In Other Lands

by Sarah Rees Brennan

“You embarrassed me a little in the commander’s office,” Serene said, and her voice was soft: loving but chiding, and Elliot truly did appreciate how hard she was trying not to overstep the boundaries of their new relationship, but he actually liked it better when she was being brash and open about her attitude toward men. It was difficult, this way, to separate out affection and condescension, and he didn’t want to reject the affection. “You know me, Serene,” he said, and pulled her hand away from his face, linked his fingers with hers instead. “I’ll be embarrassing you a lot soon enough.” She took it well. “Probably,” she murmured, and kissed him. “I don’t mind it too much.” They had a lovely ten minutes together, until Elliot sent Serene off to practise with Luke.

“So, you’re really serious about Serene?” “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Elliot’s tone was more snappish than he’d intended, but Myra didn’t seem to take offence. “You know, you’re kind of a dramatic person, Elliot,” she said mildly. “I am not. How dare you!” “It’s not a bad thing,” Myra said. “But when a guy calls a girl the nightlight of his soul, other people might be forgiven for thinking he’s being intentionally over the top.”

And hey, it all worked out, didn’t it? You’re with her.” Elliot looked out the window. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I am.” “And you were serious about her the whole time,” Myra said. “Yeah,” Elliot said, even more softly. “Yeah, I was.” “And she knew,” said Myra. “That’s what counts. It doesn’t matter what anybody else thought.”

He had to be careful not to drive off Myra. He realized exactly what he had said, earlier, even if she did not: that Luke was not Elliot’s friend. And in a way, since Serene was now his girlfriend, she was not actually his friend anymore either. If—something were to happen, if he made too many mistakes and they broke up, Elliot would have nobody. He had not thought about how dangerous it would be, to have all his dreams come true.

“Come with me,” said Luke abruptly one day, turning up at the library and grabbing Elliot’s wrist and hauling him out of the room. Nobody protested this outrage but Elliot himself. Myra said, “Hi, Luke! Bye, Luke!” and waved Elliot good-bye with her little finger, not even putting down her book as her friend was carried off. It was scandalous and heartless. Elliot grabbed at the checkout desk as he went by. “Uh, help me?” he suggested. “Abduction!” “Don’t be a silly little thing,” said Bright-Eyes. “Men don’t abduct people. Just boyish high spirits! You should both channel them into embroidery.” “Maybe I would if I wasn’t being abducted!” Elliot hissed, but his grip on the desk proved futile as he was pulled away. Sometimes Elliot worried that Bright-Eyes-Gladden-the-Hearts-of-Women disliked him intensely for being a hussy and always in the library until closing time.

“I was thinking about why a land full of magic, where the humans lead secular lives and there are no churches, celebrates Christmas,” Elliot remarked. “I guess it’s a remnant of what humans bring across the Border with them. The ritual remaining, past belief.”

“Perhaps next year we could incorporate some of the elvish winter festival into this time.” “I would love to do that,” said Elliot. “Yeah, okay,” said Luke, unwrapping a crossbow. The table in front of him was crowded with weapons, but this one was from Louise and she had her current kill count engraved on it, with an encouraging message that said KEEP UP, LITTLE BROTHER! Louise was a terrifying person, and it made them all smile. “We can do the thing with the funny lamp too,” Luke continued. “Menorah,” Elliot corrected. “We don’t have to.” He’d told the others about being Jewish, and tried to explain all that entailed, but he was not sure he understood perfectly himself.

I like how they're all ready and willing to incorporate each other's celebrations and cultures and beliefs together

Luke unwrapped his next present, which unlike all the other terrible pointed gifts of death was a soft blue jumper. “My dad knits,” he explained as Serene nodded with complete understanding and Elliot beamed in astonishment. “He says it’s soothing to have something to do with his hands in between battles. When it was just him and me because Mum was on her three-year mission and Louise was in the camp, stationed out in the north, it was freezing. All the men wanted Dad to knit them something warm.”

That's adorable

Serene for a season: Serene’s warm skin, the growing-easy slide of his hands up her smooth back, the fall of her hair all around him, the low approving sounds she made as he kissed his way from the curve of her mouth to the curve of her neck down to all the curves of her slim body. Serene as the world edged toward spring, with moonlight turning her bare skin to pearl and her eyes to diamonds. Lying with Serene in the darkness when it was easiest to speak and murmuring secrets and dreams.

