In Other Lands

by Sarah Rees Brennan

Normally, Elliot refused weird propositions from potentially demented strangers. But there was the wall, and the undeniable fact that other people could not see or touch it, and this really was like something out of a book. Elliot did not think he would be able to live with the curiosity if he did not go.

Elliot especially did not like the “other kids” aspect of magic land. Elliot had “does not interact well with peers” on all his report cards. If the teachers had been more precise, what they would have said was “does not shut up well around stupid people,” but that was teachers for you.

She was tall, slim, and strong-looking as a young birch tree, and as she turned her long dark hair spun out in the steadily blowing wind. It formed a trail of darkness, touched by autumn leaves twined around her tresses: her pale face stood out in sharp relief, and so did the pearl-pale curling points of her ears. This was an elf maiden.

“When you said peoples, you mean humans, elves, dwarves and . . . ?” Please say mermaids, he thought. Please say something cool with wings. “Mermaids,” said Serene. He could have kissed her.

“This country is called the Borderlands, though,” he said. “And the Border means the giant magic wall?” Surfer Dude nodded and smiled his happy smile. “Yes.” “And humans came from across the Border,” Elliot said. “Did we invade?” He leaned forward. “Tell me right now, are we engaged in a system of colonial oppression?” The boy’s happy smile melted away, like ice-cream in relentless verbal sunshine. “I don’t know . . .,” said Surfer Dude helplessly, “what most of the words you just used mean.”

Mocking people who didn’t get it was kind of pointless, like throwing sharp weapons into pudding.

So Blondie was basically the scary warrior equivalent of a trust-fund kid, the kind who had their pictures in the paper on the regular. One of life’s born winners, with golden luck to go with the hair. No wonder he was glaring over at Elliot, looking betrayed and unhappy as a wet cat, as if nothing like being laughed at had ever happened to him before.

“What I am attempting to communicate,” he explained to the captain, “is that I want to be anywhere that guy is not.” He pointed to Blondie, who he felt was a helpful illustration of everything Elliot did not like in human form. Luke Sunborn stared at him in outrage, and Elliot used his pointing hand to give him a little wave.

“How would it be if Serene skipped the earliest classes, and you remembered the lessons and trained her? And while you train her, I could read to her and try to catch her up in our lessons so she won’t have to study late. She’ll have to multi-task, but she won’t be too exhausted to do it.” Luke thought this over, and then nodded. “All right. So we’ll work together on this. Truce?” “For the year,” said Elliot hastily. “We’re not friends.” “I’m not confused on that issue,” said Luke.

“If you must know, she is the one soul destined for my own, and we are going to be together forever,” he declared loftily. “That’s weird,” Luke told him. “We’re thirteen.” “I don’t care what you think!” “Elliot, don’t yell, we’ll get thrown out,” Serene grumbled,

Spending time with Luke was not actually as painful as Elliot had assumed it would be. Not that Elliot intended to let him know that.

He would’ve thought about being a teacher when he grew up, but Elliot knew himself, and he knew that the impressionable and tenderhearted should be protected from him.

Elliot was an expert in people being unhappy to see him.

His classmates regarded him with expressions of exhaustion that Elliot found hurtful. They had only known him for a few weeks. People as young as they were should have more stamina.

Myra and Peter stared at him. Elliot stared challengingly back. “You know, Luke Sunborn!” Peter said. Elliot shook his head firmly. “Not ringing a bell, sorry.” “He’s famous!” said Peter. “His whole family is famous!” “How nice for him,” said Elliot. “Whoever he may be.” “And he’s very handsome,” Myra said softly. “I don’t know anyone handsome,” Elliot lied,

By the way, do people think this world is flat? Is it flat? What happens if you try to cross the sea?” “If you sail into the deepest ocean, you are killed by giant mermaids,” Peter said flatly. “Fascinating,” Elliot sighed. “You’ve made me very happy.”

She might sympathetically express her opinion of men’s weakness at every turn, but she had this belief in Elliot, despite the fact that she was the best cadet warrior in the Border camp and based on what Elliot did not know.

