The Remarkables (The Remarkable Owen Johnson, part 1) by A. D. Elliott

Mrs Argyle sighed. “But you’re quite right. If I know the boy he’ll only accompany us without any reasoning for what has transpired for so long. Maybe it would be best to tell him a few select truths to see how he handles it.”
    “Capital idea. But where to begin? Well, so far we’ve told him that his elderly next door neighbour is a decorated war hero. Perhaps we should add to the mix that we’re - how old are we now? One hundred and thirty years, is it?”
    “About that.”
    “Right, and how about we also tell him about the Provenance, their tower, him being the most powerful Remarkable I’ve encountered since the war, and as for his mother-”
    “Enough!” Mrs Argyle snapped. “You may jest but you go too far. There are things that aren’t to be spoken of; you should know that just as well as I do. The boy will be back soon, we’ll decide tomorrow how much he is to know.”
    “And this evening?”
    “Bore him with your music; at least it’ll help him sleep”.
    With that Owen heard Mrs Argyle’s footsteps move away. Owen delicately stepped off the barge and perched on a mooring post a few boats away from the Beggar’s Banquet. How could they be as old as they claim they were? Owen had seen the effects of plastic surgery and they rarely made people look convincingly younger. Had anyone ever lived to over one hundred and thirty? Owen didn’t think so.
    And the brief mention of his mother that brought on Mrs Arg yle’s anger was puzzling also. Why would his mother’s accident be a taboo subject?
    Then there were t he references to Owen being a powerful Remarkable, which seemed unlikely to him based on how he felt that his powers paled in comparison to what Ken, Mrs Argyle and the man in the trilby were capable of.
    A loud and distressed sounding “moo” from behind him made Owen stand and turn. His hands were suddenly tingling again and a light was coming from the field, along with the sounds of an increasingly agitated cow. The door of Ken’s barge opened further along the tow path.
    “ Myrtle!” Ken called out, and Owen saw him sprint towards the field, followed by Mrs Argyle, both of whom failed to notice Owen sitting in the near-darkness close by. They were soon out of sight so Owen ran to the fence at the edge of the field, leaving the groceries behind.
    From the middle of the field Owen could see the silhouette of Trilby, basked in light that seemed to b e emitting from all around him. His arms were out in front of him, held up towards the cow which in turn was crouched down on its front legs as if to pounce. Suddenly a great torrent of water knocked Trilby sideways.
    Ken was running towards him, his hands held forward in a similar fashion to how Trilby was holding his. Trilby landed on his side but shot to his feet as if bouncing off a trampoline and held an arm towards both the cow and Ken. Ken’s watery attack was no longer affecting its target, seemingly being absorbed by the white light which was now surrounded by a cloud of steam. Owen looked around quickly but could not see Mrs Argyle.
    The cow was now backing away from Trilby , and once he had taken about five steps he turned and galloped towards the edge of the field. Trilby moved his arms and concentrated his strange attack on Ken.
    Ken seemed to sag from this change of focus, his knees appearing to buckle under the strain but he maintained his heavy stream of water against the man that had followed Owen and Mrs Argyle all this way, the steam billowing out across the field.
    Ken seemed to be losing the fight as he was now on his knees as Trilby started walking towards him. Owen leapt over the fence to try and help but no sooner than his feet had hit the ground he saw a shape shoot through the air above him.
    Like something out of a superhero comic, Mrs Argyle was streaking through the sky, balancing herself with both hands pointed down by her hips and one leg tucked behind her. As she neared Trilby she leant forward and had both