Being with Serene was worth everything. He could only hope she thought so too.

“And yet my daughter is excelling, are you not?” inquired Sure in elvish, deliberately cutting the commander out of the conversation. Her lip curled in satisfaction as Serene nodded. “I would expect no less.” It did not seem like much, but Serene glowed. “May I have the honor of introducing my comrades to my revered mother,” said Serene, recalling herself after a moment. She gestured to Elliot and Luke, and Elliot now saw where she had learned her graceful dignity from. “This is my swordsister Luke Sunborn, and my boyfriend Elliot Sch—” “I don’t particularly care about the redheaded slut you’re amusing yourself with,” said Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle. Her eyes were gray pools like her daughter’s, but Serene’s were the pools in spring and in Sure’s winter had come. “Mother, how dare you!” exclaimed Serene. Sure’s icy eyes slid over Elliot as if he was not worth bothering with. They fixed on Luke. “But claiming that a boy is—that a boy could be—your swordsister? That is obscene. That is spitting on the traditions of our house and our people. I wish to hear no more of that nonsense.” Serene put a protective, possessive hand on Luke’s arm. “It’s not nonsense. And the traditions of my people are wrong. He is my swordsister. As soon as we saw each other, we both knew it.”

“Nice to see you again,” Elliot said, smiling and looking up—no, actually, across, when had that happened?—at Swift through his eyelashes. “Thank you for all your letters. Elvish life is so fascinating.” “I am glad to amuse you, my dear, though I am but a rough soldier who has no great readiness with a pen,” Swift said heartily. “Your dear prattling and jesting missives in return have cheered me on many a lonely night out on patrol.” “Heh, really? Um . . . cool,” said Elliot, and looked around for help. Serene had Luke’s arm in a death grip and was now screaming in elvish while her mother bellowed cutting remarks. No help there, then. “I was saddened to hear Serene had launched a successful attack on the citadel of your virtue,” Swift said. She sounded genuinely grieved. Elliot was grieved to be having this discussion. “The citadel was totally into surrendering. Also I personally would not have referred to it as a citadel,” Elliot observed. “Like, ever.” “No doubt you tempted her. Ah, a man’s morals are frail as they are, sweet silly creatures,” Swift said. “I do think it was up to Serene to control herself, though. She must have known I was considering you as a bride. Your humanity would not have mattered so very much, up in the wild north where I am stationed, but now you have been sullied, of course it is out of the question.”

Do women get—” She used a word Elliot did not quite understand. “Tureen . . . stomachs?” he said. “Oh! Pot bellies? Well, some women kind of have them. Less than men, I guess.” Swift nodded triumphantly, her point made. “And men go”—she almost whispered the word—“bald.” She shook her head sadly. “The beauty of men is a sweet soft thing that passes all too soon, like a bird across the sky.”

“Maybe both our societies are messed up, and they each only think one type of person is really a person. And the type of person they think is really a person is allowed to show imperfections and age . . . whereas the type of person they think is an object should show no signs of being a person. We’re socialized to see the imperfections in those objects.”

Swift chuckled. “You’re still a funny, taking little thing. I think it’s a shame of Serene. I hope she treats you well when you’re under her protection. I’ll ask her permission to continue writing to you.” “Except I don’t need her permission to do anything!” Swift continued blithely, as if Elliot’s opinion on the subject did not count, and Elliot knew that no matter what he said Serene was getting asked, as if Elliot were a book to be borrowed or a child taken out for an ice cream. “And if she leaves you forlorn and weeping, remember you can trust me. These young rogues can be heedless, but I’d treat you well.” Elliot stared. “I will remember that. In fact, I have a feeling this scene will come back to me again and again....

Serene’s mother was the one who got the last word. Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle did not run after her errant heir, or raise her voice. She stood with her guard at her back, her arms casually crossed, her silver-and-shadow hair streaming, and she spoke clearly and calmly. “Go and play with your humans, child. When the time for child’s play is past, I know you down to bones and blood. When the time comes, you will leave all this and come to my call. You will ride into battle at my side.”

