by Phil Stern
This was clearly some type of interstellar rip, possibly caused by a highly magical object inadvertently poking through from another dimension. Long-term erosion from even mildly magical waterways had been known to create weak spots between worlds, leading to this type of incursion.
Yet those type of things were usually temporary, the natural magical forces generally setting things right again. Yet for this valley to have become a central part of anyone’s religion, the rip would have to have occurred a long time ago. From a practical standpoint, it could now be considered permanent.
All in all it was an incredibly rare, uniquely powerful natural phenomena, the magical equivalent of a perpetual volcanic eruption. It could also possibly explain how an object from another world could wind up here.
With Pend padding about nearby, Caylee was now scouring the lower banks for more “artifacts.” Luckily, Ayla wanted to stay up by the pool and commune with Lord Balen for a bit, so she had a little space to work.
Sure enough, she soon picked up a bent piece of copper tubing, which might well have come from the same steam-engine type machine as her gauge. A muddy ladies shoe was next, followed by a chunk of sawed and treated wood. And farther down, half-hidden beneath a bush, were the bent frames of what had once been a fine pair of eyeglasses.
Jarob also helpfully brought more odds and ends over to her, but by now Caylee was sure of what she’d found. Without question, Balen’s Bastion was the home not of some supernatural deity, but an inter-dimensional fissure connecting Lysandy to an industrial-age society.
Bending down, the glasses thoughtfully held between thumb and forefinger, Caylee couldn’t help beaming with pleasure. She’d accomplished her mission! The mystery of the gauge was solved. This would all make for quite an interesting report to Eleanor, not to mention a great addition to the Haven Library.
Without warning, a seventy-five pound tiger cub leapt onto Caylee’s back, sending her sprawling face first into the sand and dirt. Triumphantly licking her ear for good measure, Pend then raced off downstream, paws flying about in obvious delight.
Sighing, the sorceress sat up, her clothes hopelessly covered in mud. With an indignant squawk, Jarob alighted on the bank beside her, glowering after the retreating cub. Assuring the battle hawk that Pend had just been playing, Caylee then sent him out to scout a more direct route up and out of Balen’s Bastion.
Indeed, all this intense magic was beginning to give her a headache. Even her earth stone was getting a little overloaded. With a little luck, maybe the battle hawk could find a way of shortening the walk up and out of here.
Absently picking twigs from her long, blonde hair, the enchantress now slowly stood up again. Maybe Pend could help? After all, the cub knew what the grass on the top of the valley smelled like. If she hugged her close, could the baby tiger teleport them both out of here in one easy jump? If successful, maybe the same technique could whisk them back to the village in no time.
Moodily watching the water flow by, Caylee irritably folded her arms. Frankly, speeding up the return trip would be nice. It had been a very interesting visit, but the fact was she was getting a little tired of traipsing around Lysandy by herself. Another night in the village, perhaps, and then on to Haven. Lewn was healing very rapidly, and at the very least should be able to comfortably ride back across the savannah.
The rongas were a problem, but the policy now would be to run at the first sign of trouble. Jarob could provide close cover, scouting directly ahead. There shouldn’t be any surprises. Really, if she kept moving and stayed alert, it should be all right. Heck, if they left early enough tomorrow, her little party might even be able to reach the Boundary in one day.
Thoughtfully toeing yet another metal object in the mud with her black boots, the young witch gently extended her magical sensitivity up river again. Her hostess remained by the upper pool, praying or something.
For some reason, she didn’t really trust Ayla. The priestess was obviously holding something back. Perhaps about this valley, or her own people? Maybe even her own abilities? There was definitely something…
Abruptly pulled from her own ruminations, Caylee’s attention was jerked back to the frothing river. Drifting right by, near the opposite bank, was a body! Face down, arms and legs lifelessly drifting out, the clothed male whizzed by Caylee almost before she noticed.
Without thinking, the sorceress ran several steps and then leaped high into the air. Carried up and over the churning water by her own magic, Caylee landed on a large, flat rock on the other bank much farther down the valley. For a few, brief seconds, she was again downstream from the fast moving body in the river.
In these types of situations, Haven operatives were trained to act calmly and quickly. Thus, even as Caylee steadied herself, the sorceress magically “reached” out and grabbed the unknown male. He was heavy, though, and the fast-moving current provided more resistance than she’d anticipated. Still, she soon lifted the stranger from the water, placing him on the rock beside her. Sprawling out in an inert heap, the clothed man appeared quite lifeless.
Turning him onto his side, Caylee made sure his mouth and nose were clear. Then she sent a mild magical charge into the stranger’s body, artificially stimulating his muscles and nervous system. Of course, this wouldn’t bring a dead man back to life, but if he was merely unconscious, or needed to clear his lungs…
Sure enough, the drowning victim began weakly coughing, water spewing out over Caylee’s foot. Standing back, she watched him gag and wheeze for some moments, eventually crawling up onto hands and knees. Finally throwing up, he fitfully collapsed back onto his side, gasping but alive.