He smiled reassuringly at Dale, and across the field he saw Luke break into a run. He picked up the first knife that came to hand. “Watch this,” he said, and threw the knife at Dale.

How does being stronger or more vicious prove anything, except that all this talk about honor is stupid? Where’s the honor in being better at hurting somebody? Telling me I have to do this is insulting, as if I can’t win any other way. As if I can’t win in a better way.”

“Oh, the elf’s little ginger boyfriend” in a despairing and, Elliot considered, unprofessional manner. “What have you been doing now?” “Staged a pacifist protest,” said Elliot. “Also, Serene and I have not defined the parameters of our relationship yet, though I have high hopes.”

He smiled at her, and she told him: “If the camp is attacked, I swear to protect you.” “And if we’re both dead, the odds are pretty good you’ll annoy people until they chop off their own heads in sheer frustration,” said Luke.

“I have no idea why you would think I might want to go and watch your ridiculous game, loser,” Elliot said. “The truce doesn’t extend that far. I have no interest in the game or you, and I already see your face more often than I would prefer.” “Suit yourself,” Luke snapped. “Have fun washing dishes while I’m winning and everybody else is cheering for me.”

For about five minutes, Elliot almost wanted him to win. But then Luke looked over at Serene a few too many times and the crowd leaped up and cheered for him a lot too many times, and Elliot retreated to his book and sulked

“You have to come to the picnic,” he said. “Why?” Elliot snapped. “My parents are expecting you,” Luke said reluctantly, as if each word were a tooth that had to be pulled. “Why?” Elliot repeated inflexibly. “I don’t know why, Elliot!” Luke snapped back. “I didn’t tell them you were coming. But they asked where you were, and I said you were in the library, and they said to go fetch you then.”

Weird magic land might not have electricity, but he had to admit it was full of hotties.

“You are just like I thought you would be from Luke’s letters,” she said. “Come sit by me, Elliot, and tell me how you got Luke to actually learn facts about ancient history.” “Mum!” said Luke.

“You’re not going to die of a chill,” said Luke. “I will give you my cloak if you promise to shut up.” “I may well die of a chill, I refuse to shut up, and I’ll take your cloak,” said Elliot.

The captain was talking about how the guard kept the peace through their willingness to defend it with blades, and about how battle was a regrettable but necessary consequence of disobedience. Luke was coughing as if he actually had caught a chill. A beautiful peace was descending on Elliot: he knew precisely what he had to do.

Even if you found yourself in a magical story, there were no guarantees that you were the hero, or that you would get the things you dreamed of.

of the drawings of the great naval battle four hundred years ago, made out in cerulean and gold, which he thought Luke would like. In return Luke said that he did think it was possible that the mermaids of the deep sea communicated through hand gestures rather than speech, and asked Elliot to read the awful bit about battle tactics again.

“Why wait until Serene’s here?” inquired Louise, coming in late and mussed with her dark-haired friend, who would have been very pretty standing beside anyone but Louise. “I’ll kick both the brats off the tower as soon as dinner’s over.”

“Where have you been?” Elliot demanded. “Looking for you!” Luke snapped back. “How was I supposed to know you were off hiding in trees, you lunatic?”

“You sang the song to me and Mum.” “That was not my song,” said Elliot. “That song belongs to the Beatles.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Elliot, beetles do not write songs.”

Everyone looked happy, looked excited: looked as if they could not ask for anything more than a battle won. This world was stupid, and everyone in it was stupid. Elliot was stupid, too, for being happy in this house full of stupid people who were all going to get themselves killed.

Elliot had noticed that referencing his previous schooldays often made Luke give him his way, but apparently not this time.

“It’s okay that it’s—bright,” said Luke. “It means I can find you, when you’re in trouble.” “I don’t know why you would suggest the possibility of me being in trouble,” said Elliot.

Luke could have literally any girl he wanted. Adara was right there, and Elliot had specially selected her as an excellent option. Why did it have to be Serene? Elliot glanced over at Adara, and she looked like she completely agreed. He felt some fellow feeling for the poor girl.

