Summary: One’s a loyal friend and a big coward, and the other’s a fighter who’s terrified of dying

Summary: One’s a loyal friend and a big coward, and the other’s a fighter who’s terrified of dying. Maybe normally that wouldn’t cause problems, but this time the combination’s gotten them both in very permanent trouble that’s too much to escape from. Short story.

Kerripthan, the Plains of War

Zerenn, year 4 since the world-switch

Yaren’s mind is clear and overloaded at the same time. She can feel the burning pain searing through her body, telling her things, sending her urgent messages she can’t ignore. You have to stop, it says. You can't keep doing this, because if you do it will kill you and I won’t let it. No, you can’t run to defend Del because you don’t know where he is and your survival comes first. No!

She can’t really move. She holds her hands out in front of her in a futile attempt to ward off the enemies coming at her in droves. She stares up at them, up at the swords they wield and their well-built figures and she knows without a doubt that in one-on-one combat with one of them, she would lose in a heartbeat. Sprawled on her back, unable to rise and with her sword out of reach, she's a sitting duck. And how can such a primitive people be such a threat? Not in her own world, not back on Earth.

But here, closing in on her as they are - at least a hundred of them - they're the biggest threat she thinks she's ever seen.

“Del!” She cries out in desperation. “Del! Del!” Nobody answers her. She’s going to die, and Del has fled. She should have figured. Del is the most loyal friend she's ever known, but he's the biggest coward she’s ever had the misfortune to meet. But then, maybe he thinks the same about her. She’s a great fighter but, when it comes to struggles she doesn’t think she can win-even if, in reality, she can-she's just as much of a coward as he is. Yaren can feel tears mingling with the sweat and blood on her face as she realizes she’s going to die. It’s what she’s always obsessively feared, and now it’s happening.

Yarren tries to move and tries to stand, but her legs just won't work anymore. Blood soaks her worn, ragged jeans, and she thinks the wounds are hindering her - no, she knows it - and she just can't seem to pull herself off the ground. Nobody has a hope of winning a sword fight when they're prone, she knows this too, and that doesn't help either. And she still doesn't see Del, and she wonders morbidly if he's already dead, and she wonders if it's because she can't make her body move, and then -

- Then she sees a flash of movement, a small figure unarmed and unarmored dodging nimbly through the larger figures trying to converge on him. He’s wearing green, she can see it. She sees him duck an enemy’s blade, pure fear etched into his face-and it’s Del-and he’s here-he’s running away, but he’s still here-

He almost gets past her. He doesn’t see her, his eyes clouded with fear, just as hers probably are. He doesn’t see her, but she sees him. She reaches up with a desperate hand, up as far as she can (he's always been tall for his age), and snatches at his shirt, dragging him closer. She has him now and she transferrs her grip to his wrist. She knows its selfish, knows that he’s just as scared as she is. They both hate this world they never wished to get dragged into, she knows all they want is to get out-she knows that’s what she wants-but not now, not this way…

Del’s struggling, but Yaren’s always been stronger than he is, even though he's got more leverage right now than she does. He’s small and agile, made to run; She’s big and built to be a fighter. Her strength, even depleted as it is, keeps him in place. He looks at her and finally sees her, scrabbling at her hands with his free fingers, screaming for her to let go-his cries inaudible over the roar of the enemies closing in. She doesn’t let him go. Oh, yes, she’s selfish…

And oh, God, she thinks, even as she tightens her death-grip on his wrist, oh, God…I don’t care about being selfish anymore. This thought adds mental pain to the physical torment already ripping her apart, but her only response is to clutch at Del’s wrist so tightly that her nails begin to dig into his skin.

--

In the house of Lisa Mckary Earth, year 2003

At the knock on her door, Lisa Mckary started to smile. Leaving her little daughter Yaren at play on the rug, she went to open the door. It was her good friend Consuela, along with her three-year-old son Delfino and her six-month-old daughter Conchita. Delfino was hiding behind his mother while peeking out around her leg, and Chita-as Conchita had been nicknamed-was examining Lisa with interest. Lisa beckoned Consuela inside, and as she entered Delfino followed.

“He’s so cute,” Murmured Lisa, gesturing at Delfino as he walked cautiously over to examine Yaren, who was the same age as he. Yaren had been busy constructing a block tower, and after examining this for a moment, Delfino picked up another square and placed it atop the pile.

“Yaren,” called Lisa, “do you know who that is?”

Of course, the girl didn’t, seeing as she’d never met Delfino before. She looked at her mother and replied, “no,” then promptly turned back to the block tower.

