a lamppost.

“Walk away Hunter. We’ll arrange for a Tailor to dispose of it.”

“But—”

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Hunter reluctantly stepped back.  “Do we even know what it is? It’s not as if we were handed any black and white information, the whole leak could have been faked,” he questioned, distancing himself from the fountain.

“If it can be avoided Hunter, under no circumstances will I allow innocent citizens to become victims of fanatical violence. I’m not willing to allow a Ripper to go off if’s at all preventable. Better a few hours of the Tailor’s services wasted than a Square full of bodies.”

“True,” Hunter agreed. “Alright Caine, I’m coming back—”

Hunter’s words were drowned out by the fireball that erupted from the fountain behind him, rubble and debris flying through the rainstorm. He flailed blindly through the air, lifted clean off his feet by the blast. His body crumpled like a broken doll, landing heavily on the concrete pavement as car alarms blared and windows smashed. A searing pain spread across his back, the smell of singed fabric and cordite hanging in the air.

His ears ringing and head throbbing, Hunter dragged himself into an upright position, hacking violently as dust tumbled around in his lungs.

“Hunter? You alright?” Caine gasped.    

“Fine,” he replied, pulling off his burnt jacket. “It looks as if that leak was right all along.”