by Bill Hiatt
The guys tossed the guards back through the portal, which Carla let collapse before any more could come through, but that didn’t solve the problem of the deteriorating walls and ceiling from which chunks of rock fell.
“We need another way out,” yelled Tal. “Orcutt’s too closely watched—by people well enough briefed to know what a portal is.”
“That leaves the shadows,” said Umbra in an emotionless voice that contrasted sharply with the chaos around her. “Put out the light.”
Amenirdis had conjured the glowing orb originally, and I had no idea how to put it out. Fortunately, Tal managed to give it enough of a magical nudge to wink out.
“Those of you who can see in the dark can guide the others. No! Light! We need light now!”
It was the first time I had heard fear in Umbra’s voice, and it was contagious. Being in complete darkness in a room that could collapse at any moment didn’t help.
Magnus was the first to respond. From the lyre, he drew a golden flash so bright I had to close my eyes. I heard screams, but they weren’t the screams of any human. Shrill and agonized, yet quiet as a distant wind, they forced my eyes open, but the screamers were gone.
Umbra lay in a heap on the floor, her right arm bleeding from a deep cut. Lucas ran to her as well as he was able. The floor hadn’t stopped shaking, but he moved across it as if it were still.
“I’m all right,” she said, but her voice was still shaky. “I’m immune to the dagger poison, remember?”
“Shadow assassins?” asked Lucas. “How?”
“These shadow assassins know nothing about our treaty with their counterparts in our world,” said Tal. “Hafez must have taken out a contract on us.”
He and Magnus had gotten the shaking down to a lesser but still steady vibration.
“That body upstairs can’t be Hafez,” said Shar. “Who else could hit us with ghosts, then an earthquake, then shadow assassins? Who else in this world would even want to?”
“We can keep the shadow assassins at bay with enough light,” said Magnus. “Whatever is causing that earthquake—not so much. It’s as if he concentrated every earthquake fault in the county, every ounce of seismic stress, against this room.”
“Apep…In the myths, Apep can cause earthquakes.” I’d forgotten the Egyptian mythology studies my mother had forced on me as a child, but I remembered them now.
“And Hafez can somehow access the power of Apep, just as you can access the power of Amun-Ra when you become Amenirdis,” said Tal.
“Interesting thing to study—later,” said Gordy, looking nervously up at the roof. “What we need right now is to get out of here.”
“The tunnel has caved in,” said Stan, frowning.
“Since we can’t leave by portal or shadow, and there’s no water here for a Lady of the Lake move, we’ll have to clear it or bore a new tunnel through the displaced rock,” said Tal. “We can do that and keep this room from collapsing, but we need to start soon.”
“Ghosts!” Jimmie was gasping as if he were running out of air.
“How?” asked Tal. “We just—wait, our protection against ghosts is cracking as badly as the walls.”
“It has to be the staff,” said Stan. “Nothing else could be—”
“No time for theory,” said Magnus. “Time for action.”
“The ghosts are just a delaying tactic,” said Shar, drawing his sword. “Keep us busy until the walls collapse, and we get crushed.”
Tal and Magnus kept pressing back against the walls, their efforts supported by Viviane and Carla. That left them no extra magic to use against the ghosts. Worse, the ghosts, adapting to what weapons we had, shifted back and forth between solid and immaterial form. The antimagic aura of Shar’s blade and the blessing of David’s banished the ghosts they struck, solid, or not, and Khalid’s arrows at least weakened them. Everyone else’s weapons only did damage unless their target was solid enough to cut or pierce.
“This isn’t right!” yelled Gordy after his sixth miss. “Ghosts can’t change state this fast.”
“Hafez is empowering them,” said Eva as she launched another futile arrow.
“What do you want?” asked Jimmie. It took me a second to realize he was talking to the ghosts. Evidently, what they wanted was to not talk to him, because he staggered from another invisible blow and hit the ground with a thud. Eva knelt next to him to make sure he was all right.
