by Dana Fredsti
“Wait!”
“It’s too late for it now,” he said softly. “I’m done for.”
She tried to get the boat to stop, but it continued merrily, merrily along as the library morphed into a hallway, still lined with books. Without paddle or pole, the punt glided past all the shelves, through a marble hall of busts and grandfather clocks, and right out into the garden.
The grounds had been landscaped with exquisite care into the shape of a giant jigsaw puzzle. The first pieces were normal-sized, each less than an inch wide, but the more she passed, the bigger they became. Soon, each individual piece was the size of a plate, and then the size of a pizza pan, big enough on which to hold a picnic. No matter how large they were, however, all the pieces together fit like a charm. Strangely enough, all of them seemed to come from completely different puzzles.
As the half-boat floated onward, the pieces grew larger and larger still—blanket-sized to swimming pool-sized to parking lot-sized. Her punt cruised along into a new puzzle piece—one she didn’t much like—a dismal gray landscape crisscrossed with scorch marks and flecked with tiny fragments of black and white. Just a few yards in, her vessel abruptly ran aground on the delicate ashen crust. The sudden stop jolted her right out her seat and onto her feet. She found herself back in her Codex costume, Gavin’s Han Solo jacket draped over her shoulders.
At her feet was a square stone hatch, fixed in the ground. It seemed familiar, and she passed one hand over it. A trio of bright colorful little symbols appeared, floating above its surface. The hatch slid open, revealing a ramp dimly lit by tiny blue firefly lights.
Déjà vu, Amber thought, descending the corridor into a dark inner chamber. There a spindle-shaped pillar awaited, hovering above the ground. It looked like an opaque obsidian carving. She could hear it hum, though it made no sound. As she approached, it almost seemed glad to see her, starting to slowly spin as an eerie, almost marine luminescence began to flicker to life in its depths.
So beautiful, Amber thought.
She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch it.
So she did.
Her palms tingled as she brought her hands close to the slowly moving crystalline spindle. As they came to within an inch of its surface, the brightness streaming from the core of the object roared to life. What had been opaque became pure crystal, shining brighter than a lighthouse lantern.
Without warning the light engulfed her, trapping her in place. Her hair stood on end and arcs of violet-blue chain lightning crackled between the object and her fingertips. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her spine arched as the energy overload set off spasms throughout her body. She rose up on her toes, leg muscles straining from the surge, and then gravity abandoned her altogether.
The unrestrained energy pulses lifted her completely off the ground, suspending her helplessly in midair with arms outstretched like a crucified angel, while lightning played over her and crackled in chaotic waves.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.
The outpouring of power drew back into the crystal spindle, and slowly her toes touched down on solid ground again. At that moment her whole body collapsed beneath her, and she slumped to the cold stone floor in a heap.
* * *
Wait, Amber thought, back in her fancy dress in the Victorian library. That part wasn’t a dream…
She licked her thumb and flipped the parchment page of the oversized leather-bound folio. The next page was an old-fashioned woodcut, roughly carved and stylized like something out of a medieval manuscript. The woodcut was of her, collapsed on the subterranean chamber floor. Abruptly it came to full-color life, and her eyes lit up as she watched herself rise from the floor and shake her head, collecting her staff again before returning up the ramp to the surface.
The Amber in the picture emerged from the hidden passage and strode off toward the horizon, leaving a trail of footprints in the ashen crust.
As Codex Amber departed, Victorian Amber turned the page.
CHAPTER XIII: ÆGYPT
This new page also had a woodcut illustration. It featured the Great Sphinx and a trio of pyramids beneath the moon and all the constellations of the Egyptian night sky. At the base of the colossal leonine statue, just front and center of its great limestone paws, stood a man wearing an inky black hooded robe. Given a big sickle and a skeletal head, he would make a perfect specter of Death.
As it was, she could just make out the hint of the man’s face on the tiny figure. She proceeded to read the page’s text.
Amber.
