They traveled for a week across that blazing no-man’s-land, but never did the landscape change. There were signs of sand worms; wide holes in the ground that went on into darkness, but the companions hadn’t yet seen one, a fact that Gibrig was grateful for.
On the eighth day, as they were trudging through the desert on the backs of their camels, Brannon with his colorful umbrella, and Gibrig with his shirt over his head, a violent wind picked up, and a storm grew in the west.
“It looks like a bad one!” said Sir Eldrick over the tumult. “Hurry and set up the tent. Stake those camel reins down as best you can.”
Everyone hurried to get the tent up. They had sat through more than one sand storm, but the one brewing in the west had everyone, even Willow, rushing about.
They got under the shelter of the tent that Kazimir had provided, which was not a lavish abode as his had been, but just big enough so that they could all fit inside, though Willow said that her backside was always sticking out under the flap.
As the sun went down, the windstorm hit with the fury of a forgotten god. Everyone grabbed ahold of the rope staking the tent to the soft sand, but the storm soon proved too much, and all but Willow lost hold of the tent as the wind ripped their shelter from them.
“Help!” she screamed, as the wind took her away, pushing on the flapping tent like a sail.
“Let go!” Sir Eldrick told her, gathering everyone together to huddle against the whipping sand.
Willow growled against the pull of the wind, planting her feet and pulling with all her might, but the wind took it from her strong hands all the same, and she ran to join the others.
“What do we do?” said Gibrig as he was painfully pummeled by the gale.
No one could see two feet in front of them, and their eyes were caked with sand as it was.
“I think I know a spell,” said Murland, giving them all hope. “Huddle close, come on. I don’t know how big I can make it.”
Everyone squeezed in, and Murland pulled his wand from beneath his robes. He had memorized a new shield spell during their long journey across the desert, and now they needed it more than ever.
“Elementa protege me!” he bellowed against the storm, and from his left hand, the wand exploded with light. A translucent globe suddenly appeared and encapsulated them all.
The violence of the storm was suddenly muffled, and the companions shook off the sand and gaped at each other.
Murland held his wand in his left hand, stunned.
“Well I’ll be damned, Murland to the rescue!” said Sir Eldrick.
“That is some nice magix,” said Willow, shaking out her braids.
“Oh, thank the gods, I think I swallowed a pint o’ sand,” said Gibrig.
“You couldn’t have done that sooner?” Brannon asked.
“What’s wrong with you?” said Sir Eldrick. “You got sand in your panties?”
“I’m not sure how long it will last,” said Murland.
The globe hummed, and Murland put his wand away slowly, watching the shield. Outside, the storm raged. Sand covered the dome in a matter of minutes, and soon they found themselves fully submerged.
“How much sand you think is going to cover us?” Willow asked, trying to get comfortable among the squashed companions.
“Who’s to say,” said Sir Eldrick. He glanced at Murland in the dim light of the shimmering shield. “You got this under control?”
“I think so. I mean, no. Not really. But I think the spell will hold until I dismiss it.”
“Then do no such thing. Let’s ride this nasty storm out and get some rest while we can.”
Sir Eldrick was always warning them to get rest when they could, and for good reason. Often, it seemed, sleep became the only luxury on their long quest, and one they could ill afford.
Everyone, including Murland, settled in and tried to get what rest they could, for with morning would come the sun, and no one knew what might happen to the camels.
When Murland awoke, it was not due to the sun, but to the suffocating heat. He scrambled frantically against the others’ crowded bodies, scratching against the shield spell desperately.
“Hey, watch it!” Willow cried.
“Awe!” Brannon protested.
“I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t breathe!” He fumbled for his wand in the dark and tried to clear his mind and remember the words to deactivate the spell. They came to him slowly as he tried to focus against the panic of claustrophobia.
He finally remembered the words and, gasping, uttered them as best he could. When nothing happened, he desperately commanded the shield to disappear once more. To his relief, the globe of energy surrounding them winked out. His joy was short lived, though, as all the sand that had gathered on top of the shield came spilling into the bowl they sat in.
Sand covered Murland completely. He thrashed and desperately kicked to extract himself, but it was nearly impossible to move against the weight of it. Willow suddenly shot to her feet with a roar, flinging off the others and sending them sprawling on the sand, spitting and sputtering and cursing all the while.
Murland spit out a mouthful of sand and turned onto his back with a groan. His backpack struggled beneath him. “Sorry, Packy,” he said and sat up. He blocked out the blazing sun so that he might get a look around. There was no sign of the camels, the tent, or their supplies.
“What the hells do we do now?” Brannon asked, shaking the sand out of his hair.
“We continue west,” said Sir Eldrick.
“Well, no shit. What are we going to do about not having mounts, or shelter, or food?”
“We’ll do what we always do, our best,” said Sir Eldrick, getting up and wiping off his dusty armor.
“Come on, Gib,” said Murland, helping up the dwarf.
Willow was already on her feet and staring up at the sun, long beads of sweat streaking down her face. “Who the hells are they?” said the ogre, sounding both confused and afraid at the same time.
