Ellen Under The Stairs

by John Stockmyer

  Another laugh. "And what is it you have to bargain with, pretend Mage?"

  A question with no answer, John's mind frantically searching for some leverage over Pfnaravin. Any leverage.

  John heard the sound of a dislodged stone. Turned to see Platinia, the girl disobeying his orders for the final time.

  Clinging to any hope, could he dodge the deadly electric bolt Pfnaravin would release at him, Pfnaravin's strike to come as soon as the devil-Mage finished playing with him, Pfnaravin the cat, John the helpless mouse?

  Though still up-light, perhaps it was dark enough for Pfnaravin to miss. If John turned to run, dodging this way and that, he might still escape!

  Except he couldn't even take the coward's way out. Not without leaving Ellen in Pfnaravin's power. Not without abandoning little Platinia.

  Pfnaravin. So confident. So ... tall.

  Tall, because he was standing on the stones Pfnaravin had blasted off the corners of the trading station just within Cinnabar, the stones to add weight in low gravity bands.

  John's mind shying from the reality of imminent death, he wondered how Pfnaravin kept the stones attached to the bottom of his boots. Not with the help of the man-spiders, the tunnel-men commanding their spider helpers to weave sticky webs around John's and Platinia's shoes.

  Mage Magic. That was how Pfnaravin held the stones to his boots. He was using a form of Mage restraint; like the force ensnaring Ellen.

  Fire stones, Coluth had thought, the rock trading floor was made of fire stone.

  Fire stones .....

  John had an idea, a desperate idea better than none. Something to try that didn't take Crystal power.

  What he'd remembered was that anyone -- including him -- could heat up fire stones in this place of magic. Not to the point of boiling water, but ....

  Concentrating on the fire stones beneath Pfnaravin's boots, John began to think them ... hot, as he did that, felt another magic force at work. Platinia, still back of him, was adding her thoughts to his.

  Meanwhile, tired of playing cat and mouse, Pfnaravin had started to rub his Crystal to build sufficient force to kill both John and Platinia.

  Hotter.

  Hotter.

  With a yell, Pfnaravin released the fire stones, the old Mage jumping up, the fire stones glowing with a dull heat, the Malachite Mage continuing to drift skyward, Pfnaravin yelling, twisting his body in an attempt to regain control.

  Rising, but not far, Pfnaravin hit the sharply sloping dome that substituted for the sky in this Bandworld.

  Bouncing off the dome, spun about by the force of his hit, Pfnaravin again struck earth, but not the fire stones that held him to the ground, the old Mage colliding with the land only to rebound into the sky once more, headed for the dome not that far over head.

  Screaming curses, still twisting, Pfnaravin pointed his hands at John and Platinia, loosing a Crystal blast with enough force to wither them both, the static-fire missing to the right, gouging stones but doing John no harm.

  The force of the Crystal-blast increasing his spin, Pfnaravin ricocheting off the sky dome once more, this time coming back at an angle, headed, not for the stony ground but ....

  Though the old Mage's curses could still be heard, his yell echoing from the iron dome above, the sounds were growing fainter. Fainter still, because ... Pfnaravin had plunged over the edge of the last Band of the world!

  As if emerging from a spell, John saw Ellen, floating, floating toward the edge ....

  And John was running after her, not thinking about planting one foot before lifting another!

  Coming nearer! Nearer!

  Grabbing her arm as she was drifting off the stony ledge and ... down ... John pulled her back.

  "What ... happened," she asked. Released from Mage restraint, she was blinking her eyes in the faint light, safe now that John had a firm grip on her. "Where am I?"

  "You're fine," John said, at long last believing it was true.

  "I can't ... settle," she said.

  "That's because there's so little gravity here."

  "Where?"

  "It doesn't matter. You're safe. I've got you."

  "I'm tired," she said, closing her eyes, putting her head on his shoulder.

  Now that the danger was over, now that he'd survived what he thought would be certain death, John had begun to shake, fighting with himself ... to settle.

  All that remained was for John to take Ellen back, John turning to see Platinia ... waiting.

  And yet ....