In his mid-20's, the stranger was dressed in simple dark slacks, buttoned shirt, and buckled shoes. Obviously, these clothes came from a more advanced world than Lysandy. A machined, smooth metal ring was on one finger. An old-style, gold-plated folding watch on a fob had fallen out of his pocket, and now lay on the rock by Caylee’s feet. Without question, the man had just come though the inter-dimensional fissure.
And on his skin, clearly visible behind the left ear, was the same wavy line seen on all the villagers here in Lysandy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NORINE SAT IN her seldom-used office, moodily staring at the far wall. Outside the rustic building could be heard the normal evening sounds of an idyllic Haven country lane, with soft chatter and occasional laughter drifting about. Indeed, the Coven’s bucolic home world had seemingly returned to normal, the tension and conflict of the last few years firmly drifting into the past.
In her new position, though, the Coven Leader’s chief-of-staff had to sweat all the details of their organization’s vast operations. Top on her list right now was Caylee Nuxan’s mission into Lysandy.
Lush blonde hair falling about her shoulders, Norine irritably pushed a few sheets of paper about the desk top. By the stone, why had Eleanor sent such an inexperienced girl into a virtually unknown magical world? True, Caylee was a very promising young witch, but this was exactly the type of assignment that called for an experienced hand. Because if that damn industrial-age gauge led directly to another unexplored domain…or worse yet, some wildly random inter-dimensional portal…Norine knew exactly what would happen. Caylee would leap first and ask questions later, getting herself into who-knows how much trouble.
Which, in turn, was exactly how promising young witches became causalities. Or worse yet, just disappeared forever, a mystery to her saddened Coven-mates for years to come.
At this point Caylee wasn’t yet overdue, but nearly three days of fretting about things in Vail had been quite enough. Slipping across the Boundary to Haven a hundred menlars before, Norine had promptly summoned Sarina Toulon to her office.
At the stroke of seven o’clock, the 30-year-old sorceress entered the room, smoothly sitting in the seat opposite the chief-of-staff. Tall and slim, with mid-length auburn hair, Sarina was one of the most competent operatives at her disposal.
“You wanted to
speak to me?” Sarina spoke with the confident tone of a veteran sorceress in her prime. “About the strike force, I’m assuming?”
She was referring to the rotating team permanently stationed in Haven, ready for immediate deployment to any threatened dimension. Sarina was one of four witches who took turns as the force leader, having just completed her week-long shift sixty menlars before.
Which was another thing Norine appreciated about the Earth native. Unlike just about everyone else around here, Sarina got right to the point.
“No, I’m sure that’s all under control,” Norine said. “But there is a situation I need your help with.” Briefly, she described Caylee’s mission.
Frowning, the younger woman raised an eyebrow. “That’s sending an awfully inexperienced girl out onto a pretty shaky limb, isn’t it?”
“That’s my thought as well,” Norine carefully agreed.
“And all because Eleanor was curious about this gauge?”
“Well, the Coven Leader has undertaken a new training program…”
“Consisting of what? Babying them for six months in Vail, then throwing them off a cliff without an earth stone?”
Sighing, Norine leaned back. Bluntness also had it’s drawbacks, she decided. “Look, all I’m asking you to do is check up on her.”
“Out in the field? In Lysandy?”
“That’s right.”
“This is off the books, isn’t it?” A moment went by, Sarina evenly eyeing her superior. “Eleanor doesn’t know.”
Norine shrugged. “I’ll take the heat, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried about any heat.” Sarina stared off into the distance, contemplating the situation. “Who else will I have at my disposal?”
“Nobody. Just you.”
“Come on. I’d need a dozen witches just to begin a proper search.”
“Who’s talking about a formal search?” Norine smiled. “Look, if she’s not back by tonight, just go over there in the morning and take a look around.”
“You’re talking about an entire dimension.”
“What, you think she actually remembered to cover her tracks? Just bring some hawks and a few unicorns. They’ll be able to focus in on Caylee’s small menagerie in short order.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Sarina sighed. “This is the girl who can speak to animals, or some such nonsense?”
“It isn’t nonsense, though like most SA’s it will soon become more of a crutch than a help.” Pausing, Norine eyed her Coven-mate. “Well?”
“Fine, I’ll go.” Sarina briskly stood. “But I can’t promise I’ll find her.”
“Just keep your eyes and ears open,” Norine replied, now looking up at her. “And if Caylee has run into trouble, just get her back here with a minimum of fuss. All right?”
Respectfully inclining her head, Sarina then turned and strode from the office.
*****
After dinner that night, in a field near the village, Caylee sat next to Ayla at a grand celebration for the man pulled from the river. By now somewhat recovered from his near-death experience, the Lysandy native had shed the cheap, Victorian-era workman clothes in favor of simple village garments. Placed in a spot of honor before a huge, blazing bonfire, the man weakly raised his mug in response to the near-continuous congratulations of those around him.
Clearly, this rather simple villager man had been systematically abused in the other dimension. During the long, slow trip back from Balen’s Bastion that afternoon, Caylee had taken careful note of his various bruises, cuts, and generally degenerative state. Rub marks on the wrists indicated he’d been chained up for a time, while a generally swollen forearm might even be hiding a broken bone.
