When all hope seemed lost, in their hour of need,
salvation arrived. A fallen Star named Risa. It
shattered into seven Shards as it landed. Envoys
from each of the races under the Light—dwarves,
elves, fairies, men, and zöpüta—were sent to find
these Shards. They returned, imbued with great
power, and partitioned the Light and Darkness,
separating the two. We reside in the Light, and
the Dark Realm is separate. Be thankful, my
people, that fortune and Elysia have smiled
upon us so.
“That,” finished Sardâr, “is from the Testament of Arafat, who was a priest active in my home kingdom eighteen hundred years ago. There are similar tales from almost every world.” He began taking books off the pile and depositing them on the table. “The Gospel of Prorok, Tiên Tri’s Reading of Ultimate Truth, The Divine Message of Yeeonja …”
“But it’s all just a myth, isn’t it?” Lucy didn’t sound very convinced. “It’s etiological, a prescientific explanation, like the plagues of Egypt.”
“We thought so too,” Sardâr replied darkly. “We thought it was all a fairy tale from some ancient religion, long since dead. We thought we’d narrowed our existence down to complete rational understanding through science. But we were wrong. We never thought that a war—one war—could draw in so many different worlds and peoples. The more we dug, however, the more we came to realize our distant ancestors established links between worlds long before we originally thought—we thought we first discovered them. But being able to travel between worlds isn’t the worrying part of the legend. The worrying part is the existence of Darkness as a real, substantial force in our world.”
The atmosphere in the room darkened distinctly. The shadows seemed to become more pronounced; the lines of Sardâr’s face accentuated. He took to gazing into the fire, the flickering serpentine patterns dancing across his tired features.
“We reside in the Light,” he continued, “but there is a flip side to our existence, which permeates our universe. Not a physical world like our Light Realm but a Dark Realm. It is a world of the collective, monolithic, formless force of destruction. All things are part of this struggle between Light and Dark. The question is: will the Light irradiate the Dark, or will the Dark consume the Light? You have obviously come into contact with demons now. They are not creatures as we in the Light understand them. They are not individuals but an embodiment of a single collective force, compressed into physical form by the constraints of the Light. They are, to all intents and purposes, anti-mortals. They possess no emotion or sentiment; they are merely tentacle-like extensions of the single Darkness with the sole drive to consume the Light.”
Neither Jack nor Lucy said anything, nor did they look at each other. Jack was remembering the ethereal gleam in the eyes of the hellhound and whatever they had just faced. It was the same shared gleam of rapacious hunger.
“What about the Cult of Dionysus?” Jack ventured after a long silence.
“We know very little about them.” Sardâr finally broke his gaze from the fire. “Though we are certain that they are all potent sorcerers who have no qualms about using the Darkness to their own ends, despite the horrendous implications such actions have for the mortal form. So powerful that they have found ways to travel between worlds without vessels.”
“But what do they want? Why did they come to Earth?”
“We believe that what the Cult desires is nothing less than the domination of as many worlds as possible. They believe, not without reason, that unparalleled power can be attained by communion with the Darkness. Foolishly, though, they think they can manipulate the Darkness to their own ends. Our intelligence suggests a plot to create something akin to a superweapon: the Aterosa; some sort of device powered by Darkness itself. That, I believe, is why the Cult came to your world. It appears that one of the few remaining connections to the Darkness— a temporal Door—has been left untapped nearby your home.”
“So you’re telling us,” Lucy said, “that Birchford, the least exciting country town in England, actually houses a gate to another dimension, and the reason we’re here is that it was found by a cult of satanic wizards trying to build a magical bomb?”
“Yes. A very insightful judgement on your part.”
Lucy looked stunned.
Jack could relate to her disbelief. He had been pleasantly surprised at his ability to accept a monster hound, a group of sorcerers, a world-traversing turtle ship, and their arrival in a medieval kingdom without too much fuss. The problem was, now that everything was starting to fit together, it was forming an increasingly unassailable mental wall.
“So that thing inside the volcano … that was another demon?”
“Yes, and I’d wager a much more powerful one than the last ones you came across. It must have taken a colossal source of energy to summon such a creature. Which reminds me …” Sardâr reached around his neck and pulled out a cord. Dangling on the end was a bright Shard of crystal, glimmering in the flames, almost identical to Jack’s.
Instinctively, Jack took off his own and held it up to the light.
“I thought as much,” Sardâr said quietly, a glint of understanding in his eye. “Hakim and Adâ told me about your impressive exploits earlier today. I mean no offence, but I doubted that a teenager with no training in any sort of combat, let alone with a sword, would have been able to do that.”
“So these are the Shards in that story? And Alex has another one?”
“Yes, it appears that these are two Shards of the Risa Star. But we must be certain.” He held it up to Jack’s.
From the center of Sardâr’s, an inferno of crimson light rose. From Jack’s, tangential pure white dissected it. The face of each of them was illuminated with the other’s light. Lucy’s face was oddly bi-chromatic in the twin glows. After a few moments the lights faded, and they both took back their Shards.
