Bridge Between the Worlds

by R. B. L. Gillmore

  Amy felt the vibration of the seat underneath her before she could open her eyes and realised that this must mean she was in a car. That was very odd. Why was she in a car? She was going to try and get some sleep in the cave. She forced her eyelids open a crack so that she could see the bleary forms of the world around her. She was in the back seat of the Range Rover and they were travelling through a reasonably sized town. The bright lights flashing past hurt her eyes badly as they tried to adjust, they had seen nothing but darkness for a long period of time. She closed her eyes again. It was too painful. For a while she focused on the sound of the traffic around them but then the voices started up. As before, Amy struggled but this time she could actually make out the words, they held some meaning to her.

  “I still reckon we should give it more time. She must be close to wakin’” said the strange voice.

  “We can’t take that risk anymore,” replied the clear voice of a young man. “If she doesn’t wake up in the next few hours she could die! She has gone so long without food or water!”

  “Don’t underestimate the abilities of an elven dreamwalker Martay, they’re capable of inhuman feats. The elves used to ‘ibernate in dreamstates for years, they could just shut their bodies down.”

  “She’s only half elf and she’s not even fully trained yet Snipping, what if she doesn’t…”

  “Know ‘ow?”

  Snipping cut across Martay's words.

  “Clearly an Arbiter’s guidin’ ‘er actions in the dream plane.”

  “I don’t care! We’re going to the hospital! At least to check!”

  The words were starting to make less and less sense. Amy couldn’t keep following the thread of the conversation. The last thing she heard was, “If the enemy finds us in a city we can kiss ‘er freedom goodbye Martay.”

  Amy’s heart was pounding. The fear in the strange voice penetrated her feelings far more deeply than the meaning of the words themselves. She couldn’t stay focused though, she slipped out of consciousness again.

  For a moment Amy thought she was still in the other world. She realised now that it was definitely the same world and the same people that she kept seeing. The glowing crystals above her were like the neon signs of the city she had been driving through.

  She sat up and shivered. Everything felt like it had been turned inside out. She didn’t know what was real or fake anymore, dream or reality. What if this world was the dream? What if the two voices were real and in danger because of her? She struggled to make this idea seem real in her head. The world around her now was so solid and clear. The wind suddenly howling around the rocks sending a chill down her spine. She could just make out the Arbiter, still standing firmly in the entryway. As if he had heard or sensed her movement, he slowly turned and walked back into the cave.

  The walls seemed to close silently behind him, or was it that they had simply been obscured by darkness? Amy felt nervous, as if she was boxed in. She hated this cave, she wanted to get out, go anywhere else. In here she felt in danger, the cave itself seemed threatening and something very deep seated inside her was disturbed.

  “Arbiter, I want to leave, now! There must be somewhere we can go.”

  “When did you start calling me Arbiter Amriel?”

  “What? How is that important? I’ve always called you Arbiter!”

  “That you have not. What has happened Amriel, what have you seen?”

  “It’s the boys, I keep seeing them in my dreams… if they even are dreams. I don’t know anymore, what if this is the dream? Hell, if this is the dream then you aren’t even real and I’m just talking with my own subconscious!”

  “I am not a graphic depiction of your subconscious Amriel. Dreams are very real in their own way and you know this. Besides, if I was part of your subconscious it would be a fantastic ability to be able to search yourself so deeply and achieve such considered understanding.”

  “Yes, but I… what?” Amy felt her head swim and her heart pound, torn between rising terror and worry for the two boys in the dream… or was it reality? The Arbiter was only confusing her. She needed to know what was the dream and what was the physical world. She needed to know if they were in trouble for real or not.

  “Amriel, doing this might set a dangerous precedent but the enemy is pressing in and soon I will be forced out of your dream zone. This is the dream plane. Your friends Martay and Snipping are with you on earth and you need to try and get back to them now! You have revealed yourself in the dream plane and the enemy is attacking your mind! You must find a way to awaken!”

