The Dotard

by Greg Curtis

  Perhaps that was as it had always been meant to be? This wondrous world of the ancient Faerie had never been intended to be a place in which people lived. Because the one thing that he now knew from the events of the last few weeks was that this realm of the Faerie wasn't what he'd thought. He wasn't even completely sure that it was a realm any more. It could be a nexus of some sort between realms. After all, if all the gates from Riverlandia connected to this realm – as he had always thought and still did – but only some of the gates here led back to Riverlandia while others led to other realms, then clearly this realm was some sort of bridge between other worlds. A stopover on the way to other places.

  Had the ancient Faerie even come from this world? Or was their true realm to be found through one of the other gates? He'd wondered about that a lot during the past week. Because one of the theories that had always been bandied about as to where they’d gone, was that they'd found another realm and simply left for greener pastures. But maybe that wasn't completely right either? Maybe they'd simply returned home? They'd come to Riverlandia, stayed for a while, looked around, and then they'd left.

  “I don't suppose you're going to tell me,” Edrick said to the unicorns who were busy grazing nearby. He had three of them today, all of them no doubt hoping that he would open the gate to his garden and let them in. Naturally they didn't answer him but continued grazing while keeping a close eye on the gate to the garden. They never answered him when he asked.

  “You know, I'd be happy to open that gate if you'd tell me how to fix the gate back to Riverlandia. A gate for a gate?” He tried again with the same result.

  The strange thing was that he had a strange feeling that they might know how to. After all, this was their realm, and all the animals here were far smarter than they should be. The griffins were playing with his cat, making a pet of her. He was sure that animals didn't do that. The unicorns seemed to understand deals, something else that animals didn't do. And they could communicate through mental imagery. Even the silver tailed foxes that bothered his chickens from time to time seemed to have some sort of intelligence. Enough that they would steal an egg or two, maybe carry off a chicken, but he'd never once seen them carry out the sorts of chicken slaughters that foxes back in Riverlandia did if they got in a hen house. They were restrained. As if they knew that killing all the chickens would leave them hungry in the long term. And then there was the dragon in the other realm who seemed to be able to open the gates. It could cast magic.

  This was a very strange place. He kept forgetting that.

  “Do you know how to fix the gate?” Edrick put down his book, suddenly curious. He hadn't seriously considered the idea before, but just then he had to. Because he suddenly remembered the unicorn attacking the dragon. The unicorn had struck the dragon. It had caused an explosion and after that the dragon had retreated back through the gate. The gate had then closed and had not reopened. Had the dragon done that? Or had the unicorn? After all, if a dragon could open a gate why couldn't a unicorn close one? And if they knew that – what else did they know?

  In theory it shouldn't be hard to get the gate working again. He only needed to get the spell on the distant stone circle's standing stones to travel back to his gate's standing stones. He just didn't know how to do that. He'd thought for a while that it was like a wire in the new technological wonder that everyone kept talking about. A simple strand of copper that carried lightning – or electricity as the technologists insisted on calling it. Personally, he didn't think the invention was any great wonder. They wanted to light and heat every home in the realm with it. But where would you get the electricity to do that? Or the wires? They couldn't even build roads to every village and town. Still, the idea was interesting. Break the wire and the electricity didn't flow. So there had to be some sort of broken magical conduit.

  But he was damned if he could find it. If the road was the wire as he assumed it must be, he couldn't find any connection between the stone circle and the road. Nothing through which the magic travelled. And likewise, there was nothing between the standing stones at his gate and the road. Not even now that he'd filled in the crater, levelled the ground and returned the stones to their correct positions. He'd had hope for a while as he'd worked that the soil itself would carry the magic, but it hadn't and his hope had died.

  Wondering if the unicorns could possibly know, and just about daring to hope that it might, Edrick got up and walked over to the nearest of them. And then he let his hand run down the long hair of its mane and started talking to it, hoping it would understand his plight. But if the unicorn understood, it gave no sign. Though it did continue to accept his touch while it grazed. Some things were important and some things weren't.

  Disappointed though he knew he shouldn't be, Edrick left the animal to continue feeding and headed for his house. The sun was high in the sky, and his stomach was speaking to him about hunger and lunch would be welcome. Of course, if he tried to eat outside he knew he'd have others trying to eat his lunch for him. The creatures of Faerie might be brighter than others he was familiar with, but they were the same when it came to food.

  Blackie proved that she had the same understanding, and he watched her streak through the doorway the moment he opened it. It wasn't that she was scared of the griffins who were still standing there where she'd been sitting, looking a little confused by her departure. It was just that she liked his stew better than mice. Probably because it involved less running and stalking to get it. Like all cats she was nothing if not lazy and mewling piteously at him was easier than hunting.