“I can help!” yelled Ceridwen from her cell. “I can open portals to many places in Santa Brígida. Hafez couldn’t have guards waiting at all of them.”
The floor shook so violently that it cracked from one end to the other.
“Shar, do the honors,” said Tal through clenched teeth.
“She’s not sworn or bound,” yelled Magnus, his face reddening.
“There’s no time,” said Tal. We could hold off one of these menaces indefinitely, but not all three. We’ll have to chance it.”
A fist-sized chunk of rock hit the floor.
“Alex, help me with the door,” yelled Shar as he did a wobbly run toward the cell. The keen edge of Alex’s curved blade, not useful against insubstantial targets, sliced through the bars as if they were butter. As soon as they were cut away enough for Shar to get through, he disappeared into the cell. The room flashed green as his sword clanged loudly against the chain. The next blow caused an emerald explosion, and the chain broke.
Shar came back into the chamber, pulling Ceridwen along behind him. She was unsteady on her feet, but the fear I’d seen in her eyes before was gone. As if it were second nature to her, she opened a portal in seconds, undeterred even by the lump of rock that missed her by an inch.
I moved toward the portal as well as I could, falling a couple times in the process. One by one, we stepped through to safety. Just before I went through, I glanced back.
Ceridwen was smiling. Was it because she was free, or because she’d conned us?
I looked away and stepped through. Whatever waited on the other side had to be better than what we faced here.
Old Unfamiliar Places
Passing through the portal was more disorienting when I could see what was happening. I went from silver glow in the sub-basement to misty daylight in a forest fast enough to make me queasy.
“You’ll get used to it,” said Khalid, patting me on the shoulder.
“Is this…a park in Santa Brígida?”
The teenager snickered. “No, this is Annwn, the kingdom of the Welsh faeries. It’s possible to open a portal from one spot on Earth to another, but it takes a lot more energy. It’s easier to travel to a more magical place and then to your final destination.”
“So this is not a parallel universe? It’s…what was Stan saying before? Another plane of existence?”
“Yup,” said Stan. “You’re catching on quicker than most people would.”
He looked around, and his eyes narrowed.
“However, I don’t understand why we’re stopping here. A sorcerer with enough experience in portal travel can make the journey appear almost seamless, moving the passengers gently from portal to portal so that they perceive it as a simple trip from one point to another. There isn’t usually a need to stop—and certainly not this long.”
I glanced over in the direction of the portal, which was now closed. Like Stan, the others were looking around. Their tense postures made them seem stiff as department store mannequins.
Ceridwen looked more frantic than stiff as her eyes darted back and forth. Magnus had his eyes fixed on her as if he were certain she was going to betray them all at any moment.
“What’s wrong?” Tal asked Ceridwen. Magnus looked as if he wanted to spit on him.
“I’m sure I’m not welcome in Annwn. I should open another portal and get us out of here, but magic is harder than I thought it would be. I should have known after so many years. I need a moment to collect myself.”
“If someone comes, we can explain what’s happening, can’t we?” aske
d Gordy. “If that doesn’t work, we can ask to be taken to Gwynn ap Nudd. He’d believe us.”
“He wouldn’t have the first clue who we were,” said Stan. “Remember, this isn’t the same Annwn we’ve visited—and it wouldn’t be the same Gwynn we’d be taken to.”
“I hate this parallel universe stuff.” Gordy looked around as if the scenery were some kind of affront to him. “I can hardly wait to get back home.”
“I’m…I’m not sure where to go from here,” said Ceridwen. “I don’t know whether Hafez has people in Santa Brígida or what the legal status of my property is. Knowing I had enemies, I did set up a trust arrangement in the event I had to go into hiding for a while, but I never anticipated disappearing for twenty-one years. I might have lost…everything.”