AmberAmberAmber.AmberAmberAmberAmber
AmberAmberAmberAmberAmberAmber
AmberAmberAmber.Amber Amber.
Amber. Amber. Amber. Amber. Amber. Amber.
Amber. Amber. Amber. Amber. Amber. Amber.
Amber. Amber. Amber.
Amber.
She frowned, then suppressed a laugh.
What is this?
The woodcut caught her attention again as it came to life, just like the other one. Clouds drifted past the moon. The man’s black robe wafted gently. She read further. The words felt squirrely and ticklish on her eyeballs.
Eve ry th in gi s e ve ryt hi ng isev er yth in g ise ve ryt hin gisev ery thi ng is
The line of gibberish began to wiggle and dance.
Ever Yth in gise Very Thin gi Sever y Thing iSeve Rything iSeveryth Ingis
The words continued to mutate, slowly becoming more familiar, though still frustratingly cryptic.
Every thingise verythingiseverything iseverythingiseverythingiseverythingis
B ro kenb roke nbro ken brokenbrok enbro kenbro kenbr ok en bro kenbr oken
Bro Kenbro Kenb Rokenbr Oken Brokenbro Kenbroken Brokenbroke Nbrok
Everythingisbrokeneverythingisbrokeneverythingisbrokeneverythingisbrokenever
And then with one final twist, the jumble of mish-mashed letters untangled.
Everything is broken.
She looked again at the picture. The scene had zoomed in on the hooded figure beneath the Sphinx. She resumed reading, and the text continued its stumbling dance from gibberish toward clarity.
It’ Shard It Shard It’shardi t’sh ard It’shar d it’ shard it’s har dit’shar dit’sh ardit’s ha rdit’shard itshardit’sh ardit’shardit’shardit’shardit’shardit’s
it’s hard it’s hard it’s hard it’s hard it’s hard it’s hard
To tal kthi swa ytota lkt his wayto tal kth iswa yto
She held her breath.
Total kthi Sway to ta lkth Is wa ytot Alk thi Swa ytotalkthiswaytotalkthiswaytotalkthiswaytotalkthiswayto
It’s hard to talk this way.
Amber exhaled, and concentrated on making sense of the text.
Idon thave mu chti meido n’tha vemu chti me
Ido N’tha Vemu Chti Me Id On’th Avem Ucht Ime
I Do N’thav Emu Ch Tim Eido N’th Avemuc Hti Me
Idon’thavemuchtimeidon’thavemuchtimeidon’thavemuchtimei
An dso mu cht os ay an dso muc htos ay
An Dsomu Chtos Ayan Dso Mu Chtos Ay
Andsomu Chtosay An Dsom Ucht Osay
Andsomuc htosayan dsomuchto sayand
Idon’thavemuchtimeandsomuchtosay
I don’t have much time and so much to say
Amber nodded to herself. Okay, I think I’m getting the hang of this, she thought, turning the page. Another archaic woodcut stared out at her—a close-up of the hooded face of the man below the Sphinx, his features still hidden in shadow.
Again there was dancing text.
i’lld ow ha ti canto hel py ou I’lld Owha Tican Tohel Pyou
I’lldowhati Cantoh Elpyou
I’lldowhaticantohelpyou
I’ll do what I can to help you
bu tfir sty ouh ave tof ind meBu Tfi Rsty Ouh Avet of in Dme Bu Tfir styouh Avetof Indme
Butfirstyouhavetofindme
but first you have to find me
hel pmeam ber
Hel Pme Am Ber
Helpmeamber
Help me Amber
She gasped. The woodcut came to life right on cue, and the hooded man’s eyes locked on hers. The rest of his face was still cloaked in shadow, but his eyes—
My god, his eyes!
The irises were a blue-violet so dark that the black holes of his pupils were lost in them. The most remarkable thing, however, wasn’t their near-perfect blackness, but the hypnotic display playing out on their surface.
Infinitesimal pinpoints of white light streaked from the whites toward the center, and vanished there. Looking into his eyes was like watching a slow, steady cascade of stars falling down a well…
Help me Amber.