  “Fine.” Edrick gave into her demands as he usually did, and ladled a serving spoon full of the cold stew from the pot into a bowl for her. Then while she ate he put the pot on the stove to let it warm up again. It was only a simple rabbit stew, spiced with a little pepper and mixed with some carrots and peas from his garden, but it was quite good. It also wouldn't take long to heat through. The fire quickly burst back into life when he tossed a couple of logs on it.

  Soon he wouldn't be eating so well. He was fast running out of flour, which would soon mean no more dumplings or bread. He wouldn't even be able to thicken the gravy. He was also running out of salt and pepper. In time his stews would become bland. Without pickles his bread would be boring. And of course he was already out of cheese and there wasn't much left in his coffee bean jar. He really needed to go to the stores. He probably needed to mine some silver from the river as well he realised as he stared at the empty tin where he kept his nuggets. Carrie had emptied it out as she'd fed and sheltered the Argani. Not that he minded.

  Maybe this afternoon he'd go and dig out a few more nuggets from the river. Not that there was any point when the gate didn't work. Still, he actually quite enjoyed the mining. And he knew that when he finally managed to create a portal back to Riverlandia, he was going to need some coin. Unfortunately, it was unlikely that any portal he created would be large enough to let him drive his steam wagon through. He’d have to purchase a new one when he got back. Plus, he’d have to build a new home. That would require a lot of coin. Fortunately, silver in Faerie was in good supply. There was a large vein of silver running up and down the complete length of the chain of valleys. It had always amazed him that the river could be so full of silver. He'd never heard of another like it. But it was useful.

  Then it struck him. An idea that he knew was both impossible and true. He had been looking for the conduit to the gates. A wire of a sort that could carry magic. Naturally he'd assumed it was the road. Wires were made by people. Roads were made by people. It fitted. It had seemed so obvious. But the river also ran alongside the road. It had passed near to both the circle and his gate. And it was full of silver. Copper carried electricity. Why couldn't silver carry magic? Or more accurately, water loaded with silver salts?

  The instant he thought about it he realised something else. When the gate had been destroyed, it hadn't just been the standing stones that had been wrecked. The ground had also been
torn up. Cratered. Who was to say that it hadn't disturbed some underground trickle of water running to the river?

  “Bless you Sirtis!” Edrick gave thanks to the Goddess for her wisdom.

  The idea made sense. But more than that, it answered so many questions he hadn't expected. For a start he realised, he knew why the gates magic never faded. It wasn't because it was any different to the magic wizards knew. It was because the magic it called on was vast. Just as big creatures lived longer than small ones, and big fires burnt longer than small ones, so it was the same with big magic. It endured longer. He'd been looking for a single spell. Wanting to power a single gate. And he'd thought in those terms. Small terms. Even when he'd realised that the gate outside his home was connected to the circle many leagues away. He hadn't considered that the spell ran the entire length of the river. It probably ran through all of them. It was vastly larger than he had thought.

  But more than that, he'd been looking for a wire. A conduit. Instead he should have been looking for an entirely different kind of conduit. A vein.

  Everyone had always said that this realm of the ancient Faeries was a magical land. But no one had realised just how true those words were. The Faerie realm was literally alive with magic! It flowed through the rivers like blood through the veins of people. And the Faeries had found a way to tap into that magic and use it.

  He could do the same.

  Excited, Edrick pulled the pot off the stove top to stop it burning and hurried outside. And then he ran out to the gate to test his theory. Finally, he knew what he had to do. And it was the simplest thing. He didn't know where the underground trickle of water was, but he didn't need to. He knew where it arrived. At the gate.

  Once he was there it was a simple matter of digging. All he needed was a channel. Luckily he had a spell for that. A simple spell that he'd used many times before as he'd dug foundations for his home and the other buildings he’d constructed.

  Nervous, but almost certain he was right, Edrick cast the spell, slowly digging a trench around the top end of the gate just beyond the edge of the now filled in crater, and facing the river. Because he knew that somewhere in that crater there was a channel that had to have become blocked by the explosion. Then, once the trench was dug, he remained standing over it and waiting; looking for the first signs of water flowing into it and filling it up.

  For what seemed like ages he stood by the trench, waiting nervously, wondering if the water would flow again. And for what seemed like ages, it didn't. But then, just as he was beginning to think he'd dug in the wrong place, it happened. He could see the slightest glisten in the bottom of the trench that he knew to be water. It was just a trickle, but hopefully that was all it needed to be.

  Once it began filling, he started cutting a new trench running from it through the middle of the gate, and along down to the river. After that he only had to cut one more small trench to connect the two standing stones to the trickle.

  After that it was just a matter of waiting. He was always waiting!