  An irresistible urge had possessed him. A mesmeric "pull" emanating from sailors' yarns of sailing west, only to reach an ocean so hot it boiled the pitch from the seams of wooden ships. West -- to witness sea monsters dragging ships and their sailors to a watery grave, these and similar myths spawned from the fear of falling off the edge of the earth -- somewhere beyond the Azores -- off the coast of Spain.

  Wrong country. Wrong time. John knowing it was only the farthest reaches of coincidence that had given him the chance to be the first adventurer to reach the edge ... of at least one world.

  Was it curiosity? An impulse to flesh out an historic chimera?

  John didn't know. Knew only that, now that he'd come this far, he must look ... over the edge of the world.

  Gripping Ellen, shuffling to the rim, the edge slanting sharply to the void, he leaned over, to look down ... to see ... seeing ...........

  Before turning to walk back to sanity. To the tunnels of the spider men. To Realgar. To Stil-de-grain.

  And home.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 24

  Seeing into John-Lyon's mind, Platinia had helped him heat the stones under the feet of the old Mage. After that, Pfnaravin flying up, the young Mage made him disappear. Where he had gone, Platinia did not know. Only knew that the magic of John-Lyon was greater than even she had known!

  After that, John-Lyon holding on to the woman, they had gone back into the spider-men's tunnel, John-Lyon telling the woman she was safe from Pfnaravin, but that she would feel weak because of Band Sickness. Because Cinnabar was a stronger pulling band than down-land.

  Platinia was glad to have been in down-land too short a time to catch Band Sickness!

  The spider men, while very much afraid of the Mage -- Platinia making sure they feared his strength, also that his green, green eyes would melt them unless they obeyed him -- were very glad Pfnaravin was gone. At the Mage's wish, the tall, white men commanded their tiny spiders to spin webs around the woman's boots so she could walk in the tunnels.

  As for the woman, she did not know what had happened except that, though weak like the Mage said she would be, she was no longer ill?? The Mage was glad to hear that, whatever "ill" might mean.

  John-Lyon told the spider men he would keep their tunnels a secret. Promised that Platinia and Ellen would not tell, either. And Platinia would not, Platinia even more afraid of the Mage's power to punish than before. Afraid of him, but in love with him at the same time, Platinia not understanding how that could be. Mage-Magic was all she could think of to explain her fear/love.

  They stayed with the tall white men and their tiny spider helpers until the woman could walk without tiring too much, leaving the spider-land by a tunnel opening near the band of Realgar.

  Walking slowly, the dust from the dead grass rising around them, they soon met another grass-dust cloud coming the other way -- Admiral Coluth, Golden, and the sailors making that dust, the Admiral very much glad to see John-Lyon, saying he and Golden had to fight the Malachites very little, though fighting some in Realgar to slow them down. But mostly, seeing John-Lyon go into The Cinnabar, Coluth and the others had also crossed into the red band. That the Malachite soldiers, coming to the border, would not cross it, no matter how much their officer shouted at them.

  So, the Malachites had turned back.

  When the Mage, the other men, and Platinia crossed again into Realgar they were all very tired. Band Sickness.

  It was
so difficult to climb into a tree to be safe from the down-light horrors that Platinia had to have John-Lyon carry her up, the Mage with more strength than the others. Because his world was a heavy pulling band. Platinia had been there and that was the truth!

  Resting in the tree, the sailors bringing up food, Realgar guards came. Climbing down, John-Lyon let the guards guide them to Helianthin's Mage Castle.

  Entering the Mage castle, everyone came around them, smiling very much, laughing very much, all saying John-Lyon was a hero because he defeated Pfnaravin.

  The fat Mage, Helianthin, said John-Lyon was a hero. Said that with many, many words.

  Later in their room, John-Lyon said to Admiral Coluth that everyone was your friend when you were winning. Not many were your friends when you were losing. Platinia thought there was truth to that.

  There were ceremonies, with much food to eat. There were speeches after banquets, but Platinia, eating very much, mostly fell asleep and did not hear what was said.

  Messenger birds were taught to speak and sent. Golden ones flew to Stil-de-grain. Orange ones come from Stil-de-grain, returning to say that the Malachite ships at Xanthan island had gone home. With Pfnaravin gone, with John-Lyon seen as very powerful, the Malachites had said there should be peace and had gone home.