20
Amber woke up with a start, flashing on the image of a dark violet eye with a cascade of falling stars, so clear in her mind even as she shook the remaining cobwebs of sleep from her brain. She still lay on top of Cam’s cloak, both blankets carefully tucked around her.
The space next to her was empty.
“Cam?”
Sitting up, she was careful not to smack her head on the rock. She stood and stepped away from the protective overhang, peering out into the misty morning. There was no sign of her new companion.
He wouldn’t have left me, she told herself even as her heart rate sped up. I mean, he left his cloak. He needs his cloak, right? He wouldn’t just leave it behind. Her breathing quickened and her heart pounded in her ears as panic started to settle in at the thought of being alone again. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down.
He wouldn’t leave me behind.
The panic attack backed off as quickly as it had begun. Amber took a few more deep breaths and then sat back down, digging into her backpack for a bottle of water. She found her hairbrush first, and decided this was as good a time as any to pull it out.
Brushing her hair felt deliciously indulgent. The bristles snagged painfully on numerous tangles, but she tackled each one slowly and methodically, pulling out twigs and leaves that had gotten caught in there, as well. The ritual soothed her. Finally her hair spread out over her shoulders in a smooth blanket. Quickly she braided it, then secured it with a scrunchie dug out of her backpack, heaving a small sigh of satisfaction.
The sound of a cough made her jump. She looked up to see Cam standing a few feet away, a dead rabbit slung over one shoulder, his arms filled with a bundle of firewood. He looked embarrassed, as if he’d seen her naked or something, and immediately turned away. Setting the wood and the rabbit down, he busied himself with building a fire.
What’s got him so…?
Had she fallen out of her top?
Oh jeez.
She looked down at the dirty Han Solo jacket and her poor filthy Codex dress and corset underneath. Nope, everything was in place, tucked away where it should be—although the top did show a fair amount of mud-spattered cleavage.
Maybe that’s it.
* * *
Cam woke with the dawn. He was hungry, wanted to go forage for breakfast, and knew that they would both need a solid meal to face whatever this new day might bring. He looked down at the young woman still deep in slumber next to him, face half buried under the blankets.
Should he wake her up?
No, he thought. She needs her rest.
Hesitating at the thought of leaving her alone, he decided that finding something for them to eat was worth the risk, as long as he didn’t go too far. The outcropping did a good job of concealing their sleeping place. He knelt low and scanned the horizon for any potential trouble. There was no sign of any dragon like the one he had seen back in the strange forest, or of the herd of tri-horns that nearly stomped him to death. There was nothing visible larger than a red fox hunting field mice.
Taking care to stay within earshot, it took him no time at all to catch and dispatch a rabbit, and then forage some tender young hawthorn leaves and wild mushrooms. Last, he gathered the driest wood he could find to make a small fire to roast the rabbit, and then hurried back to the little hollow where they had passed the night. He moved with deliberate stealth, trying not to wake Amber if she was still sleeping.
When he reached the overhang she was awake, sitting cross-legged with the blanket spread out over her lap, slowly attending to her hair. She worked the brush from the scalp to the ends, her hair covering her shoulders in a mane of spun gold fire. He was transfixed. There was something so intimate about the moment that Cam felt as if he’d interrupted a private ritual. Waiting until she’d finished, he gave a deliberate cough to let her know he was there.
She jumped at the sound. Cam felt even more awkward for startling her, and immediately set about building the fire and skinning the rabbit. He felt a hand tap on his shoulder and turned to see her smiling at him.
“Can I help?” Amber gestured to the wood, then the rabbit, then to herself. Cam smiled back and shook his head, concentrating on drilling a sharpened branch into a chunk of deadwood. The overhang helped block the worst of the wind, but the gusts still made a challenge out of starting a fire.
The woman watched for a moment, then dug into her bag and pulled out a small box. She tapped on Cam’s shoulder again, then scratched a small sliver of wood against the box. His eyes went wide as her magic produced a tiny flame.
