As Water Reflects the Face
Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom, Chapter 22
Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom is a serialised, young adult, fantasy novel about an overconfident bookworm who finds himself in a parallel world where words are weapons, ideologies form fortresses, and intelligence without integrity may just cost you everything. If you’re new here, you can start from the beginning or check out the index.
RECAP: Keon’s suspicion about Wellworn’s identity grows as they reach the Eastern Monument; an island city on top of the gigantic dragon blood tree. There, Keon and Asya learn that they are both heirs of the Kingdom of Pnūmanora, the Forehidden Kingdom . . . and that Wellworn is its Coming King.
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Dawn smiled on the fresh faces of the Millionth and Fifth the morning after their narrow escape from Midnah-Dogu. They had risen early, eating a hearty breakfast of fresh bread from the night before. Somehow, those loaves never grew cold and always tasted as fresh as when they were first pulled from the oven. It was something Keon looked forward to every morning. They’d made quick progress, trudging through the deep valleys of Meshech. Unlike before, there were no efforts to conceal their movements. They walked boldly out in the open.
Keon tightened his harness and picked up his pace, Asya and Zahara eyeing him curiously as he went. Realising they were both watching him, they swiftly tore their gazes away.
Dawit had been fully restored to his old self since meeting up with Wellworn. He trod through the grass with a spring in his step, his chin raised to the horizon. Keon hop-skipped to draw up alongside him.
“Hey Dawit, you got a minute?” he asked in hushed tones.
“Always,” he beamed.
‘Always’ except for when they first entered Midnah-Dogu. He had little time for his questions then. Even still, he’d started to wonder whether Dawit getting stricken was partially his fault. He glanced from side-to-side, making sure no one else was listening in.
“Does Wellworn have a name?”
“Yeah,” Dawit chuckled. “Wellworn.”
Keon frowned with impatience.
“Don’t gas, bro. It’s like everywhere we go, someone’s got a different name for him. ‘Dawn-Son’, ‘Scarred Warrior.’ What’s his real name?”
“What makes you think ‘Wellworn’ isn’t his real name?” said Dawit with feigned bewilderment.
Keon popped a shrug.
“Might be, might not. Sounds like a nickname or an alias to me. Like ‘Strider’ or ‘Elessar’”
“What and what?”
“Come on fam! Lord of the Rings? Aragorn?”
Dawit raised an eyebrow.
“Brother, you’re just throwing random words at me…”
Keon clawed his face in impatience.
“He was a descendent of the sons of Elendil and heir to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor, raised by Elves. He changed his name to ‘Estel’ to hide his identity from Sauron.”
Dawit frowned.
“I mean Wellworn wasn’t raised by Elves, but…”
“I’m just sayin’! It’s a comparison!...” he took a deep breath and grabbed his composure, realising the others were starting to stare. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Look, what I’m sayin’ is, in Lord of the Rings, Aragorn went by different names to hide who he really was. I think Wellworn’s doing the same. I don’t think that’s his real name.”
Dawit swallowed his eyes with that cherubic smile of his.
“Well, why don’t you ask him?”
He’d never asked him. Something had told him that once he took that truth out that box, he’d be hard pressed to put it back. Part of him hadn’t wanted to know; to admit what now seemed so obvious. Somehow, it changed everything yet made sense of everything; and that scared him, probably more than anything else he’d seen. Hence, he was running. Maybe if he ran far enough, the truth wouldn’t catch him.
Wellworn had another name; a big name. One Keon knew well. It didn’t make sense. It went against everything he thought he knew about the world. And if this was true, he knew he had to make a choice. He wasn’t ready for that. There was no time for that.
He ran down the meandering path that led up to the sycamore fig, tore through the humid rainforest, then turned and ran in a direction other than the one they had come from. They would expect him to go that way and he didn’t want to be followed.
More time passed than he cared to take note of. Eventually he found himself standing by a wide pool fed by a trickling stream that ran down the adjacent hill before dribbling off the edge of a small cliff. This was as good a place as any to catch his breath.