  Platinia wished she could pet the pretty birds. Gagar had let her pet them in their cages. But the bird-man here did not let her. She did find a cat to pet! Two cats to pet!

  They stayed for a long time in Realgar until all were cured of the Band Sickness.

  After that, a boat from Stil-de-grain came to take them to Xanthin island.

  Again, crowds came to the harbor and shouted very much. Thanking the Mage for ending the war.

  Once more they were very sick with the heaviness, strong men carrying Platinia off the boat to lie down in the back of a pony cart, the cart taking her to Xanthin Palace where she was put to bed.

  The Mage came to see her, which made her glad. He was sweating very much. They were all sweating very much because Stil-de-grain was a warmer band than Realgar. Cinnabar was even colder. Down-land colder still. The Mage told her about a people called Eskimos who lived in a very cold place. How they were too hot in places where everyone else was cold. How people got used to the places where they were living for a long time, Platinia thinking that was true.

  As for Platinia, she would rather be too hot than too cold, but was glad when she was feeling stronger and when she was feeling not too hot again.

  After a long time, John-Lyon said they must return to Hero castle. To take the woman home. But Platinia was not fooled. She knew the Mage would also go to that other world. She must stop him! For she could not be sure that the Mage would come back again. Not having the Mage near her would hurt her very much! Platinia had made the Mage love her once before. She must do that again so he would never go to the terrible other world.

  * * * * *

  For the first time in a long time John Lyon was at peace. Funny how, when you didn't have it, you wanted fame and fortune. And how quickly you tired of people fawning on you.

  Away from the crowd at last, safe in Hero Castle, he could dress in a white cotton robe instead of in the more impressive Mage silk. Learning that Cinnabar spiders had spun the Mage-cloth had made him feel ... creepy; a feeling he hadn't been able to shake. Pound for pound, spider webs were stronger than steel. At least that was their reputation at home, strong and sticky enough to entrap bugs many times the size of spiders. John wondered how the white men of Cinnabar counteracted the webs' stickiness in order to spin cloth out of them. But hadn't wanted to stay in the red band long enough to find out. Nor had he discovered how the men communicated with the spiders. Or, what the spiders ate. Not bugs, surely, in that barren band.

  Now that he knew the content of Mage-cloth, he'd rather wear cotton or wool, John never feeling friendly toward spiders. Not that he was afraid of them as were so many. It wasn't fear that made him cringe when putting on one of the ever so elegant Mage robes ... he told himself.

  It had been at least two weeks since they'd journeyed from Canarin, taking the ferry over the Tartrazine, after that laboring up the increasingly stony Hero mountains to arrive at Hero Castle that morning, the castle slaveys finished serving the noon meal of meat, bread, gravy, and dried fruit -- John's party spaced along the harvest table in the castle's clerestory-lighted dining room. John, Coluth, and the Admiral's men -- the sailors, even the Admiral, dressed in the leather of common seamen. Also Golden -- elegant in anything he wore -- Platinia (in black), and Zwicia, the flabby, old weird in ever-present purple, a turban wrapped around what was left of her hair-wisps. Also Leet, Gagar to follow shortly.

  Hero Castle -- where nothing seemed to change.

  "Any news of Pfnaravin?" John asked, breaking a piece of heavy bread, following local custom by buttering it with his thumb.

  "No," Coluth said, Golden nodding his agreement.

  "No messenger birds flying to Gagar?"

  "You, yourself, would have heard them speak."

  "I suppose that's true. What I'd really like to talk about is what will happen in the Bands with Pfnaravin's crystal no longer in the picture?" What John didn't say was Pfnaravin's and John's Crystals no longer available for Magical output. For John was taking Ellen home, before down-light if he could -- something Golden knew, John giving Golden John's Mage-Disk before they turned in at last night's inn. The Crystal would perform only for John, of course, until John's death, John alert last night for any attempt on Golden's part to sneak up on John with evil intent, Golden doing nothing of the sort. Though possession of the Disk hadn't been enough to make Golden King of Malachite the last time he'd tried to overthrow Lithoid, it could still help Golden as a badge of authority.

