Large round birthmarks in the shape of Valondian continents adorned the cheeks of the Sweyn royal family, of which James, and one day Jim, ruled. These dark brown splotches of skin usually rested beneath the left eye or lower down on the cheek of the male bloodline.
Margaret and her womanly kin, the equally venerable Ennis royal family, brandished similar marks on opposite cheeks. Prophets foretold the union of their great and powerful lines for centuries. Their hasty departure from Valonde and all their royal duties... was not.
The rune's buzz grew louder, drowning out the incessant babbling of the new kindergarten teacher. James cursed himself for bringing the rune out into public, but what choice did he have? Last night he'd come home late from the corn fields only to find his precious Jim entranced at their bedside table, swaying and chanting. The rune would take any Craig man it could, regardless of the cost.
By the rough nudge in his side, James knew he'd drifted off again. Keeping both his lives separate had become impossible. If he didn't find a way out, he'd lose everything. Another, sharper jab caught him under his ribs, making him gasp in pain. James turned to mouth a harsh 'what' to Margaret when he felt it.
A grubby, chocolate covered hand reached for the bright buzzing light in his pocket. James jumped, knocking over the child sized chair and rushed out of the classroom.
Chapter Two
James slammed the truck door and slouched low in the driver's seat. The rune's golden glow lit up the cab like a beacon, even through his pants pocket and both hands. The buzz of a thousand screaming voices reverberated in his ears until he could nearly make out their words. Valonde needed him. That much was certain. And he could do nothing about it.
It called to him again, beckoning. James knew better than to touch the warm round medallion. It would only spell disaster for both worlds, Valonde and Earth alike. Yet, he also knew in his bones what a comfort it would be for the one brief moment before the worlds came crashing down.
Oh, to be home again. The want of it crawled up his spine. If he closed his eyes, maybe reached ever so slightly toward the rune, he could see King Ase on the battlefield, fighting at his side as young men. Fafnir's cold scales slithered against James’s leg in their familiar riding stance as it had during so many glorious battles. His leather helmet, thick with sweat and blood, clung to his cheek. The sweet smells of Rowanberries and lush trees—blue, not the putrid shade of green from this world - and all the things he missed about home came flooding back.
No! This realm was his home now. James opened his eyes and rubbed them, realizing how close his hand had inched to the intoxicating glow. He promised Margaret he'd never leave her, and now the lad. He couldn't let himself get sucked in by primal urges.
But... in his soul, James sensed it was more than base needs and yearning. Valonde would not be calling if it weren't dire. Important decisions loomed on his horizon. Which oath would he betray?
Chapter Three
"How could ye do this to us?" Margaret cried as she wrung out the laundry and hung it on wires strewn across the bathroom. "Ye promised."
"I hae made many a promise in my life, dear one." James placed a pleading hand on his wife's shoulder. Her bright green eyes shined with fury and unfallen tears.
Margaret shrank away from his touch. "Do not call me that. Not now. Do ye not remember why we left, James? There’s nothing for us in that blasted place." She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her one good dress, having come home straight away and begun her nervous tasks, never removing the faded garment.
"Aye, I remember well enough. I did it to keep ye safe, with the wee bairn in yer belly. But now.” James paced the tiny bathroom. “Ye ken I would never leave ye and my lad by choice. I hae a duty to uphold." James raised his hand to try again but the fierce look in Margaret’s eyes stopped him. His arm fell limp to his side, a mirror of the helplessness roiling in his chest.
Margaret dropped the threadbare towel back in the tub, where it soaked up the muddy water again. She removed her soiled dress and flung it into the muck as well. Turning to face him, her entire body flushed with rage, and her voice trembling, she whispered, "Spare me the dramatics, James. It would hae been duty six years ago, but now ye hae a family to consider. This is a choice. One ye've already made. I see it in yer eyes, Master Sweyn.” Margaret spit the formal title like poison. “But don't expect us to be here when ye get back."
James stood, mute, as Margaret stormed out of the bathroom.
As if on cue, the rune in his pocket changed vibration patterns, beating a new rhythm against his burning leg. A new message had arrived, this one more urgent than the last. He tried to ignore the deep chanting voice rising over the din of the rest. King Ase called to James as he had in the earlier vision. Valonde was at war and James did nothing.
Remorse ripped through the black ball of indecision in James’s chest. Guilt for leaving his home and his men at the hands of some unknown threat. And guilt at the thought of leaving his new home and his family. Neither decision held honor.
James picked up the soggy dress he'd bought Margaret just before their wedding and began wringing out the soiled water. The stench of the brown water ran down his arms and soaked his white button-down shirt. He shivered with disgust as it permeated his skin, marking him as unclean. He did not deserve to wipe it away.
Chapter Four
Days later, James found himself out in the fields with the rune hidden in his work jacket. His father's monogrammed handkerchief wrapped around the engraved golden amulet, yet it still radiated enough heat for sweat to accumulate on his brow. That and the jacket he couldn't risk removing, even in the unforgiving Midwestern heat. There had been too many close calls lately. The last thing he needed was for one of his men to be drawn to the run, or worse yet, touch it.