Stooping down, he splashed water over his face, cupped his hands, and drank deeply. There were things he hated about Underland, but the water wasn’t one of them! He let his hands droop to his knees and stared into the rippling surface of the pool, waiting for his reflection to stabilise. He looked past the mirror-image of his shoulders, down into the empty trees and sighed in relief.
“Keon!”
He jumped and his shoulders sank. Every. Single. Time.
He turned wearily as Asya clawed her way into the clearing, tired droplets of sweat trickling down her forehead.
“He told you where to find me, didn’t he?” he said.
She nodded.
“Flip sake…” he muttered, returning to stare at his reflection.
“I don’t get it. I thought this was what you wanted?” she asked, stepping forward.
He shook his head.
“This isn’t what I came here for, Asya. This is…I ain’t got time for this! Neither does he.”
Her brow rippled.
“What do you mean?”
He turned to her, and a chill flushed through her body. A fractured vulnerability crossed his face, glistening in his eyes. Then the water came alive.
His reflection erupted from the pool, grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into the water.
“KEOOON!”
She scrambled to the edge of the pool, her fingers gripping the earth, and stared into the shallow, still waters.
He was gone.
Keon barely had time to gasp for air before the water slapped him in the face. He felt his ears pop, air rush past his face, then the fluid in his body suddenly pooled towards his back. All his weight seemed to shift. Rather than sinking through the water, he found himself spinning up and over through the air before slamming onto dry ground. For a moment he lay motionless, groaning, before attempting to roll onto his side. He couldn’t move. Something was pinning him down by the shoulders. He barely had the strength to do anything. Slowly, he opened his eyes—and his own deep browns stared back at him.
He jerked to attention, still pinned fast. The Mirror looked down at him, a flash of white light glinting deep in its pupils. A wider-than-life smile crawled across its face. His face.
“Focus on yourself too much and you might just attract your Mirror. They can travel through reflections.”
Bloody hell, he thought. Kai was right.
“Found you,” it hissed.
Suddenly, he was wrenched up and dragged across the ground by the scruff of his hood. His eyes rolled back in his skull as a spell of dizziness showered over him. When they re-opened, everything had grown darker. Wisps of orange, red and purple tinted the sky-ocean and peeked through the canopy. Zaphon was setting. Had he blacked out? He tried moving, lifting an arm at least but all strength had left him.
“Where’re…where’ryou takin’ me?” he slurred.
“No idea, fam,” came the response, like an echo. Hearing his own voice reflected back at him through words he hadn’t spoken was disorientating, as though his body was being controlled by a ventriloquist. “What I do know is I had to find you. Now that I’ve found you, we’re gonna talk.”
A sharp force yanked him violently backwards. The next thing he knew he’d been flung into a tree trunk. He slumped to the ground, dazed. This thing was so strong it was unreal. He couldn’t lift someone his own weight let alone fling them one-handed. As his head dangled onto his chest, he slowly peeled his eyes open. The Mirror was squatting a few paces in front of him smiling. On its face, his smile looked sinister. Scheming.
“That outfit looks stupid,” it said.
“I like it,” he croaked.
“Course you do. It’s the stupid kind of thing you’d like.”
Keon looked around. They were in the midst of a clearing, trees walling them in all around. He pushed himself up slightly against the tree trunk.
“It’s not safe out here…when it gets dark,” he groaned.
“I’ve made it this far without your help. I don’t need it now.” It suddenly belched and cradled its stomach. “Though you could’ve at least eaten something before you left. Damn!”
Keon frowned. This thing was far more intelligent than he’d thought. In some unnerving way, it really was like looking in a mirror, albeit a twisted one. Its skin was dull and dry, almost grey, as though it had never been exposed to light. It was still caked all over with dirt and only had a filthy rag for clothing. Its hair hung long as though it’d never been cut, the strands all clumped together in matted, muddy locks, that reached down to its backside.