“Yes,” said Sardâr, “the Seventh Shard, if I’m not mistaken. The one I hold is the First.”
Jack braced himself for the inevitable question of where he had gotten it. For some reason, he was unwilling to talk about the glowing fox. It shouldn’t seem strange in light of all the things that had happened to him, but he felt there was something about it that was different.
To his surprise, Sardâr moved on. “They originally were used to seal away the Darkness. Whether they will again this time is still in question.”
“What do you mean this time?” Lucy asked.
“Well, the Apollonians were formed about thirty years ago to combat the Cult. Since they appeared, the Cult has been attacking a variety of worlds, destroying all their defenses, enslaving the population, spreading despair, making them perfect prey to be absorbed into the Darkness as broken fragments. With each world that disappears, the Darkness encroaches into the Light, bringing them one step closer to the completion of their superweapon. To open a Door to Darkness requires a phenomenal amount of energy: that is why, we think, they too are after the Shards. I’ve been told that you have witnessed an almost completed ritual to open such a Door using another Shard—it is hard to conceive how close your world came to destruction.” Sardâr contemplated the fire.
For a moment, there was absolute silence. No noise came from the floors above or beneath them, no birdcalls from outside the window.
Sardâr blinked and turned back to them.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Lucy repeated. “And what about our families?”
For the first time Sardâr looked a little uncomfortable. “What happens to you is up to you. We could return you to Earth, but I would strongly advise against it. The Apollonians have headed off a major attack, but as long as there is a Door to Darkness there, they will return and in greater numbers too. You are most welcome to stay here, and we can keep an eye on you that way.”
Jack and Lucy looked at each other, weighing the options.
&
nbsp; “If we stay,” Jack said, “can you teach us how to use magic?”
Sardâr stared at Jack. “I understand the others have tried their best to keep this a secret from you?”
Jack and Lucy nodded.
Sardâr thought for a few moments. “I must apologize for this. We did not want to shock you … although in retrospect it seems pointless given what you have now seen and survived. What people from your world call magic, we call alchemy. Just as the Cult draws on the raw power of Darkness, so we in the Light can draw on the natural power of our world. I will explain it to you in more detail another time, but it does exist and can be very powerful and very dangerous. Its use, like anything else, varies across different worlds. We in my home city, Khălese, use it in everyday life. The dwarves here despise it, which is why I presume Adâ thought it would be so easy to conceal its existence from you while you were here, although without Hakim’s considerable skill with defensive spells, you both would have boiled inside Mount Fafnir. The people of your world used it in the past, but it was never approved of by certain authorities. More recently it seems to have been abandoned in favor of technology. When you do learn about it, you will see just what folly that is.”
“So you’ll teach us, then?”
“Yes, I think that would be a good idea. You will need to be able to protect yourselves.”
“And to fight too?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged. Certainly, Adâ and Hakim would be more than happy to help with that, and some of the dwarf militia are very talented in that area. You will need to become acquainted with the weapons of this world, as tiresome as it may seem, though more generally useful self-defense techniques will not go amiss, either.” Sardâr finished his drink.
The fire flickered, the shadows shifting across the uneven stone floor. The soft swish of the wind could be heard from outside the window.
“Well,” said Lucy resignedly, “I can’t leave if Jack’s still here. I guess I’ll have to postpone going home.” She smiled at Jack, and he returned it.
Throughout it all—the shopping, the bullying, the attacks by dark sorcerers—he knew he could count on Lucy.
Chapter VIII
elves and dwarves
Jack woke up the next morning extremely sore. The parts of his body where the armor had gouged marks were still red, and a hot bath the night before had done nothing to ease the pain. Getting dressed was a chore.
He and Lucy came out into the corridor to look for Adâ, but her room was empty of her and all her belongings.
Instead, they saw Hakim ascending the stairway towards them. “Adâ’s staying with Sardâr now. Come on. We’ve got a job to do.”
They went down the stairs and across the hallway to the cavernous entrance chamber. Like a massive network of arteries and veins becoming clogged with cholesterol, more and more refugees were crammed against the wall, and even more could be seen issuing group by group through the entrance gate. The difference now was that the queue for the dining hall seemed to be weaving downstairs and into these corridors. Dwarves in guard uniforms were distributing rations amongst those too old or too young to queue up.
Jack spotted Sardâr, his dark skin and tall figure easily recognizable amongst the dwarves around him. Adâ was nearby, handing out bread to a group of children. Again, Jack found himself wondering about the differences between elves and dwarves in height, figure, and skin tone.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Sardâr remarked as they drew closer. “We’re stretched really thin today. Grab a basket of bread, and you can help.”
They all spent the next hour passing out bread and milk to the refugee dwarves. Jack was struck by how exhausted they all looked. Not only did they seem to be worn down by the long trek on foot, but most were very thin and looked malnourished. The elderly were the feeblest. Some carried stumps of wood to help them walk with, and others too degenerated to make their own way had been laden on the wooden carts along with sacks of possessions.
