Harker's Story

     The following morning Harker had managed to calm himself down, eat some breakfast and take a shower. By noon that day he was feeling almost sane again and joined Jeffry and his sons at the table for lunch.

     “It’s awfully kind of you to let me stay,” Harker said, neatly cutting the crust off his sandwich. “But I have to get back to Neovia. I need to see if it’s still there.”

     “Still there?” Jeffry sounded amused. “It was the last time I checked. Why – what happened to it?”

     “It was – well, never mind. It’s complicated.” Harker took a large bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. “What’s the quickest way to get there? And don’t say by boat.”

     “By boat.”

     “Ah, heck. I knew you’d say that. And you are sure it’s Y21, right?”

     “Positive.”

     “Great,” Harker said gloomily. “I guess the universe really is vast and unpredictable.”

     Jeffry gave a solemn, if not slightly confused, nod.

     “I suppose you’ll be wanting to book that boat as soon as possible. I don’t think there’s a direct line to Neovia – I think you’d have to sail to the Haunted Woods first, and then make your own way to town. Can’t say I’ve ever wanted to go there myself. Too creepy.”

     “Neovia is actually quite nice. It’s peaceful.” Harker remembered the way the sky had spit fire down on the town as it burned. “Most of the time.”

     “I’ll take you down to the main dock after lunch and you can book your way home.”

     Harker took another bite of his sandwich. He had never tried fried doughnutfruit before. It really was quite good.

     “Do you have a boat?”

     “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not taking you all the way to the Haunted Woods.”

     “I’ll pay you. I’m very rich.” Harker hoped that was still true in this changed future. “I’ll pay you whatever you want if you take me today.”

     “Whatever I want?” Jeffry raised an eyebrow and Harker swallowed the last of his sandwich.

     “And then some.”

     *

     In the end, it had been Jeffry’s sons that had convinced the old Lutari to take Harker to the Haunted Woods. He had agreed to help the Krawk – not for the promises of riches – but as his civic duty. At least that’s what he told himself, and Harker found that he couldn’t care less what his reasons were. So long as Jeffry was willing to take him home – he could have anything he wanted.

     And so it was that on the evening of the 16th day of Hiding, Y21 Harker the Krawk returned home.

     The journey from the Woods to Neovia was a short one, and one Harker himself had made many times before. He was relieved to see that Neovia was still standing, the familiar old houses and buildings looking as if nothing bad had ever happened there (except for the whole zombie apocalypse, but that had been a different tale altogether).

     Harker hovered outside the front of his house much the same as he had after returning from Meridell earlier a couple of days ago – what now seemed like a lifetime had passed. He realised that he had no keys to his house – he had lost them in the storm that had washed him ashore on Lutari Island. He had always kept a spare with Aren rather than hiding one out the front of his house. He so rarely left home and Aren was there so often it would be almost impossible that the one time he needed the spare key both were unavailable.

     Having come so far to be stopped at the door was the final insult to Harker, but before he could succumb to complete despair he noticed something – the kitchen light was on, and a figure could be seen through the curtains covering the lounge room window.

     Aren!

     Harker pounded on the door unceremoniously, his hands balled into fists as he banged them against the heavy oaken door.

     “Aren! Aren, is that you?”

     There was shuffling behind the door and then it opened, and Harker flew up the steps into the hallway and enveloped his housekeeper in a tight embrace.

     “Mister Harker! Whatever were you doing outside – I thought you were upstairs.”

     “Oh, Aren.” Harker felt as if every emotion he had ever suppressed was threatening to spill out of him. He hugged the Lutari tighter, and his housekeeper let out a startled squeak. “It’s been a long, long day.”

     “Come inside, sir. It’s pretty cold out there tonight. Did you change your clothes? I could have sworn you were wearing something different earlier.” He untangled himself from his master’s arms and closed the door behind them. Inside, the air was warm from the fire crackling in the mantle, and it smelt like cinnamon.

     “Are you making fruit rolls?”

     “Your favourite.” Aren replied with a smile as the Krawk sniffed the air with a look of pure bliss on his face. “Mister Harker, forgive me for saying so but you’re acting rather strangely.”

     “Long day.” He said again, softly to himself. “Now this is important, Aren. What year is it?”

     “Year? Why, it’s Y21. You haven’t hit your head or anything, have you?”

     “And the book – what about the book?”

     “What book?”

     Harker could scarcely believe his luck, but he had to be sure.

     “The book on how to build Dr Sloth’s time travel device. A small blue book, wedged between two large cookbooks on one of the shelves in my library. And the device – the time machine. It looks like a wristwatch with lots of extra dials and buttons.”

     “Mister Harker,” Aren began as he headed back towards the kitchen. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

     “And your brother – he’s in the dungeons at Meridell for – well, we don’t really know what for. But when you’ve written letters to him – because you do write to him, don’t you? – you haven’t mentioned anything about that book or the watch, have you?”

     “Should I call a doctor? You did hit your head, didn’t you?”

     “Just answer the question. It’s imperative that I know exactly what you’ve told your brother about me.”

     “About you? Well, just that you’re the best boss ever. Nothing about no book, sir.”

     “You are certain?”

     “Yes.” Aren was starting to get an exasperated look and Harker let out the deep breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. “Now do you want a fruit roll, or not?”

     Later, after they had sat together at the dining table with a tray of freshly baked fruit rolls between them, Harker confided the entire story to his housekeeper, who wasn’t sure if he was taking the mickey or not.

     He believed the part about his brother stealing the book – his brother was a massive pain in the neck most of the time. But time travel? Aren thought the whole thing sounded like the plot of one of the Krawk’s novels his master was always buried in.

     “So the shipwreck somehow snapped you back to the future – back to when you started. But how?”

     “I don’t think I’ll ever know that. And maybe I’ll never know if Jiselle survived the wreck. If I washed up on shore, maybe she did too. Maybe she’s out there right now, looking for me.”

     “I hope so, Mister Harker. I really do.”

     After Harker had bid goodnight to Aren and retired to his bedroom, he paused for a moment at his dresser. He opened the drawer that had grown stiff with disuse and pulled out an old framed photograph. In it, his sister was smiling, her brilliant aquamarine eyes shining back at him. The photograph had been taken on their eighteenth birthday, and she wore a charming gown of deep pink and a sparkling diamond tiara on her head. Her glittering wings were folded neatly around her as she smiled for the camera. He stood beside her in the photograph, wearing a tuxedo of dark purple and a small bow tie. He had one arm over her shoulder and the other holding the camera out in front of them to take the shot.

     On the morrow, he would begin the search for his sister. Perhaps she had washed up ashore in Y11 – or perhaps she had snapped back with him to Y21. He wouldn’t know until he started, and Neopia was a pretty big place. Somewhere out there his sister was waiting for him, and he was going to find her.

     He kissed the photograph lightly on the glass before setting it on the table beside his bed.

     “Goodnight, Jiselle.”

     The End.