Lisa came over. “That’s Delfino,” she said, and the girl turned back to Delfino with interest. She tried several times to pronounce his name before simply deciding on “Del” and promptly losing interest in the name. Lisa smiled and left them alone to build their tower.

--

In the house of Consuela Cohen

Earth, year 2010

“Del! De-el!” The name was yelled in a sing-song voice, and ten-year-old Delfino didn't even have to look up from his book to know who it was. He jumped up, still with his nose in the book, and walked outside to find Yaren bouncing on his doorstep, waiting for him.

“Hi!” His cheery exuberance matched hers.

“Hi,” was her response. “Do you want to go to the circle and play?” Del paused, then nodded and closed the book. He loved the circle-the quiet, dead-end street where many of the neighborhood children played-but the cars that drove there sometimes often frightened him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go there. But at the same time, going there with Yaren felt less frightening.

“Lemme go ask Mom,” he said and turned to yell into the house. “Mom! Can I go play with Yaren?”

“Yes,” Came Consuela’s voice from inside the house. “But be back soon!”

“Aright!” With that, the two children dashed off to the circle.

Not much later found them leaning back on their hands on the grass by the circle, tired out and pleased as they watched the cars go by. Del had his nose buried in the book again, and Yaren had captured a bug and was examining it. Neither of them spoke, Yarren because she was exhausted, Del because he was wrapped up in his story again. It was a comfortable silence, though.

But at that moment, there was a voice behind them. Both children whirled to find a car driving up beside them and pulling to a halt. A man got out-a stranger-and looked at them.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” said Yaren guardedly. Delfino was silent, watching the strange man.

“Your mother told me to bring you home,” he said kindly.

There was a pause. Then finally, Yaren stood and pulled Delfino up beside her. “No she didn’t,” she said. “Del's mom isn’t my mom, and my mom always tells me who’s going to pick me up.”

Delfino could see that the stranger was angry. From somewhere or other on his person, he pulled some kind of knife and held it up so they could see. “Get in the car,” he said.

Two things happened at once. First, Yaren leaped at the man-Delfino wasn’t sure why-and wrenched the knife out of his hands. At the same moment, Delfino turned and ran with all the energy he had. The thought of that knife terrified the life from him and all he wanted to do was get as far away from it as possible.

And when, finally, he found himself back at his house, he stopped running and realized that Yaren was not with him. He bit his lower lip hard as his young mind began to work, conjuring all the worst scenarios first. What if she had been killed by that stranger with the knife? Even he knew what those people did.

But at that moment, Yaren jogged up. She had blood on her cheek, but she was otherwise unharmed. He hugged her and then towed her inside, berating her in childish phrases all the way.

Ever since then, he knew their roles. He was a loyal friend-people had told him that before-but he was a coward. And she was a fighter-he could see that. It didn’t bother him much, but the thoughts that she might one day be killed because of the fighting streak within her did frighten him. Always, he tried his best to put them aside.

--

In the town school Earth, year 2013

“Del! You are such an idiot!” Yaren couldn’t believe the sheer stupidity of her friend. “How did you manage to get that answer wrong?” She waved the paper at him, pointing at the answer marked 8.

Her friend looked so apologetic she had to laugh. At thirteen, Del was a slim person. He couldn’t help it and he didn’t really work at it-it was just the way he was. She, on the other hand, was big for her age, tall and built strongly. She was a wrestler and a karate student, and she loved to fence. She knew Del didn’t know why, but it didn’t matter. She loved the sport-it gave her such a rush, and she couldn’t figure why he wouldn’t like to do it as well. Del, on the other hand, was something like a mini-scholar. She was sure he’d become a fully-fledged one when he grew up. An avid reader, Del always had some book or other with him and he read every spare moment he got.

Even so, the boy couldn’t manage to pass math to save his life.

“You,” she said, “are an idiot. That question was so simple! Even I got it right!”

“Okay,” he replied. “I get the picture. Algebra just isn’t my thing, okay?” He had flunked an algebra test that day while Yaren had passed, and she just could not figure out why.

“Okay, fine,” she grunted, giving up.

“Du-ul! Hey, Dull-fino!” Del winced and looked around to find three big boys and a girl stalking up to him. They were the people he really despised and who, in turn, despised him just as much. They liked to bully him, and he didn’t really do much about it.

Yaren knew today would be no different. Del began to edge away toward their English class as the bullies converged. Yaren took a stance in front of him, prepared to fend them off should the need arise. Both of them knew the routine; this had happened many times before.