If James was honest with himself, he didn't remember placing the rune in his jacket lining that morning. Such was the way with runes of Valonde. Once in their grip, men were powerless against them. Still, he rationalized, it had been for the best, regardless. Leaving the cursed relic home to lure Jim away would be the worst possible outcome, for all their sakes. If he fell so easily under the rune's spell, his poor lad didn't stand a chance.
All of a sudden, one of the tractor operators screamed in pain and the ground shook beneath James’s feet. He instinctively clutched for the rune’s protection, then pulled away, thankful he’d at least had the presence of mind to wrap it in the handkerchief, whether he remembered doing so or not.
Yells rang out all around him and the farmhands rushed toward the cries for help. James followed the sounds, all the while stumbling and tripping over the heaving ground. The mounds of dirt breathed and swirled, reminding James of the times he’d called his trusty serpent mount, Fafnir, forth, but he hadn’t done so this time… had he?
When James reached the group of men gathered in a circle around something he couldn’t see, his training kicked in. “Move aside. What happened? Let me through.” He didn’t wait for the farmhands, clearly in shock, to obey. Instead he pushed past them, clearing a line of sight directly in to a bottomless pit.
“Wilfred’s down there,” one of the men managed before disappearing in the cloud of smoke and dust swirling around the field.
James looked into the churning soil and saw no sign of Wilfred, his oldest and most valuable employee. “What happened?” he asked, even as he tried to climb down into the hole.
At first, none of the men spoke. They all turned from side to side, waiting on someone else to start.
“Now!” James demanded. He couldn’t get a footing in the pit. The sides were smooth, no branches or roots, and the below still roiled like a boiling cauldron.
“Um, well…” one of the younger men finally spoke. “There was this sound, like… a… monster. And the ground opened up and swallered ‘im.”
James looked back toward the bottom of the pit. Only the tip of the tractor’s front loader poked out of the sand like a hand clawing for salvation. Wilfred was
nowhere to be seen. “Someone get me a rope. I’m going in!”
“In?” Harold, the cattle foreman, asked. “In where? There’s nothing we can do. Ye’ll die trying.”
“I hae to save him. I cannae tell Carolyn…” James broke off, not daring to think about having to break this kind of news to a pregnant widow. “Everyone stand back. I’m going under!”
The ground at the bottom of the pit roared, as if it heard James declare his intentions. A dark green fire raged just below the surface of the soil. The tractor twisted and melted before his eyes, and yet, James continued down.
James couldn’t tell how he was managing to climb down into the hole instead of being swallowed whole like Wilfred. He reckoned it had something to do with the rune, though he had no time to worry if anyone saw its glow. He prayed they were too busy watching green flames eat the new tractor.
As he lowered himself toward the fire, James whispered a quiet prayer to the Gods of Valonde, and asked for the strength of a thousand men. Then, when he’d about reached the last remnants of the molten metal, he kissed his fingers and placed them over his heart in memory of his precious Margaret. He felt a moment’s pang of regret. Their last interaction had been so contemptuous. She hadn’t bothered to see him off to work in the mornings to come.
James shook the thoughts of his own peril out of his mind. He needed to focus.
The heat intensified near the center of the pit, but the noise was what sent chills up his spine and tightened his grip on the clumps of dirt along the walls. James had only heard such a roar once in his life and he’d fled Valonde in hopes of never hearing it again.
In his jacket, the rune vibrated and screamed to be released. Its yellow glow shot through the thin fabric and chased the green fire back. Several tendrils of warm golden light swirled around Jim, blocking the worst of the heat, but only some of the roar.
The time had come.
James let the rune lower him into the fire. As he broke the surface of the scorched earth, he held his breath, though only from instinct. Moments later, when he could bear it no longer, he took a frantic gulp of what he expected to be fire and dirt, only to find clean crisp air in his golden light cocoon.
James searched with his hands, feeling around for anything resembling a human body. The warring lights from his rune and the dragon’s fire bounced around the pit, leaving pitch black in their absence. Seconds passed slowly, though James felt his heart pounding. He knew he was in the InBetween, suspended neither here nor there. It was the only reason—or so he told himself—he had been reckless enough to enter the cavernous hole.
The beast hadn’t been after Wilfred. It wanted him. So there was a good chance his friend still lived, frozen in the moments before death, in a place with no time. If only James could find him.
Then, something off to the side caught his attention. Through the flames and fumes of burnt paint and metal came a familiar scent. James had to stifle a laugh in this moment, faced with certain death and discovery, the thing that would save them both was Wilfred’s cheap cologne.
With newfound determination, James dug through the quicksand. Electrically charged like ozone, it crackled at his fingertips. Touching one charged mound of dirt to another could cause an implosion, something which occurred all too often in the InBetween. In his former life, James burned many empty pyres for men lost to portal disasters.
James let his Valondian instincts take over and felt his fingers carefully place the charged dirt in the correct piles after each scoop. Doing so made the rescue effort safer, though impossibly slow.