“Someone could have started proceedings after five years,” said Tal. “Stan—”
“I’d have to be on Earth to connect to the internet. What we need to do is find a safe, neutral location from which we can investigate a little. Santa Brígida’s too close to Hafez if we don’t know the status of Ceridwen’s home and business. For all we know, he could have found a way to take control of her assets himself.”
Ceridwen’s eyes widened in horror. “I never thought of that. But once I prove I’m alive—”
“Which will be easier if you live long enough to do it,” said Tal. “Is there any place you could open a portal to where we’d be safe, at least for a short time?”
“Uh, over the centuries I did set up safe houses. They’re in isolated areas, not listed in any of my records, and magically concealed. The one I updated most recently is in Wales, near the village of Caerwys.”
“Can you open a portal now? I’d—”
An arrow struck the tree right next to Tal.
“I arrest you in the name of Gwynn ap Nudd!” yelled a voice so loud it must have been magically amplified.
I looked up. Two dozen archers dressed in red, white, and black were floating in the air above us. Their eyes bored into me—as their arrows would if we resisted. The first one had just been a warning shot.
“We are just passing through!” Tal yelled back. “We mean no harm to you or any of the Tylwyth Teg. Nor did we intend any disrespect to Gwynn ap Nudd by our inadvertent trespass into his realm.”
“Your words are fair—but hollow,” replied one of the archers, presumably the leader. “If you travel with that woman, your trespass is no accident. For centuries, she has never come here without evil intent. Being in her company convicts you just as surely as if we had caught you murdering one of us.”
I was sure I was no longer connected to Tal’s network, yet I started hearing their voices in my head. Had I reconnected spontaneously? It sent chills up my spine to think my mind was that much in synch with people I hardly knew—and that was the best possibility.
The worst was that Amenirdis, who had destroyed the connection, had figured out some way to restore it. I didn’t feel any other obvious sign of her presence, not even the beginnings of a headache. Still, I needed to ask someone like Viviane, just in case.
“Maybe we could get Gwynn to believe us,” thought Stan.
“We have no proof,” thought Tal.
“Then we fight our way out,” thought Magnus. I got more chills. He sounded as if he were aching to shed blood.
“No!” thought Tal.
“We know you are powerful, but do not try to use your magic,” said the faerie leader. “We can plant an arrow in each of you before you can complete a spell.”
“And if we did manage to strike first, we could injure some of them, and they’re not evil. Besides, Gwynn would never forgive such an act. He’d take the risk of hunting us back to Earth if he had to. We don’t need one more enemy.”
“Well, what is it to be—surrender, or an arrow through the heart?”
“We are on a mission of some urgency,” said Tal. “We will submit ourselves to the judgment of Gwynn ap Nudd, but we ask that he come here and listen to us plead our case first.”
“We cannot,” whispered Ceridwen. “You he might free—but he will never let me go.”
The faerie leader snorted. “Our king will not be ordered about by criminals.”
“Yet our crime is not yet proven,” said Tal. “I had thought the name ‘Fair Folk’ meant something more than a description of your physical appearance. We must return to Earth to block a scheme by someone of great power. When Gwynn has heard our plea, he will see its justice. Until then, we will lay our weapons upon the ground as a show of good faith. Should he rule against us, we will accept his decision.”
The faerie leader scowled. “I like this not, but our king is indeed just, and he has never yet refused to hear a plea. Lay down your weapons, and I will send word to him of your request.”
Tal placed his sword on the ground, and the others followed his example. Magnus alone hesitated, but after a glare from Tal, he placed the Lyre of Orpheus on the pile of swords, daggers, and bows.
The faerie leader nodded in approval. “One of the birds of the air will wing its way to the castle with your message.”
“This is outrageous,” thought Magnus. “Someone could portal there—”
“It’s the faerie leader’s way of reminding us who’s in charge,” said Tal. “The bird will be enchanted to fly faster, and it may even be someone will open a portal for it a short distance from here. They’re just reminding us that whatever we get from them is their gift, not our right.”