“Right—so—like I said, we need to talk.”
“About what?” said Keon.
“About why we’re here.”
“You mean my Dad?”
The Mirror slowly shook its head.
“Our Dad. And nah, before that.”
Keon wobbled the confusion from his face.
“We weren’t here before that.”
“We were,” the Mirror nodded.
It stared up at the canopy, grinning.
“We had a whole life here in Underland. In the Stronghold. Things were good. We were one. We were in sync. Then something happened. One day, I woke up in chains. Nothing made sense anymore…until you arrived that is. That’s when I realised. You’re part of me. That other part of me. Some way, somehow, something had split us apart. We were out of balance. Unstable.”
Keon shuffled in his spot, twisting his aching body to the side.
“I thought you’re part of me?” he said.
The Mirror leapt up and landed in front of him, making him jolt.
“Ah well, that’s the question init? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The body or consciousness? The man or the Mirror? What if I’m the truth and you’re the reflection?”
“That ain’t it,” Keon scoffed, shaking his head. “I exist back home. You don’t.”
The Mirror’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t I?”
It looked from left to right, down to the ground, then stamped on a stray, sharp rock.
“AARGGH! Mother…” Keon jerked, grasping his foot.
The Mirror cocked its head to one side and chuckled.
“You see? I injure my foot, but you feel it. Why d’you think that is?”
“Ahhh!” Keon grimaced, “How’re you able to fling me around like that then? Why doesn’t it hurt you?”
The Mirror pursed its lips and shrugged, looking around.
“It’s different when it’s done by us to us, I think. Something hits you; I feel it. I hit you, something else happens,” it crouched down again. “But do you get it now? Every time you’ve ever felt something; you’re hungry, you’re thirsty, you’re tired, you’re—y’know—” it said, gesturing with a nod to the side. “That’s me. I’m the very flesh you live in. Your impulses. Your instincts. I’m more connected to the real world than you are.”
Keon’s eyes flickered, searching his thoughts.
“And if that’s true, then I think it stands to reason that I came first,” said the Mirror, palms pressed to the chest. “I mean, think about it; d’you remember being in the womb? D’you remember being born?”
Keon shook his head.
“Well, I do. Sounds. Tastes. Smells. I remember all of it. Every touch. Every scratch. Every itch. It’s like I have a record,” it said, putting an index finger to its temple. “And let’s be honest, most of the things you want are actually what Iwant.”
“What do you want?”
The Mirror smiled that Cheshire Cat grin and spread his arms wide.
“I just want things to go back to the way they were! Same as you. I want us to be happy. I want Dad to come home, for Zahara to like us…”
Keon scoffed looking away.
“I don’t think she’ll like you…”
The Mirror’s eyes narrowed, and its arms dropped.
“Oh, but you think she’ll like you, yeah? She don’t even know you. Not really. But she got a glimpse—that night when we met in the forest by the pool. Remember?”
The Mirror drummed its fingers on its chin.
“Now, if I remember correctly, she didn’t quite like what she saw, did she?”
“She saw you, not me,” Keon said, his fingers clenching the grass beneath him.
“Don’t act stupid! We both know that how I look on the outside is a reflection of you in your inside,” It cupped its hands over its mouth, stifling a snicker. “So, if I’m a mess, it’s ‘cause you’re a mess!”
Keon’s clawed fingers raked the grass and dirt.
“You’re lying.”
The Mirror sat cross-legged, wagging a finger at his nose.
“Ah, but see, that’s the one thing you do that I don’t. I don’t lie, fam. I always tell the truth. You’re the one that twists it. When I said those lot couldn’t help you—that you had to help yourself—I didn’t make no damn excuse about it afterwards. That was all you. I said it as it is.”
Keon averted his eyes from the Mirror’s sneer, his gaze sweeping the forest floor.
“People don’t like people like you, ‘cause you ain’t honest. You’re always tryna hide and wear a mask. They like people who are upfront, who are real. Rough ‘round the edges. You’re tryna keep your edges too clean, bruv. That’s why I’m taking over.”