“I don’t know why you came if you think this expedition won’t be any use,” Serene remarked. Elliot pulled off his shirt. Once he had the hair under enough control that Serene could see his face, he winked. “Don’t you?” “Don’t think you can get around me with your newly improved physique,” said Serene, and Elliot was torn between being flattered, surprised, and wondering how much improvement it had required. Serene kissed him, so he settled on flattered, leaning into her and feeling her warm fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen. “Beauty is a delusion and a snare.” She pushed him backward, and he fell laughing in firelight and tangled bedrolls. “Consider yourself snared,” he told her. “It was very wrong of you to come,” Serene said later. Elliot’s head was resting on her stomach as he read. He heard the smile in her voice as she continued: “But I’m glad to have you here.” Elliot smiled. He was still smiling as he pressed a kiss against her soft skin, then another, in a trail from her belly button and heading down.

“Quiet,” Luke whispered. “I think it’s harpies.” Elliot propped himself up on one elbow in the dirt. “Harpies? Cool!” Luke shoved his face back into the grass. “Not cool! Harpies are monsters, do you hear me? They are not like dwarves or even dryads: they are death with wings. They are the owls to your mice. They rip with their claws, they swoop, and they kill, and once you are dead they rend the body until it is stinking offal, because mutilation of corpses is their beast’s idea of sport. And your dumb hair is a beacon. So don’t move a muscle, and don’t you dare even think of doing something stupid.” Elliot sulked. He would keep still since Luke was in a tizzy, but if Luke thought that he could persuade Elliot to stay put when he got a chance to see mermaids rather than harpies, Luke had another think coming.

“Two of them,” Serene whispered back. “Scouts. The scouts go in pairs. If we get them, they can’t report back. We can’t have anyone knowing that we’re coming.” Luke and Serene rose to their feet in one smooth matching movement, bows at the ready. Their bowstrings were taut, arms held at the exact same angle. They moved like two parts of a killing machine. “They’ll never make the shot,” Dale whispered. “Not both of them. I can’t even see . . .” They all saw then, the meeting of the scouts in the sky, a rush of wings that blotted out the sun for a moment, and at that very instant Luke and Serene took their shots. The harpies tumbled from the sky, two dark marks growing larger and larger against the clouds as they streaked toward the earth.

“Don’t be scared,” said Dale from behind him, marching in step. “Harpies are awful creatures, but there won’t be any more. And we can protect you, just as well as Luke. Well, maybe not quite as well as Luke, that was an amazing shot—” “Serene’s shot was amazing too,” Elliot said grumpily. “Um, ah, sure,” Dale agreed. “The point is, I’m right behind you, and I have reflexes like a ferret!” “Go to the back of the squad, Cadet Wavechaser,” Commander Woodsinger said, with infinite weariness. “I’m going to be slightly farther behind you,” said Dale. “But not to worry!”

I really like Dale too!

When he saw something shining among the leaves, he froze, expecting it to be a weapon. A hush fell on their group as they realized that it was something entirely different. There in the clearing up ahead was a unicorn. It had a shape similar to a horse’s, but it was closer to the toy horse of a seven-year-old’s most fevered imagination than it was to any real animal. Its long, graceful lines seemed chased in silver, its mane and tail rippling in bright rivers and total defiance of gravity, and its horn was pearl. It turned and observed them with one tranquil dark eye, a pool that beckoned as well as shimmered,

He grabbed at a low-hanging branch, pulled himself up, and then leaned down and looped his arm around Commander Woodsinger’s waist, lifting her off her feet. If she hadn’t got hold of the branch and helped haul herself up, he might have dropped her on the creature. Accidentally impaling your commander on a unicorn was bound to lead to expulsion. “Well lifted, Cadet,” said the commander in a tone of faint surprise. “Thanks,” said Elliot. “Mean bullies make me exercise.” He looked down at the unicorn. He saw, suddenly, that it wasn’t as lovely as he had thought at first. Its shiny horn was too sharp, and its eyes were red with the light of murder. It was the Venus flytrap of pretty ponies.

The unicorn lowered its head, charged, and rammed the tree. Its horn plunged into the bark and was then withdrawn. The leaves all shook as if they were in a storm, and the trunk shuddered as if it had been struck by lightning. “Cadet Schafer! Kindly stop antagonising the unicorn!”