Murland glanced over toward Willow and froze. He wiped his eyes, unbelieving of what he saw; standing ten feet away was himself and the rest of his friends. It was like looking at a mirror, and Murland found himself wondering if he were dreaming, or perhaps hallucinating from heat stroke.
“Eldrick?” Brannon said slowly. “Tell me that they are a mirage.”
The other Brannon said nothing. He, like all the other reflections of themselves, just stood there, staring at their counterparts.
“What devilry is this!” Sir Eldrick demanded.
“What devilry is this!” said his doppelganger.
Sir Eldrick strode forth bravely, hand resting on his sword hilt. His doppelganger marched to meet him, copying his gait exactly. The two Sir Eldricks eyed each other and slowly turned a circle around each other until they were back where they had started. “What are you?” Sir Eldrick asked, and his double asked the same question, the same way.
“Why do they look just like us?” said Gibrig’s double, and the real Gibrig reeled.
“Hey! I was goin’ to say that,” said Gibrig.
“We are the Champions of the Dragon,” said Sir Eldrick’s double, “and we are marching west to Bad Mountain. Who, might I ask, are you?”
“We be the Champions of the Dragon,” said Gibrig. Though he glanced at Murland, looking unsure. “Ain’t we?”
“Of course we are,” said Murland, taking a few steps forward and studying his counterpart. His double wore the same clothes as he, and even had an identical backpack, white wings and all. Indeed, all the doubles looked, sounded, and acted exactly like their counterparts.
Sir Eldrick turned from his double and brought the companions in to speak privately. Glancing over at the others, Murland found that they did the same thing.
“These must be some sort of mimics, or doppelgangers,” said Sir Eldrick, keeping his voice low and glancing over his shoulder.
“You sure they ain’t spirits or something?” asked Willow.
“There are said to be leshiye in the deep forests of Halala,” said Brannon. “They are little tricksters who can shapeshift to look like people and animals.”
“Are they violent?” Sir Eldrick asked.
“Not so much as they are a nuisance.”
“Until we know what we’re dealing with, we need to be on guard.”
“How do they know what we’re thinking?” Murland asked. “I mean, they knew who we were, and asked a question just like Gibrig would.”
“They must be mind-readers as well,” said the dwarf with a shiver despite the heat.
Everyone glanced over at the huddled group of doubles, who glanced at them at the same time.
“Ignore them. Perhaps they will get bored with us and leave us alone,” said Sir Eldrick. “Come on, let’s get going.”
The group set out once again westward, and to no one’s surprise, the doubles began in the same direction. The strangest part about it all, as far as Murland was concerned, was that the doubles glanced over at them nervously, quizzically, as though they were the real version and Murland and his friends were the doubles. It was all quite surreal. He didn’t feel in danger around them, but rather, a sense of otherworldly wonder.
“Murland, why don’t you take Packy up into the air and see if you can’t spot the mounts or the tent,” said Sir Eldrick’s double.
Murland’s double leapt into the air, and his backpack spread its white wings and carried him into the air.
“I was about to suggest that,” said Sir Eldrick, sounding annoyed as he glanced at the strangers.
“I should probably do the same,” said Murland.
Sir Eldrick nodded. “Be careful.”
Murland leapt into the air, and Packy opened its wings without coaxing. He veered away from the other Murland, flying south instead and scouring the land for the missing camels and the tent. Unfortunately, he found nothing but golden sand for as far as the eye could see. The sun was high in the sky, and the temperature was sweltering. The breeze was nice, but Murland hardly noticed it on his damp skin, so concerned was he with the strange doppelgangers.
He wondered if his double could also perform magic. But that would make no sense if they were just some sort of mimics. A wizard was a wizard after all, and he doubted that there were shapeshifters in the world whose abilities also allowed them to mimic magic.
If the doubles were just an illusion, it was a hell of a good one. They had seemed so real. Indeed, any of the doubles could have infiltrated the group without being found out…
That train of thought gave Murland the creeps. What if they already had?
***
“I don’t like this, not one bit,” said Gibrig as he, Brannon, and Willow followed Sir Eldrick.
The knight glanced back. “Neither do I, Gib.” He regarded the strangers again, and just as before, his doppelganger stared back, his face full of curiosity and distrust.
Just like what I must look like to him, thought Sir Eldrick.
They had been traveling west across the sand dunes for the better part of an hour, and the doubles had paced them. Looking up into the sky, Sir Eldrick saw the two Murlands gliding along ahead, a few hundred yards away from each other. Upon seeing them, a terrible realization occurred to him; he would have no way of knowing if the real Murland was the one who would be returning to them.
“Damn,” he said aloud.
“What is it?” Brannon asked, trudging through the sand to walk beside him.
“It just occurred to me,” he said, pointing at the two Murlands. “We’ve no way of knowing who is who once they land.”
“Well, Murland can perform magic. Surely the double, or whatever the hells it really is, cannot.”
“Perhaps. But we must be careful. Any of them could pose as us, it seems.”
“Perhaps we can mark ourselves, so that we can tell who is who, if it comes to that.”
“Good thinking. What do you have in mind?”