  "And Auro? No rumors about the evil Mage-King of Azare gaining back his strength?" John knew there'd been nothing new on Auro, either. Was just making the point that there had been a drastic reduction of Mage-Magic in the bands. Not all that bad, Crystal-Magic often used aggressively, as he well knew.

  "I was wondering about another thing. Does the intensity of the light in different bands affect the power of Mage-Disks?"

  No one seemed to know what he was talking about -- nothing new about that. Eyes lowered, the others continued spooning up meat and steamed vegetables. Taking gulps of mint flavored milk.

  "There didn't seem to be any way to charge up a Crystal in down-land, for instance. If the slant of light off the dome makes a difference in a Crystal's power, Helianthin of Realgar -- living out toward the edge -- may have less Crystal-force than Mages located in the inner Bands. As for the Cinnabar Mage, Cryo (John wondering if the spider men's collective mind was the King,) he made no effort to use Disk-Magic. This could mean his Crystal has little power."

  Speculation. But given the eventual shortage of Mage-Crystals, maybe an important one. Should Realgar try for "all the marbles," for instance, it might not matter to the defense of Stil-de-grain for Helianthin to have this world's only working disk. Provided it couldn't produce much Crystal-force.

  So much for that topic.

  "What about you, Zwicia? Has your Weird-Disk shown any danger lurking around the corner?"

  Oinking her head up from her trough, Zwicia fluttered her eyes and hands. "No see'a. No see'a."

  "Anything about Pfnaravin?"

  "No see'a! No see'a!"

  "Thank you, Zwicia." No sense agitating the old woman with more questions. Particularly, since her answers were usually unintelligible. "No see'a," would have to do for the present.

  "My plan is to return home with Ellen," John announced, to no one's particularly surprise. It wasn't the first time John had returned to Hero Castle for the purpose of taking the static-electric "bridge" between worlds. "The reason I asked about the absence of Crystal power is that, while I'm gone, the only working Crystals will be in the hands of Helianthin, and, maybe, of Cryo of Cinnabar. That's assuming that Auro is out of the picture for good. Since Mages see
m to think their Crystals give them license to take over the world, I think it would be a good idea to let them believe that my Crystal is still operative. By the way, I've loaned my Disk to Golden in hopes, as a badge of authority, it will help him overthrow his uncle"

  Nods all around.

  "There will still be magic in the light. Fire stone magic. Healing magic. Language translation -- that kind of thing. All beneficial. Though Zwicia's Disk can be helpful -- at least hasn't been harmful -- Bandworld may be better off without Crystal Magic."

  "May I ask, great Mage, will you return?" Coluth. Raw boned as ever. His weathered skin looking smoother in interior light.

  "I ... don't know."

  "We would all welcome you."

  "Thank you. And when I've returned to my own world I'll miss the lot of you. I have more friends here than at home." Something of a revelation, even to John. About the only friend John had at home was Paul, John's feelings for Ellen complicating even that limited friendship. He would miss these people.

  "You will go this day?" Golden. Always with a direct question. Dark sober eyes. Black hair cropped closer than Stil-de-grain style: the short hair of the serious athletic.

  "That's the plan. Zwica to stay here at Hero Castle. Platinia, as well. Coluth to continue bringing the navy up to speed. Without Crystal-Magic, the regular military is more important than ever.

  "And you, Golden, do what you must to unseat Lithoid. I think everyone in the Bands would sleep better if you were king of Malachite. Just don't get yourself killed."

  "As you say," Golden answered, whatever that might mean. John had never quite figured out the multi-talented youth, not that he had to.

  "Since it falls to me to strengthen the navy," Coluth said, "might I ask the secret of the magic of the fire stone ship?"

  "I've given that a lot of thought, Coluth. And I think it's better if no ideas from my world are allowed to take root here."

  An answer that didn't please the Admiral. "This world was started by the ideas of the Hero," Coluth countered, knowing John well enough that he could argue -- a little. "It was the Hero who, in the long ago, went to your world and returned with all this knowledge." Coluth waved his hands at the room, meaning the medieval ideas that underpinned Bandworld.