  The lights above them flickered weakly.

  “Dreams are real too, Amriel, and you are in more danger here than the boys are on earth.”

  Amy shot a look up at the lights and when she looked down the Arbiter was gone. Darkness was filling the cave entrance. She closed her eyes.

  Amy was in a hospital bed. Right as she opened her eyes a door burst open and a policeman came through. Martay yelled loudly and ran at him. In a panic the policeman drew his pistol. He clearly thought Martay was mad and dangerous.

  The lights above Amy were flickering. She was still in the cave as well, straddled between the two worlds. The darkness was pressing in on her. Whispers filled her head like voices in an echoey room bouncing back and forth, getting closer and closer. The enemy was going to take control of her mind. Martay was going to die!

  “NOOOOOOOO!!!”

  Amy screamed at the top of her lungs in the dream plane and the real world. Light blasted out from inside her like the explosion of an enormous bomb. The darkness was consumed by it, the voices gone. She was awake in the hospital.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The South Marsh Kingdom, as it was known to most of the humans in the North, was in fact called Saantusuria and was home to the humanoid lizardmen. They were every bit as old and well established as the humans, with a rich history that they claimed long preceded their neighbors’. The royal capital, Artria, was based in swamp lands. However, by truly impressive feats of engineering they had managed to establish the massive, intricately carved home of their kings known as the sunken palace.

  This was a somewhat deceiving name since at its peak the palace towered over the treetops of the surrounding trees. The name was primarily used in reference to the multiple levels, built like a labyrinth below the swamp’s surface, deep enough to be founded on solid ground far under the soft marsh bed.

  It was at the palace’s peak that King Silas currently stood, gazing through the staggering glass dome that sat nestled between four square pillars of stone, jutting from the top of the main structure.

  The glass had been a gift from the humans as thanks for Saantusuria’s aid in the last Great War. The war was exactly what Silas was thinking of right now.

  He had been a young officer in what was, traditionally, the very minimal armed branch of the government. This was one of the many ways in which Silas’s people differed greatly from the humans. Firstly, they lived much longer, up to two hundred years as a rule and typically beyond. Some of their elders were approaching three hundred. Secondly, their royalty was not a matter of blood. Kings were elected for their demonstrated ability to pass fair judgment, manage civic needs, communicate with trade partners and generally maintain peace. To them, maintaining peace had always meant fewer armed forces, more diplomacy and a somewhat introverted attitude as a nation. History attested to the success of their approach. Saantusuria had not directly attacked or been attacked by any other nation for over a millennium. The Great War didn’t count. Gorhoth had no interest in Saantusuria, but the humans of the north had been in dire need and begged for assistance.

  “Could it be happening again?” Silas thought to himself.

  Something bad was clearly happening in the neighboring Kingdom. Their senior officers were in stark disagreement with each other. According to Silas’s sources they had been raided and attacked as well. Perhaps it was no surprise they had lent no aid when Silas had called for it?


  “Still,” Silas thought angrily, “surely they could have done something! Aiding Saantusuria could only help get to the bottom of their own problem. How could they not see this?”

  The only beacon of sanity from the realm of men had been Samuka, who had personally sent apologies to Silas. Silas got the impression that the sending of this message had been in gross defiance of orders, and mused over the idea that the rebellious actions of one man could prevent an entire war. The message had revealed the level of unrest in the human kingdom.

  All in all, Silas feared the worst. There may not have been rumor of Gorhoth by name but the world’s misfortunes had come to be associated with him and unpleasant occurences were increasing rapidly.