“Don’t worry!” said Serene from the trees. “All of these young blushing men are unmarried, so I am certain a great many of them are pure!” There was a long silence. Embarrassment reigned among the trees. “How about you, Dale?” Elliot asked, desperate. “Um—afraid I can’t help you,” Dale muttered. “I met this guy, Adam Sunborn, when we were sent to aid the patrol on the Northern border . . .” “Adam Sunborn!” Elliot exclaimed. “How could you, Dale? He is the worst!” “He’s not the worst! He’s a Sunborn!” Dale exclaimed, shocked in return. “And it’s not—it’s not as if there’s a huge amount of choice in the Border guard, if you like guys.” Elliot shook his head sadly, making the leaves rustle around him. “You can do so much better.” “Uh—thanks, Elliot!” Dale sounded gratified. After a pause, he ventured: “Commander, are you not . . . eligi—” “I am forty-eight years old!” snapped Commander Woodsinger. “Ladies have needs, Cadet.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he informed the leaves. “But could somebody fetch Luke?” “Cadet Schafer, I’m fairly certain that’s not going to help,” said Commander Woodsinger. “I mean this in the most impersonal and professional way possible, but have you seen Luke Sunborn?” “Yes,” Elliot said irritably. “Believe me, I don’t get it either.

It felt like a long time until Luke arrived, even though he came running and out of breath, and Elliot had more reason than anybody to know how fast Luke was. Luke did not immediately dart to the rescue, though. Instead, when he saw the unicorn, he stopped moving altogether. “Ah, Cadet Sunborn,” said Commander Woodsinger, with amazing aplomb for a woman stuck up a tree. “Thank you for your promptness. Cadet Schafer informed me that you might be possessed of the necessary qualities to deal with this situation.” “Did he,” Luke said, after a long, dark pause in which apparently all the blood in his body rushed to his ears. They were practically purple. Elliot grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. The horror on Luke’s face only deepened.

the unicorn seemed to wish only to rest its chin against Luke’s shoulder. “Oooh, it likes you,” Elliot said. “Shut up now and shut up forever,” said Luke. “Cuddling with the unicorn is not a productive way to spend your time,” Commander Woodsinger observed, while Elliot snickered and Luke looked cruelly betrayed by the universe at large. “Can you manage to lead the unicorn away?” “I can try,” Luke said in the hollow tones of one who had nothing but his duty left.

“Loath though I am to suggest you compromise your modesty in any way by disrobing . . .” Elliot kept thinking that there must be a limit to how scandalized Luke could seem about this situation, on a scale from slight-social-faux-pas to nudist-at-the-vicar’s-tea-party. Currently he was at Victorian-aunt-time-traveled-to-a-strip-club. Luke pulled off the blue jumper his dad had knitted for him at Christmas. It was immediately clear to everyone that it had been almost two years of continuous physical exercise since the time Luke used to go swimming in the lake and get swarmed by girls. There was a thump and a flutter of falling leaves, like a small localized storm of greenery. Dale Wavechaser had fallen out of his tree.

“Walk with me, Cadet Schafer,” said the commander, and they walked at the front of the troop. Elliot walked with his eyes on the horizon, watching for the Border camp. The commander spoke to him as they marched, and her words fell like blows. He concentrated on walking and not stumbling. “You were not supposed to be on this expedition,” said the commander. “That is not because I blindly follow military protocol, but because it was necessary that everyone on this trip have military training and be able to defend themselves. Are you able to defend yourself?” “No,” said Elliot, and when the commander gave him an inquiring look he spoke louder. “No.” “That means that other people have to put their lives at risk to defend you,” the commander said. “That is why you are forbidden to come on these missions, no matter how clever you think you are or how much you believe the rules should not apply to you. For the sake of other people’s lives. Do you understand now, or does someone have to actually die?” “I understand,” Elliot said through his teeth. He thought he might be sick. “And you will never, ever come on another military foray without my express permission?” “I won’t,” said Elliot. His mouth was dry. “I swear.”

Luke turned a baleful gaze upon him. “I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life,” he said. “And it’s your fault. I am going to bed.” “Luke,” Serene said, “you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Rather, you should feel proud that despite the urgings of your manly nature you have kept your virtue intact!”