  It took quite a while. Far too long for his liking as he shuffled nervously back and forth. But with only a trickle of water flowing it was always going to take time. Still he suspected that that was probably all it had been before. Presumably that meant he didn't need a lot. Just enough to connect the water to the base of the standing stones and the river.

  He also didn't know what he should expect to see if it worked. Something spectacular? Or maybe just a gentle hum of magical energy? Perhaps even less than that. Maybe it would take time for the original gate spell to recharge? There was just no way of knowing.

  And yet, even though it was taking too long for his patience to accept, he still thought he was right. This land was alive with magic! The magic flowed like blood through the silver laced waterways. Everything else that was strange and magical about this realm stemmed from that. The magical creatures that called it home, drank from the magical waters. The vitality of the land and the grass and the trees, also came from the magic laced waters. Perhaps that was why he felt so at home here? He too had magic and like called to like. But then again, other wizards had been to this realm and drunk the water over the years. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had ever stayed.

  Then, after he didn't know how long, it happened. But it was small. So small that at first he didn't realise that anything had happened at all. Everything seemed much as it had for the past hour or more. But then finally when he went to check on the stones for surely the thousandth time, he felt something new. Something wondrous. He could feel a soft, gentle warmth. Once again the magic flowing back through them.

  It was only a trickle, far too little to activate the spell. But it was there now and it hadn't been there before.

  Edrick cheered quietly. He was happy and relieved rather than wildly overcome with emotion. And for some reason, exhausted, which was why he collapsed onto the grass.

  His reaction seemed strange to him. He should be singing and dancing with joy he thought. Celebrating with wild abandon. Anyone else would be, no matter how tired they were. But for some reason he just didn't feel like doing that.

  And then it occurred to him, he hadn't been that scared. Not as anyone else would be. Because while he'd been trapped here, this was his home. He hadn't understood that until just then. But there was a difference between being trapped in your home and trapped somewhere else. Your home could never truly be a prison. Not in the same way other places could be.

  In the morning he thought, if the gate was fully charged, he'd open it and see what had happened in Riverlandia while he'd been gone. He could find out how the Argani were doing. He could go to some stores and stock up on all the things he was running low on. He might even find out how Wilberton and Carrie were doing. But there was no hurry he realised. He was alright for the moment. He had his life back.

  And then once he was done, he would return. He would be able to return home.

  Snorting sounds intruded on his plans and he looked up to see one of the unicorns staring at him. Maybe it was wondering if there was something wrong with him? After all, he didn't normally sit on the grass. Or maybe it was just hoping he would open the gate to the garden. That made him laugh.

  “Alright you,” he told the curious beast, “I won't try to hug you again. How do you feel about kissing?!”

  It wasn't in favour of the idea, was his thought as he watched the beast take a sudden step back! And that truly made him laugh.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Carrie’s world had become one of darkness and confusion. And above all one of fear. Fear of what was going to happen to her. She also feared what was happening outside the four walls of her cell. She was terrified of what further magics her grandfather might be raining down on the people of Coldwater, but at the same time scared that his days on this world were numbered. He had become a monster but regardless she still loved him.

  But the people of Coldwater! Her friends. People she had known all her life. How were they coping? Carrie knew she should be with them, helping as best she could. Tending to the injured. Helping the others who had had their lives ripped apart by her grandfather, however she could. She should also be looking to find a way to stop her grandfather, even if it seemed an impossible task. But she could do neither of those things. Not while she was locked up in here – wherever “here” was.

  All she knew was that she was locked in this cell. She didn’t know where she was, but she didn't want to be here. The stone walls of her prison were freezing and there was cold, dank water constantly trickling down them. The air smelled of rot and the ground was cold and damp. And it was dark! With only trickle of light coming in from a tiny slot at the top of one of the walls, it was hard to see anything. Then again, given the constant scurrying and squeaking noises she heard, perhaps that was a good thing. The only comfort she had in this place was a pile of mouldy straw to sleep on – and that was no true comfort.

  But all of that was bearable. She had endured at least six
hours tied to a horse's saddle, and bound as she still was, had been unable to cushion the bumps. She had survived the pain of that ride and the days that had followed. She had endured the pain of the beatings. She had lived with the fact that she was still bound and gagged. Presumably they had left her that way to make sure that she couldn't cast a spell. and when it seemed too much, she told herself that she deserved such rough treatment.

  What she couldn't stand though were the effects of the drugs that had been forced down her throat. Drugs that robbed her of her ability to think. No one deserved that she thought.

  Carrie guessed they were a mixture of potions designed to make her tell the truth – as if she hadn’t already – and to prevent her from being able to cast. They certainly made it impossible for her to think clearly enough to lie. But she also couldn't think clearly enough to answer most of the interrogators’ questions. She didn't understand a lot of them. It made them angry which she guessed was why they hit her. And kept on hitting her. Very hard and very often.