But it never progressed that far. For at that moment, someone tripped Del and he sprawled forward, falling into Yaren and unbalancing her. They fell in a graceless heap, and as they fell they hit heads. Stars exploded in front of Yaren’s eyes as she fell the rest of the way to the ground, knowing that she and Del were very tangled up and in a rather awkward position but not really being able to make herself move. Her head hurt…

But before she could really think about it, everything went dark.

--

Kerripthan, the Plains of War

Zerenn, year 4 since the world-switch

Now, Yaren remembers all this as she lays clutching Del’s wrist tight with both hands. She doesn’t remember much now…They woke, and they weren’t where they were supposed to be. And oh, how they’d grown since then… Del was so much more fearful now, and she much stronger, more ready to fight. This world called Zerenn was a hard one to survive in; Monsters and beasts waited at every turn to devour them and the human enemies all seemed to want them gone. They’d survived for something like four years since then, and she thought they were both seventeen now…

And the enemies they’d been fleeing from had finally caught up with them. The people they fled from were no more than a tribe of mountain people, but they were formidable enemies all the same. They lived in the more dangerous regions of the mountains where nasty creatures roamed; they were burly people, most of them, fighters to the bone - just like Yarren, but with decades more experience. They were unkempt and their clothes were now slightly bloodstained and ragged, and they were a fearsome groupe. Del and Yaren had been low on food one summer and had stolen some, and it wasn't even the worst thing they'd ever done. But it had angered the mountain people. That had been two years ago.

And now, Yaren’s nails dig into Del’s skin as she knows that the end is nigh (oh, Del would love her using that word) and that she’s going to die…

Her memories, now that she thinks of it, are hazy. Ever since they were somehow transported to Zerenn, things have blended together. She can’t remember how many people they’ve angered, can’t remember how many times Del has fled while she has stayed to fight and protect them. Now will be the last time.

The wounds she’s sustained across her stomach and down her legs are so painful, but she can’t think of that. Blood and sweat are soaking her clothes, streaking her face, and she feels sick with terror, but she can't dwell on that - not now. Del’s twisting frantically in her grip, but she can’t bring herself to let go. She’s so scared, she can’t quite release Del’s wrist, can’t loosen her fingers…

Even as one of the mountain people advances…

And she knows what's going to happen, and she reaches desperately with her left hand for the sword she's dropped.

Even as he raises a blade…

Even as its aim is perfected…

Time seems to slow. Snail-pace fingers reach out, grasp at the sword hilt, but it's just out of reach. And she tries hard to stand so she can fight, so she can protect them both.

Now, the blade slices through the air…

And she can't let go of Del, Even as he cries out, falls…

Even as he stops…

Breathing…

Oh, God…

She tries to grasp at her sword with her free hand…The sword she’s taught herself to use, the sword she’s now so skilled with. Del’s stiff beside her, no longer breathing, but she can’t think about that. The sword’s too far to reach. She can’t grasp it… She stops moving finally, one hand outstretched and the other tightly grasping onto her lifeless friend. Another mountain man stands before her, sword raised.

“Yarensoyr,” he says. ‘Yaren-sword.’ The honorific shows that, even as he hates her, he also respects her for her abilities with weaponry. ‘Yaren-sword.’ That doesn’t help now.

The sword is raised. She can’t close her eyes, she wants to see the death coming at her, even though she’s more terrified of that than anything else in the world. Her stomach twists, clenches, her throat constricts. For a moment, as she sees the sword raised, she can't breathe. She gasps a lungful of the air, fresh but smelling slightly of the blood caking her face. Her breaths come quick and raggedly, and she knows there's no way out this time.

And she can’t bring herself to let go of Del’s wrist, even as the sword gleams in the sunlight, pointed straight at her…

Even as its aim is perfected…

And Yarren again tries to reach out for the sword, once more, a futile effort to save herself. It works just as well as it had the last time.

And again, time seems to slow for Yarren. The blade slices through the air, a perfect arc. She cries out, knows this is it, and feels the fear - even now. And she'll find out what comes next now, even though she doesn't want to. She holds tight to Del's wrist with her right hand though she knows her fingers will loosen soon without her conscent. She keeps hold though for as long as she can, even as she stops…

Breathing…

Notes:

Kerripthan: means ‘The Plains of War.’ A large expanse of sand (it’s a desert) where many battles in Zerenn’s history have been fought.

Zerenn: another world, parallel to ours, where Yaren and Delfino were transported by mistake.