“Here,” said Brannon, taking a piece of colored chalk from his bag. “Mark the back of your hand with this.”
Sir Eldrick did, drawing a big X on his hand, and Brannon instructed Willow and Gibrig to mark themselves as well.
“What’s this for, eh?” Gibrig asked.
“It’s a precaution,” said Sir Eldrick, as not to be heard by the doubles. “To let us know who is who.”
“Ah, gotcha,” said Gibrig. “Good thinking.”
“Yeah, good thinking,” said Willow as she wiped the sweat off her hand so that she could be marked.
“I’m not too keen on being around them come nightfall,” said Brannon.
Sir Eldrick watched Brannon stare at the strangers and noted the fear in his eyes. “Tell me more about these leshiye of yours.”
“They are more lore than anything. Something the elder elves talk about occasionally around the fire. The leshy is said to be a forest sprite. They can assume any likeness, big or small. And as I said, they are tricksters who like to play pranks. But they have been known to lead travelers astray, and if made angry, they can be quite vicious.”
“And you say that they can mimic any likeness. Does that include voice and mannerisms?”
“Not that I know of. I doubt that we are dealing with leshiye though. There is no forest near here, and they are loath to travel beyond the woods.”
“If not leshiye, they’re something similar.”
“Ye know, now that I be thinkin’ ‘bout it, there be a dwarven legend about shape shiftin’ beings,” said Gibrig. “They be called the rokgar. But they be stone creatures who trick and kidnap dwarf kids who don’t mind their parents.”
“I don’t think we’re dealing with rokgar,” said Sir Eldrick. “What about you?” he said to Willow. “You remember anything important?”
Willow shrugged. “Aside from sprites and other kinds of fae, I can’t think of any.”
Sir Eldrick noticed then that when Willow spoke, so too did her counterpart, who walked with the others some two hundred yards away.
“Brannon, look over there with your elf eyes. Can you see my double speaking as I am?”
“Why does everyone assume that elves have such keen vision?”
“Just look!”
Brannon glanced over. “Say something then.”
“I like my women like I like my beer, fragrant and bubbly, with a good head,” said Sir Eldrick, which was the only thing he could think of.
Willow busted a gut, but Brannon gasped. “Your double mouthed the words exactly.”
“This is creepy,” said Gibrig.
“And that too, Gibrig’s double said that.”
“Say,” said Willow, scratching her neck. “You think that what’s in their bags is doubled as well? Like, say I got myself a nice piece of dried meat in my bag, does my double have one too?”
“I would assume,” said Sir Eldrick, and noticing how she licked her lips, he added, “But mind you leave them alone. We don’t want to get mixed up in whatever enchantment this is.”
“We can’t just ignore them and hope they go away,” said Brannon. He waved his arms and gulped when his double did the same.
“Right now, we keep going. If indeed they’re meant to lead us astray, then I will not engage them while traveling. When night falls, we will deal with these tricksters.”
Chapter 31
Inner Vision
The desert sun set slowly, and with the darkness came the cold. The companions’ clothes, damp with sweat, left them all shivering and miserable. Murland landed, teeth chattering, and reported that he had seen neither the tent, camels, nor anything else but sand dunes. He looked to them all warily, and Sir Eldrick knew what he was thinking.
“Do not fret, we are indeed your friends. That is to say, we are the original companions. Look, we have marked our hands with Brannon’s makeup.”
“It’s mascara,” said Brannon haug
htily.
“Whatever.”
“That does me no good,” said Murland. “You could still be the doubles as far as I know.”
Sir Eldrick thought for a moment. “Ah, when you left us, we were south of the doubles, and here we still are.”
“You could have changed position during the march. I wasn’t keeping track.”
“Damn it, man!” said Sir Eldrick.
Murland backed up, and his hand went to his wand in his robes.
Sir Eldrick glanced at the others. “Help me out here, guys.”
“I’m hungry as a motherbugger, if that helps,” said Willow.
“Remember, ye done told me about how ye knew ye was in love with Princess Caressa?” said Gibrig.
That helped to alleviate Murland’s suspicions, still, some remained.
“Look,” said Sir Eldrick. “No matter how good these imposters are at shapeshifting, they cannot mimic the power of my fae blade.” He unsheathed it and stomped off toward the doubles.
To his disbelief, his doppelganger did the same thing, and the twin sword shone just as brightly as Cryst. Murland, Brannon, Gibrig, and Willow followed him, standing behind him stoically when he stopped before his counterpart.
Everyone stared down their doubles, and they stared back.
“It is time that we settle this,” said Sir Eldrick’s double.
“Wait right there, whoever you are. Quit taking the words from my mouth,” said Sir Eldrick.
“If they come from my mouth first, are they not mine?” said his double.
Sir Eldrick raised his fae blade, and the action was mirrored by his double.
“This is Cryst,” they both said in unison.
“We don’t have to fight over this!” Gibrig and doppelganger Gibrig said together, and then looked at each other, perplexed.
“Quit saying what we say,” Murland told them, and not surprisingly, so too did his double.
Beyond the Wide Wall: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 2) Page 22