Keon looked up, wide-eyes alert beneath his bent brow.
“What?”
The Mirror scratched his chin, looking around at nothing.
“‘Cause, I was tryna figure it out. What went wrong. What changed. Then I realised…it’s that book you’re hiding behind your back. Whoever gave you that book gave you control—which means the only way to fix this mess is to get it back,” it turned to stare at Keon. “Trust me, it’s what’s best for both of us.”
Bit by bit, Keon inched his left arm beneath his shawl and towards the harness.
“Y’know what I think?” the Mirror continued. “I think I’m the truth and you’re the lie. You’re the mask that keeps me hidden and I’m the one that keeps us alive. I’m the one that keeps us safe. You wanna fight for Dad, but who d’you think’s been fighting all this time? All you do is read an’ think an’ cry an’ moan. I get things done fam! You just sit there dreaming about Zahara when I can…”
Keon flinched forward.
“Whadidyou say?!”
“What?” said the Mirror, affronted. “You think you’re the part that likes her? You really think you like her mind or her personality when the first thing you noticed was how she looked? I was there fam. I know what we saw, and I know what we like…”
“You better shut your mouth…”
“What do you think she sees in you? You really think it’s your knowledge of books and not your sweet-boy, light-skin face? You think she was impressed ‘cause you knew where a flippin’ hospital would be built in the 1800’s rather than the fact that you bashed Gabriel Reid’s face in? You think I didn’t see?!” the Mirror said, accentuating each word with a thump of its chest. “Girls ain’t like that, bruv! They don’t want you! They want me! I’m the part that hooks them! I’m the part that gets things done!”
Keon’s shoulders heaved as he stared down at the ground between his legs.
“You get things done…but I don’t see you savin’ Dad…” he muttered.
The Mirror flinched a frown.
“You what?”
“You heard me! What good are you?! You don’t think! You just feel and eat and act on instinct—like a flippin’ animal! The only reason you’re free is ‘cause he helped break you out you moron!”
The words had barely escaped his mouth when the Mirror’s bony hand clamped around his throat. Any wit he had left didn’t make it past his tongue as he was hauled off the ground; the Mirror rearing up to its full height.
“You wanna see what I can do fam?!”
The Mirror threw him through the air, across the clearing and into a tree trunk. He flopped onto the ground and didn’t move. The Mirror stomped towards him, breathing heavily.
“You think you can fight? You ain’t even seen me at my best, bro!”
It flipped Keon off the ground and onto his back then stood over him, its legs straddling his body.
“And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna be the one making the decisions!”
Keon’s skull rattled and his vision sparkled white as the first fist connected with his jaw. Iron-laced crimson dripped from the corner of his mouth. The second fist snapped his head the opposite way, and he saw his own blood fly. Turns out you could bleed in Underland. Every blow to the head felt like his brain rebooted. He couldn’t think straight. He’d been hit before, but never like this. Whatever was loose in his core was getting knocked right out of him. Any sense of self or up or down was gone. Was this what it felt like to die? To have the life beaten out of you?
Then something happened. The rain of blows suddenly stopped. He coughed and spluttered, then inched a swelling eye open. The Mirror stood over him, arms hanging at its sides and sweat dripping from its brow. Laboured breaths heaved from its chest as it hunched over.
“When…was the last time…you flippin’ ate?” It gasped.
Keon felt strength returning to his body, the swelling on his face dying down.
The Mirror stumbled back, out of breath. Keon began scrambling backwards. The weaker the Mirror was becoming, the stronger he seemed to be getting. As it dropped to one knee, he was able to hop backwards onto his feet.
“I dunno what this is, but I like it,” he said, wiping the corner of his mouth.
“That’s not fair…” croaked the Mirror, staring at its trembling hands. “Don’t you dare!…You can’t leave me like this!”
“Y’know what?” said Keon, “I think I just might.”
He turned and ran into the forest.