“Is there some kind of taboo against seeing a woman’s breasts in human culture?” asked Serene. “Breasts are functional. They feed children. Whereas I know many men cultivate their shoulder and abdominal muscles merely to attract the opposite sex. Their chests are the ones that are more decorative and which it is less modest to display!” “You know, she’s making another good point,” said Elliot.

“Told you the lake sucked,” Elliot muttered, and Serene laughed a small broken laugh. “It’s the eppy tomb of suck,” Luke said. There was a pause. “The what?” Elliot asked. “The eppy tomb,” said Luke. “I read it in a book. It means, like, the very definition of—” “I know what it means,” said Elliot. “And it’s pronounced epitome.”

“Oh dear, a child,” said Serene, moving backward with more alacrity than elven grace. “Could someone fetch a man to see to it?” The group stared at her, as one. “In elven society caring for the children is considered a task for the menfolk,” said Elliot, sighing and wondering why nobody else ever bothered to read a book.

“Luke, Luke,” Elliot said urgently. “Will you look after mine and Serene’s children? I’m starting to have some real worries about Jasper and Smooth-Skin-Like-Finest-Porcelain’s well-being.” “You’ve named your children,” said Luke, with extreme and offensive skepticism. “Yes, one elven name and one human name. I wish to be fair.” “You’ve named them Smooth Jazz?” “Look, apparently I’ll be raising them, let me have my fun,” Elliot snapped.

Redheads,” she murmured. “I get it now, Serene. He’s a taking little thing, in an odd way. Grows on you.” “That was maybe my first ever compliment from a lady,” Elliot said. “Thank you for making it absolutely awful. Oh my God.”

“There are also simply some women, warriors and not, who can never be tempted by the shining hair and alluring chests of men,” said Serene. “Sure,” said Elliot. “Guys too. I mean, by women.” Serene frowned. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, a guidance counselor gave me a ton of pamphlets over this guy called Simon,” said Elliot. “I’ll show you some.” “It just seems so unlikely, given that men cannot truly feel the pulse of desi—” “It’s true,” Luke said abruptly, “and if you two start talking like you did last night in front of strangers I will put my head in the fire.”

went off to deliberately pick a fight with the remains of the Trigon team. He didn’t even realise that was what he was doing until he spat out another mouthful of malice at Richard Plantgrown. “Look,” snapped Richard, “you can be as much of a little snot as you want. Luke Sunborn told us if we laid a finger on you while he was gone, he’d have our heads.” “Luke Sunborn needs to learn to mind his own business,” snapped Elliot, and at least the others looked like they agreed with him there.

For a fourteen-year-old to come to the fore as the obvious leader, others must have made the choice, conscious or not, to step back. Elliot did not know how they could live with letting this happen, letting someone this young be the leader and the sacrifice.

“Well, why are you being so quiet?” “I can’t believe you just asked me that question. Are you aware that nobody in the history of time has ever asked me that question?” Elliot demanded. “Has it struck you that you are being a little hard to please right now, loser?”

“It’s pretty good,” Serene told him, in her measured way. “I love the bit about the trolls cooperating on farming in the south fields in exchange for help with mining equipment.” Elliot shrugged modestly instead of saying “Oh baby, talk treaties to me.” “Well.”

They did not look like heroes but like sleepy, dirty children. Elliot felt like a little kid himself, confused and helpless, not able to deal with the world at all. Their heads were leaning together on his pillow, the gold and the dark, ruffled and mingling. Elliot felt like he should maybe smooth them or something.

Nobody understood. He had tried to share his awesome stash of office supplies from the other world, but Serene claimed she had an allergy to plastic, Myra had poked herself in the eye with a Sharpie, and the one time Elliot had felt pleased enough with Luke to award him a pen, Luke kept it like a souvenir rather than ever actually trying to use it.

“You know I hate violence in all its forms,” Elliot announced. “And if you wanted to sit out this stupid contest, I would be supportive.” Luke tilted his head inquiringly. “What would you being supportive even look like? I’ll pass. It would be too much of a shock to my system.” “Okay, that token protest made,” said Elliot.