The faeries kept their arrows trained on us, and they never looked away, even for a second. From what Tal had said, they couldn’t hear our mental messages, but the way they looked at me made me feel as if they could see straight into my soul.
“I thought you said we had no way to convince Gwynn we were telling the truth,” thought Gordy.
“We have no other choice,” thought Tal. “It’s going to be a few minutes—maybe hours—before Gwynn shows up. We don’t know the Gwynn of this world, but maybe we can use what we know of our Gwynn to work out a proof he’d accept.”
“For what it’s worth, the alterations on Earth all seem to be due to Amen Hafez,” thought Stan. “That doesn’t mean other things aren’t different, but the stuff I had time to check all looks the same. That could mean events in Annwn—aside from our visits—unfolded as they did in our Annwn. If that’s the case, this Gwynn probably tried to find out about parallel worlds the same as ours did.”
Tal was staring at the pile of weapons. “There’s an extra dagger in there.”
“That’s mine,” thought Khalid. “You know, the one our Gwynn gave to me. I wear it for luck event though I used its wish a long time ago.”
A portal burst open—more of a silver explosion than a swirl. Through it stepped Gwynn. Unlike the others, I had never met him, but the silver crown on his head glowed with an almost blinding brightness—he had to be the king. He was taller than the other faeries and considerably more muscular. The other faeries had light skin, but Gwynn’s was almost as dark as mine. His armor looked heavy, but he moved as if it were silk rather than steel. The sword at his belt looked as if it could fell a tree in one blow. Considering what I’d been through, I thought I was holding up pretty well, but his grim expression made me want to run to the nearest cave I could find and hide there.
An entourage followed him through the portal including, to judge from the power throbbing from them, at least a dozen faerie sorcerers. There were enough extra archers to make pincushions of us several times over. There was also a sooty man in a blacksmith’s leather apron and a pale and fine-featured woman of regal bearing who wore a silver crescent moon in her hair.
“Who has interrupted my council of war to show leniency where none is called for?” asked Gwynn, his right hand firmly planted on his sword.
“It is I, Majesty,” said Tal. “I ask for no leniency, but only for justice. Your men have detained my party without cause.”
Gwynn laughed, but the sound of it was bitter, not mirthful. �
��You came into my realm uninvited with the witch Ceridwen, a fugitive from my justice. I would hardly call that being detained without cause. They would have been within their rights to plant an arrow in your heart.”
“Why is he at war?” asked Shar. “Annwn isn’t at war with anybody in our world.”
“Stan, try to figure out how Hafez might have caused a faerie war,” thought Tal. Without skipping a beat, he said to Gwynn, “That Ceridwen has past sins for which she should atone I do not deny, but she brought us here only to ease travel from one point on Earth to another. We would have long been gone had your men not stopped us.
“As for the lady’s efforts to twist the mortal world for her own purposes, which I presume is the reason you passed sentence on her, she has suffered much for it. We freed her from an imprisonment of more than twenty years. If that is insufficient to satisfy your justice, I ask that you parole her to us and let her serve out the remainder of her sentence by doing good to balance the evil she has done in the past. We have much need of her help to prevent someone with a far more evil plan than hers.”
“I doubt Ceridwen will ever do good again.” Gwynn’s face was as immovable as stone. If his determination to keep us was as inflexible, we were done for.
“Smart man,” muttered Magnus.
“The lady has agreed already to be bound by tynged to do good rather than evil,” said Tal. “I am willing to be bound to bring her back to you myself if she finds some way to break faith with me.”
“A tynged may not easily be broken—but there are ways around such a binding if one is clever enough,” said Gwynn. “I deem you clever enough. Why should I take you at your word?”
“You have good reason to trust me, but to explain why, I need to ask about research regarding parallel worlds.”
Gwynn’s stony face cracked in the volcanic eruption of his anger. “My questioning of the seers on that topic was a secret of the highest level. You could not know of it unless you had been spying on me. Guards—”