  The sun finally sank low enough to hit the small device perched on top of the dome. Silas had been waiting patiently for the moment, a wait which was always well rewarded. The device directed the powerful afternoon sun straight into a ring of crystals, which then refracted into the dome. The dome itself was made up of multiple panels that locked into grooves which had ben carved in the crystal veins. The effect was to produce a picture of light, as if someone had drawn constellation outlines in the air. Blended with the fiery colors of afternoon filtering through the glass panels, it was an awesome work of art. Silas smiled in the moment of serenity. The display served as a timely reminder. Prone as the humans were to poor behavior, greed and pride, they could achieve truly incredible feats when they were developed in the right way. Perhaps his current problem was really a case of helping his neighbors with a little social weeding. There would undoubtedly be fewer bad eggs than good in their midst. Remove them, and the remaining people of good character could be allowed to thrive again.

  Silas turned and made his way to the stairs as the light started to filter out of the dome. He proceeded purposefully towards his chief diplomat’s quarters.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Chapter 13

  Martay carried Amy in his arms as he and Snipping stepped off the train and his foot sank heavily in the snow. Snipping was managing the extra bags as best he could but it was struggle and Martay could see it. They had no time. People were moving about the train nervously trying to work out what was going on. A few officials had also gotten off the train to check the surroundings and the tracks. No other members of the public had disembarked, which meant they would stand out standing around outside.

  They trudged away from the train up the sloping mountain side. The effort required was enormous but adrenalin was pounding through them. They didn’t need to go far to get out of sight. Martay shot continuous looks over his shoulder at the train and on the third look he spotted something odd but not unexpected. Through the now relit windows, Martay saw cabin doors being opened in succession. Then the guard appeared in the isle between the general seating. Anyone would have guessed that he was checking to make sure people were alright. Martay and Snipping came to a very different conclusion.

  “He’s not speaking to anyone, you can see he is keeping his mouth shut,” said Martay.

  Snipping promptly added to Martay's assessment.

  “His stance and bearin’ are gettin’ a lot more natural but ‘e still seems stiff and slightly awkward in ‘is movements.”

  They were not talking so much about the guard as the force they knew was controlling him. Martay and Snipping knew beyond any doubt that they were being hunted.

  “Come on, let’s get behind some of the larger trees and get some warmer clothes on before we go any further. And I want to check on Amy properly.”

  In the heat of the moment Martay had switched to Hungarian. Fortunately, this was of little consequence to Snipping. He grunted his approval.

  A little further onwards the trees bunched together more tightly and they quickly dropped their bags and started fishing for warm clothes. Snipping pulled on his enormous jacket and beanie but Martay struggled to first dress the limp, unconscious Amy. He fumbled with her gloves, his own hands shaking violently in the cold without any protection. Soon though he had them fitted and managed to pull on her jacket for her. Her legs he wrapped as tightly as he could in their spare blanket that had previously been used to cover and hide Snipping. Once he was done he gingerly pulled on his own gear, breathing heavily into his gloves to warm them before pulling them over his chilled fingers.

  Finally, he bent down to check Amy. He placed his head carefully above her nose to listen to her breathing but it was imperceptibly faint. Tears of concern welled in his eyes as he looked down at her. Her hair was splayed erratically around her shoulders and her eyes were closed, though only just. He carefully lifted one of her lids and realised with a pang of discomfort that her eyes were still staring up at him unseeingly. She may have been alive but the knock to her head had been severe.

  “Martay,” Snipping’s voice was uneasy, “what’s that in the snow beside ‘er head?”

  Martay bent down to take a closer look and realised that the stain in the snow was blood. Had he looked before pulling on his jacket he would have seen more of it on the sleeve of his pullover as well.

  “Help me lift her up, quickly, so I can check her head!”

  Snipping knelt in the snow and gently lifted Amy’s torso whilst Martay caressed her head and searched for the source of the blood. To his sweeping relief he discovered that the cut was only very small, buried beneath her hair where she had a large lump. What had happened became abundantly clear. As she had been about to sit down, the brakes had been pulled on and she had been slammed backwards into the baggage racks, smacking her head hard against it and rendering her unconscious. Thankfully from what he could see in the dim moonlight the knock hadn’t left much surface damage. With a bit of luck, she would regain consciousness in a few hours. For now, they couldn’t waste any more time. They quickly packed essentials into the two larger backpacks and left the excess behind.