There were many small children, and though they seemed in much higher spirits than everyone else, they too looked thin and pale. In particular, he noticed the age gap between the children and those of middle to old age. It was as if a generation were missing, and he did not like the thought of these crowds trudging across mountain terrain without any able-bodied young adults.
“So what is the difference between elves and dwarves, then?” he asked Sardâr as the two of them gave loaves to a family of eight.
“Very little,” the elf replied, smirking slightly at one of the guzzling children, “and a lot less than both sides would like to admit. There are elves in this world, just as there are dwarves in my world, which is why we’re able to get away with this. Incidentally,” he added, leaning closer, “you’re doing a very good job of being one of us.”
Jack felt nonplussed for a moment, then looked down at his new body. It had become so natural to him in the last two days that he had almost forgotten what had changed. “So does that mean there are elves—and dwarves—on Earth?”
“Well, there were,” Sardâr said, giving a flagon of milk to an old woman. “That’s another bit of evidence for our ancestors discovering how to travel between worlds hundreds of years before we could. Where do you think all your folktales came from? Sleeping Beauty? Snow White and the Seven Dwarves? The Elves and the Shoemaker? Mind you, most of those are highly embellished. As you can tell, we’re not pocket-sized, and, to my knowledge, none of us have tried our hand at nocturnal tailoring …”
Jack laughed.
“And trust me; I could count the fairies I know on one hand who would be willing to queue up to give gifts to a human baby.”
“So how many different races are there?” asked Jack. He was genuinely interested. Now that he had just about come to grips with the idea of other worlds, he wanted to find out as much as possible, particularly as they would be here for a while.
“We’re not really sure. The numbers are potentially limitless, given how many planets there are, but some are obviously more affluent than others. A few continually crop up in ancient myths—elves, dwarves, humans, fairies, goblins, and zöpüta. Isaac theorized that these six are the only sentient ones—they’re higher evolutionarily than say bears or fish—but there are many more. Trolls, merpeople, giants …”
“And each world has got its own continents, countries, cities, languages?”
“They’re all at least as diverse as your world is.”
They were joined by Adâ, who was being encircled and used as some kind of living maypole by the children she had just served. Jack was struck by the transformation that had come over her. She was no longer aloof and cool but could barely conceal her bright smile; she was laughing with the children and grinned at Jack when he caught her eye.
“Having fun?” she asked playfully as the children ran off.
“I’ve just been explaining to Jack about elves and dwarves.”
“Ah yes, that’s a fiery relationship there.”
Hearing that, something occurred to Jack. “You’re speaking differently.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your accent is different. It’s sort of …” He was going to say Persian or Arabic but realized that wouldn’t mean much to either of the elves.
“Oh, we’re speaking in Khălesen. It’s our native language. But that’s no problem for you,” she said, pointing at his ring. It was glowing again, but now with teal rather than green.
Jack became aware of a guard standing nearby, waiting to speak. They turned towards him.
He looked flustered, and, unlike the others, he was in armor without any rations to distribute. “His Majesty, King Thorin, requests your presence at an urgent war meeting.”
Adâ groaned but stopped at a reproachful glance from Sardâr. “Very well. We’ll go now.”
The guard nodded and left.
“What do you think it’s about?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, but it can’t be good. Jack, find Lucy. I think
you two should hear this.”
A few minutes later, Jack, Lucy, Sardâr, Hakim, and Adâ arrived at Thorin’s throne room. He was pacing when they came in, his violently ginger beard frayed and unkempt and his eyes ringed red and weary. Jack had seen him only the day before, but he already looked a shadow of his former self, as if he had been pacing around the throne room all night. Another dwarf was seated next to the throne, and he looked even worse for wear; his arm was in a sling, and his face was cut and bruised.
An attendant scuttled over to them and motioned for them to sit.
“Once again, Sardâr, it is a great relief that you are safe,” the king said.
“No thanks to you,” Adâ retorted, and Jack noticed that she was talking in the more rough Scandinavian accent he now associated with whatever the native language of this kingdom was.
“Quite,” Thorin replied, “but we have more pressing matters to deal with. There has been … well, the captain can explain it better than I …” He motioned to the seated dwarf, who cleared his throat painfully.
“We were on a surveillance expedition to the coast,” he began, “and they’re bringing in giants.”
Jack could tell this meant something to both Sardâr and Adâ, for they sat bolt upright in their chairs.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Colossal dwarves, the size of large trees. The stories are true.”
“So whoever’s behind this has gone to the bother of shipping in giants,” Sardâr said, rubbing his chin. “That is something.”
“Exactly,” concluded Thorin, “which is why we have no time to waste. We have passed the time when we could have abated this conflict before it started. Now it is unavoidable.”
“Excuse me,” interjected Jack, “but why is it unavoidable?”
Thorin turned his head to look at him.
“Because,” answered Sardâr when Thorin said nothing, “if whoever is behind this is bothering to ship giants in from other countries, possibly even other worlds, then they mean business. They won’t answer to a truce.”
“It could just be a threat,” Lucy said.
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