“You’ve been insulted because you were with me—not just insulted by my mother, but I made so many mistakes, and I heard people whispering, I know what things my cousin must have—and all the time—” “I don’t care!” said Elliot. “I got insulted a few times? Don’t act like it’s never happened to me before. I know it’s happened to you before. As for the other stuff, what your mother and your cousin said, even the stuff you said sometimes, do you think the humans do it any better? Do you think I want to make a girl feel the same way I’ve been feeling? Relationships are difficult. Every world I know of is messed up.”

“I am—I’m serious about you,” Elliot said. “I’m not saying that any of this is easy. And you can—there could be years before you decide what you want. There will be more insults and more misunderstandings. I know that. But I . . . I really love you,” he said. “And I think we have a chance of making it work. If you love me back, enough to work through every difficulty, the way I love you.”

“I love you very dearly,” said Serene. “I would gladly die for you. But the kind of love needed for courtship . . .” “It’s fine if you don’t feel ready for courtship,” Elliot broke in. He hated himself for being so pathetic. He wished he could be nobody at all, as long as he could stop being himself and feeling like this. “I don’t think I could ever feel it,” Serene continued doggedly, as if he had never spoken. “Not for me,” Elliot finished for her, when she could not seem to. They could both hear the bitterness in his voice. “I’ll stop,” Elliot said. “I won’t be any more trouble. I won’t keep bothering you with—with feelings that aren’t your responsibility. But I need—I need to hear you say it. Could you just look at me and say it.” Serene was a soldier, before she was anything else. She was brave and never backed down from a challenge. She met his eyes when she spoke, and he saw how sorry she was to say it. “I do not think I could ever feel that way about you.” Elliot drew in a long shuddering breath. He’d asked for it, as he had asked to be hit once when he thought she and Luke might be dead. “I understand.”

“So you—made a mistake, and I got—carried away. Better to end it now, before anyone’s feelings are too hurt. I don’t want to mess up our friendship. I know you don’t either.” “Of course I don’t,” said Serene. “Elliot. You’re absolutely right.” Elliot wanted to smash things, wanted to shout things at her until she hurt as much as he did. But he couldn’t hurt her as much as she had hurt him. He didn’t have that kind of power over her, and that was not her fault: it was his.

“Yes,” said Serene. “It will be just like it was before.” It was nothing like it was before. He had never lied to her before, never acted a part to convince her. She was the only person who had ever liked him before he learned, however poorly, to be tactful and hide some portion of who he was. He felt as if he was losing that, as well as her, as he watched her walk out the door of his cabin.

I'm sad that their relationship died so quickly. I'm really not sure why...

As summer drew in, everyone was always determined to show off their athletic prowess to prove their absolute dedication and that they would not be slack during the holidays. Elliot was so looking forward to being slack over the holidays. He was not going to move a muscle, and he was going to read near a radiator, and he would not have to see Serene’s relief that the situation was resolved, and he would not almost get anyone killed. He would not have to try so hard because his father would not notice anything he did, and perhaps he would finally stop feeling cold. It was odd to think like this. He had never wanted to go back before. He could not help thinking of Peter’s father, who could never go back.

Commander Woodsinger even handed out little prizes to encourage morale, which Commander Rayburn would never have thought of doing. Elliot was amused to see the absolute dismay on Dale Wavechaser’s face when given the third prize of a book.

He smoothed a hand over the leather ridges of the spine, the uneven cover, and then opened it. It was cheap paper, for a book in the Borderlands where books were rarer and more precious. It was also a history book, and from the very first page Elliot could see that the so-called history was biased and inaccurate. He kept reading. Nobody had ever given him a birthday present before.

“We’re shown all this stuff we were trained to want, shown the great adventure, and we jump at it like the dazzled fools we are. We’re too young to know any better, to know that we won’t triumph and be heroes, that we won’t be returned to the other world as if no time had passed, that the lies in the stories aren’t about mermaids or unicorns or harpies—the lies are about us. The lies are that we might be good enough, and we might get out. We could fail at everything we try to do here, and we will never be able to go back home. Even if we wanted to.” A silence had descended on the little group. Nobody seemed inclined to make any further helpful points about harpies. “Look at you,” Elliot said softly. “How am I supposed to teach you? We’re all in a glittering trap, and too stupid to even realize it.”