When James felt he could go on no longer, a faint moan rose from the depths. “Wilfred?” James called. “Is that you? I’m coming.”
A shallow cough answered, followed by nothing more.
James frantically scratched at the dirt, not caring for his own safety any longer. But soon it became apparent he would not reach his friend in time.
Chapter Five
A broken man, James slumped against the protective layer of light surrounding him. He had failed. For a moment he contemplated staying in the InBetween with his fallen man. But he could not bring himself to do such a thing to Margaret and the lad.
James willed himself to rise out of the pit with the help of the rune.
Nothing happened.
The rune warmed in his jacket, calling to him. Though he knew better than to give in, what more could he do? All was lost.
James slid the rune out of the handkerchief and held the blinding object in his bare hands. Its markings twisted and rearranged once more. The deep gold encasement gave way to black etchings of a language James no longer understood.
All at once, the cavernous hole engulfed in a golden light, revealing tunnels branching out in all directions. Ominous sounds and cries echoed through each chamber. James felt himself being drawn into all of them, spreading out into particles of light and dark.
“Sweyn, is that you?” came a deep voice from everywhere. “'Tis about time, Master Sweyn. We hae been trying to reach—” The voice broke off.
The rune buzzed and jumped in James’s hand. His grip loosened and the rune was seconds away from tumbling out of his hand to be lost forever. Yet he couldn’t be bothered to care. The tunnels needed him.
“Sweyn!” This time his king’s voice broke through the chatter.
James’s body snapped back whole. “Your highness.” James attempted a bow, even in the suffocating hole.
“What in Valonde is the matter with ye? Is this why ye havena answered?”
James could have lied and said ‘yes’, but King Ase would see right through him.
“I hae a family now. Had…” he added with a rush of remorse.
“Yes, I ken that verra much. And I wouldna be calling upon you if it weren’t dire. King Raynor took siege of the upper kingdoms and –”
James broke in, putting up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Your highness, I cannae help ye.” He turned the rune and used its light to illuminate his surroundings.
“No bother.” Ase’s voice sounded nonplussed. “I can pop ye over the threshold and everything will be perfect. Just say the word.”
Though King Ase ranked highest in all the land, Valondian honor dictated no man shall be pulled across realms against his will. Ase needed James’s permission, and James couldn’t give it.
“I’m verra sorry, Sire. I cannae. I promised Margaret.”
At the mention of his dear wife, the rune brightened, then dimmed to a point where James could no longer see the tunnels. “I ken verra well that ye have Margaret and the child, but ye also have a duty to yer men in Valonde. Yer home.”
James let the tear in his eye fall. It had waited long enough. “Please do not ask this of me.”
Long seconds passed in silence before King Ase’s voice boomed, louder and fuming. “Verra well. If this is our last word, please give Margaret my love.”
The light began to fade and James shook the rune. “Wait! I… I need… help.”
The light flickered but did not extinguish.
James continued. “I’ve a man in grave danger. Please save him. His wife is with child and…”
The rune warmed in James’s hand. King Ase’s voice returned, softer. “Ye would ask to save your man and not yerself.”
James pursed his lips. “I believe he came to harm because of me. Whatever beast -”
“Raynor’s dragon,” Ase interrupted.
“Aye, Sire. This wretched dragon crossed into my world and… my man is innocent in all this. If ye can only release him from this place…”
“Ye’ll come to fight beside yer men?” King Ase emphasized the last word.
James faltered. “If that is what it takes, but I implore ye to save his life out of decency and honor, not as -” James stopped himself before saying ‘blackmail.’
The rune went black. Everything went black.
Chapter Six
Something brushed against James’s arm. He opened his eyes to a sky fu
ll of stars. He blinked once, then again. As those stars faded, the faces of his men smiled down upon him. Then, James's eyes went wet. One of those smiles belonged to Wilfred. He was safe. How was he safe?
All James’s men spoke at once, slapping him on the back and asking how in the world did he get them both out alive. James had no answers, none they would accept or believe. And, by Gods, none he should admit to in this realm.
But in their eyes, he could see it; Wilfred’s especially. These men had been touched by magic.
It left an extra shine in its wake, a twinkle not unlike the stars above.
Stars?
“How…” James coughed up a thick hunk of mud. “Marg -” Another cough.
“Whoa, take it easy,” came a voice James thought he knew but couldn’t place, accompanied by a strong hand pushing him back down onto something flat and hard. He tried to turn his head but it wouldn’t move. “Be still, young man,” the voice said again.
“Will he be alright, Dr. Parnacky?” Harold asked the man in the white coat.
Parnacky? James yanked his arm from the man’s grip. He had to get home to Margaret before she found out what happened. And no horse doctor was going to stop him.
“Wait!” Dr. Parnacky and many of the gathered men said at once. James jumped up from the ground and ran.
“Mr. Craig, sir,” Wilfred called after him.
James stopped and stared at Wilfred. The man had not a hair out of place. A cry choked itself in his throat and he wrapped his friend in a bear hug.
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 60