A gust of wind blew it out immediately, so she pulled out a second sliver. This time Cam held up his hands around hers to protect the flame from the wind, trusting her to prevent him from being burned. Together, they brought the miraculous little flame down to the tinder, holding it steady until it caught.
He blew on the newborn fire, careful not to put it out, nurturing it into a small but respectable blaze. Then he looked at the little box and grinned at Amber, nodding his approval.
* * *
Oh my god, Amber thought, I’m so glad he’s not one of those guys with something to prove. Her brother would have insisted on starting the fire from scratch, just to prove that nature wasn’t the boss of him.
Cam finished skinning and dressing the rabbit, putting the sharpened stick through it and propping it up to cook above the fire. He offered her a handful of mushrooms wrapped in little green leaves, then mimed her eating them, and she gingerly took a bite. They weren’t bad.
She rummaged through her backpack to see what else she could contribute to their meal. She pulled out her last bottled water, a can of orange soda, a small bag of chips, and a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar. Opening the chips, she ate one before offering him the bag, just to show they were edible. He nibbled cautiously at first, a look of surprise spreading across his features, then devoured as many of them as she offered. She popped the soda can tab, and Cam jumped.
Amber covered up a laugh by taking a sip.
“Oooh, boy. This is gonna give us both a sugar rush.” She held the can out to Cam.
He took it somewhat warily, looking both impressed and suspicious. He sniffed the opening, then took a cautious sip. He wrinkled his nose, and seemed to think about it for a long moment. Then he took another obviously polite sip before handing it back to her.
Okay, maybe that was a bit too much for him. Amber set it down, figuring she’d save the water for after the meal. As she did he retrieved the rabbit from the fire, and she steeled herself.
Any squeamishness she had over eating a cute little bunny quickly faded once they started digging in. The meat was fresh and melted in her mouth. She had never felt like such an enthusiastic carnivore before. Afterward she pulled out the chocolate bar, and she doled out each square with great ceremony. Cautious at first, he was sold after the first bite, apparently liking it even more than he did the addictive potato chips.
When their grand feast was finally over, they wiped their hands clean on the dewy grass. Cam lay back, hands clasped behind his head while Amber, on a whim, pulled out her cell phone.
Her iPhone had a burgundy protective case on it, which meant it was relatively indestructible, even if dunked in water. So far it had survived a lot more than that. She hit the power
button.
No bars and only thirty percent battery life left. She had a charger cord, but when would she ever find a place to plug it in again? She pulled up her photos anyway, knowing she should save what little juice remained, but unable to resist the comfort of seeing her family and friends, even if just through pictures.
Cam shifted position, moving closer to her to cast an inquiring look. Then he reached out and touched her cheek with one gentle finger, wiping a tear that had seeped out without Amber realizing she’d even been crying.
“Crap.” She gave a shaky laugh and brushed a few more errant tears away before they could fall. Then Cam said something she couldn’t understand, pointing to her phone. He stared with wide eyes at the pictures on the screen.
“My parents,” she said. She tried to think of the word for “parents” in Latin. All my Latin comes from Harry Potter, she thought sheepishly, but then a few words came to her.
“My alma mater and pater. Is that right?”
He nodded, and pointed to them.
“Matrem tuum et patrem.”
She nodded back and scrolled through the photos. “And my brother and sister. My um… fraternity and sorority. My best friend Amy.” Lots of pictures of her and Amy in various costumes at Comic-Con. Cam was spellbound by every image.
“My cats. And—”
She stopped.
The last pictures she’d taken were from ImagiAnimeCon. The very last picture on the roll was a selfie of her and Gavin, the river and the punt behind them. They were smiling. Happy.
“Oh,” Amber said in a very small voice. She swallowed hard, choking back a wave of grief she couldn’t afford to indulge in right now. Not just for Gavin, but for life as she’d known it. Even if she could charge her phone somewhere, somehow, the world she had known was gone.
The Internet? Gone.
Electricity? Gone.