Indeed, this clear victim of inter-dimensional abuse miserably shivered throughout the evening, occasionally throwing up when too much food was introduced to his weak stomach. Concerned, the sorceress realized he might have picked up a degenerative disease or two, like dysentery or cholera, common to early industrial societies. Without access to modern medical care, his recovery would be slow and painful.
Yet all his friends and neighbors acted as if this had been a wonderful experience. Indeed, in full religious fervor, everyone felt he’d passed Lord Balen’s grand “test” in swell fashion, somehow defeating the “dark magic” of the “underworld.”
Trying not to openly show her disgust, Caylee merely ate and drank in sullen silence. But as the dancing, singing, and chanting went on, she could finally take no more. Rising from the flat rock upon which she’d been sitting, the young witch turned and stalked off into the cool night.
Common to all pre-technological dimensions, the night sky in Lysandy was bright and clear, the stars twinkling merrily up above. Letting the soft evening wind course through her long blonde hair, Caylee soon encountered Tornado placidly standing sentinel some distance off. Putting a weary arm over her unicorn’s neck, she unsuccessfully tried to let her frustration simply fade away.
Nearby, Pend’s royal guard was busily munching on fresh wild boar kill, while the tiger princess herself was curled up in a tight ball almost at Torando’s feet. Smiling, Caylee realized the young cub must be exhausted from the day’s activity. It was also sweet how she instinctively sought out Tornado to watch over her, even with her own pride on hand.
“Sorceress, a word, if I may?”
Stiffening, Caylee slowly turned about to see Ayla standing some ten feet behind her. Somehow, the village priestess had managed to veritably sneak up on her, even though the Haven operative had light magical feelers extended into the dark.
“Ayla.” Disquieted, Caylee realized her hostess had never used the title ‘sorceress’ before. “The celebration goes well, I see.”
“Yet you disapprove. That much is obvious.”
“I don’t see much to celebrate,” she acknowledged. “Your man there was obviously beaten and starved. I imagine he barely escaped the other world with his life.”
“And you would be correct.” Gliding forward, the older woman came to stand next to her. “Many of our kind are still trapped there, or have already perished.”
“Why? For what reason?”
“It is our way.”
“I see.” With difficulty, Caylee kept her voice even. “What’s over there, anyway?”
“Lord Balen’s underworld.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense!” Now the Haven sorceress felt her own eyes begin to take on a light sheen of earth fire. “It’s another dimension, that’s all. A cruel place, obviously, where you send your own people to suffer! But there’s nothing supernatural about it!”
At this, Pend stirred uneasily, unconsciously cupping an oversized paw over one ear. Ayla smiled down at her, then looked directly at Caylee.
“Come,” she urged. “Your fervor will wake the princess. Let us walk.”
Frowning at this mild chastisement, the young blonde nevertheless fell into step beside the priestess. Strolling out deeper into the countryside, Tornado remained behind with Pend, yet remained within easy supporting distance.
“In our religion,” Ayla began, “Lord Balen sends us into his underworld. The other dimension, as you say. The purpose is to test us, to let us grow as individuals and as a people.”
Caylee frowned in the dark. “Clearly, it’s a more advanced world than this one. Aren’t your people at an instant disadvantage?”
“Yes. Not to mention that the population there is arrogant and often cruel.”
“That’s horrible!”
“They regard our people as semi-vermin, to be treated with little regard or care.” Ayla spoke simply, as if this was a matter of little concern. “Whenever any strangers show up, they know to look for the wavy line we have, half-hidden behind the ear.”
“And then what? Your people are subject to some type of discrimination?”
“To put it mildly.” The priestess thoughtfully nodded. “Did you notice the ring our man was wearing? That’s to openly designate him as a lower-class citi
zen. But he’s lucky. Sometimes our people are actually enslaved.”
“What? And you tolerate this?” Rocking to a halt, the sorceress pointedly folded her arms. “My people travel far and wide just to protect populations like yours! We prevent abuse! We certainly don’t just ignore it. Or encourage it!”
“Oh, so you run around saving everybody?” Ayla softly countered. “How noble. Just like you were saved from that awful father of yours in Anslaw?”
In the terrible stillness that followed, Caylee could clearly hear individual bugs chirping in the night, a lone mole burrowing in the dirt nearby. “How could you possibly know about my childhood?” she softly asked. “Or Anslaw?”
“My dear.” Almost tenderly, Ayla put a hand on Caylee’s shoulder. “Your Coven, as you call it, is very active and quite powerful. Yet also quite arrogant, in it’s own way. There are many things about the universe you don’t yet understand.”
Taking a step backwards, Caylee felt a ball of fear begin forming in her stomach. “Who are you?” she demanded. “How do you know all this?”
“My people are ancient.” Pausing, Ayla shrugged. “We know many things.”
“But how? You’re obviously stuck here in Lysandy…”
“Are we?”
“Well, except for that awful portal into that, uh, other…”
“You mean Lord Balen’s underworld?”
“Stop it!” Fists clenched, Caylee had to resist the urge to openly gather her power. “You know that has nothing to do with it!”
“And you, my dear, are a child who knows very little about anything. So please don’t presume to lecture me about matters you couldn’t even begin to understand.”