  “Where to now Snipping?”

  “South, followin’ the train line at a distance. We don’t ‘ave the means to trudge through wilderness in the mountains, we need to find some kind o’ town or village for food. It can’t be far to some form o’ civilization ‘ere and the train is the best compass we ‘ave to lead us there. We just want to avoid bein’ seen as we follow the line. Are ya ok carryin’ her?”

  “Of course I am, I…” they heard a branch crack loudly down the slope somewhere. The train was obscured from view by the trees, but had they been able to see it they would have realised that the possessed guard had completed his search of the train and had now exited. The noise was enough to make them jump and without another word they grabbed the bags and got moving.

  It wasn’t easy, Amy was limp and heavy in Martay's arms which slowed him down drastically and Snipping’s short legs struggled in the snow. Martay felt panicked. No matter how hard he tried and pressed on, he was sure they weren’t moving fast enough. He constantly checked over his shoulder and his ears were strained, listening for any sound other than their own struggling steps. A few times he thought he heard another noise, like someone scrabbling in the snow. It was hard to tell from the sounds alone but Martay was starting to think that the guard might be struggling as much as they were.

  They had not gotten much further when a sound from behind them echoed through the air so loudly and crisply that Martay and Snipping both flinched and ducked instinctively. But in fact, it was the train horn being blown loudly to indicate it was moving onward again. The crew must have realised that a guard was missing though because as the sound of its wheels reached them, they could tell it was travelling exceedingly slowly.

  Upon hearing the blast, the guard let out a confused yelp, followed by a string of French words, some of which Martay recognised as swearing. He had clearly come to his senses and realised he was out in the elements and not on the train. An amusing thought suddenly occurred to Martay. If the guard had been controlled, that meant he had been dreaming before the train stopped. Well, thought Martay, before HE stopped the train. Anyway, it meant that the last thing
he would have remembered was dozing off in his chair or something. How would he explain to himself waking up, standing in the snow several meters out of sight from the train?

  “At least the immediate danger ‘as passed but we still ‘ave a problem.”

  “Stuck in the middle of no-where with no food, in the Alps in winter? Yes, I think you’re right. I’m sure it will be safe to use our phones here at least.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Snipping, “quite safe. Let’s see where we are. Hopefully we aren’t far from a town.”

  Martay lay Amy down in the snow and quickly fumbled around in his pockets until eventually he found what he was looking for. The phone still had some battery left but it had been some time since he had recharged it, and using the GPS function would use up what battery remained very quickly. He waited as patiently as he could while the phone tried to pinpoint their location.

  As it happened, they were nearly at the border with Italy and the train line passed through a town a few kilometres further ahead. The distance could have been ten times further under normal circumstances and seem less daunting. Approximately eight kilometres in deep snow carrying Amy would be a herculean task. The maps suggested that a little road wound through the mountains near to where they were, about a kilometre in front of them but they were hesitant about following it once they got there. The enemy would surely not give up so easily. He knew they were stranded here in the snow and would come looking for them. Nevertheless, they agreed to aim for the road to begin with. There must be some reason a road came up into the hills and stopped there. Any prospect of food or shelter, however unlikely, was a welcome one.

  As they feared, the hike was exceptionally long and arduous for both of them. Time seemed to slow down to an almost painful pace. Thankfully the breeze was not too strong or they would have been completely frozen. As it was, the labour of hiking, laden with heavy burdens in the snow made them feel hot and sweaty despite the cold. But their feet enjoyed no warmth. They felt like iceblocks filling their shoes. Martay tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, again and again. He had slung Amy as gently as he could across his shoulders to make the hiking easier but he was overly conscious of her comfort and switched occasionally to holding her in his arms. This slowed him down further, which deeply irritated Snipping, but he himself was too focused on walking to make any comment.