by Rain Oxford
Chapter 5
I rummaged through the junk room and uncovered a lot of objects that I didn’t know how to use, but that were clearly advanced technology even for Earth’s standards. The next morning, Homa woke me, as I had fallen asleep against what I was pretty sure was an MRI machine.
“Did you find anything that would help you fight Maori?”
I blushed. “Actually, no. I found a few weapons, but either I can’t work them or they’re dead.”
“Well, your companion is awake.”
“Thank you for waking me. Can you show me to his room? I haven’t learned my way around here yet.”
“Certainly. This way.” He led me to Kailo, who was eating bread and chatting with Cisie.
“I’m glad you made it,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“I have felt better. My people are tough, though. Cisie was explaining to me where we are and who they are.”
“Well, then I will let you get back to it. We have a way to get to the north quickly. I’m going to dig my brother out from under a pile of books and we can go as soon as you feel up to it.”
He nodded and I left. I knew my way to the library just fine. At least, I thought I did. When I opened a door to a young lady’s room while she was getting changed, her shriek was completely understandable. I slapped my hand over my eyes. “I’m so sorry! I was looking for the library!”
She cut her shriek off and calmly said. “Oh, it is two doors down on your left.”
“Thank you.” I shut the door.
Sighing, I knocked on the door she had said was the library. When no one answered, I opened the door. It was definitely the library. Relieved, I entered. As I walked down the center of the room, I called for Luca quietly. There was no answer. Instead, I found a little girl sitting in an easy chair with a book… wearing a set of white flannels with hearts on it.
She was about twelve, slender, with long, black, braided hair.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello, Nathan,” she answered without looking.
“How do you know my name?”
“We’ve met.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“We will, then.”
“Okay. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my brother.”
“He’s in another library.”
I stopped, half turned away from her. I doubted I could find another one. “Can you help me?”
“Not today. Maybe tomorrow, though. Or yesterday.”
She’s got to be the strangest child, I thought. She looked up at me and I was stunned by her bright green eyes, identical to Bast’s.
“I’m not a child,” she said, obviously having heard my thoughts.
“My mistake. You look about twelve.”
“I am about twelve. I am whenever I want to be.”
“What does that mean?”
“You wouldn’t understand. You can only move forward in time at a constant pace with no awareness of the influence your choices has on your future.”
“Are you some sort of time traveler?”
“No, I’m some sort of god.”
“I didn’t know Syndrial had… such a young goddess. Are you related to Bast?”
“I am not a goddess of Syndrial. I’m from Duran… usually. I just drop in sometimes because I like the books here.”
She didn’t answer my question about Bast. The more I looked at her, the more similarities I noticed. She had the same damned nose. “My brother is from Duran.”
“I know. My cat attacked him once.”
“What?”
“Never mind that. You want to know about Maori.”
“Yeah. Do you know about him?”
“I don’t, but I know a caster who does. If he’ll talk to you.”
“What’s his name?”
“No one knows. Like you, he passed the trials, but the power he was given makes him unstoppable. He has no physical form that anyone knows of. He knows everything about everyone, including your darkest secrets, but he gives nothing away of himself. Without a name or face, he can’t be captured.”
“Is he a good guy?”
“There is no good or evil. He will do whatever he chooses to suit his agenda, which no one has ever figured out.”
“He sounds stronger than Maori.”
“Without a doubt,” she agreed.
“Why would he help me?”
“I don’t know that he will now. I know that he will, but time means nothing to me. Right now, he’s staying at a small town, not really doing anything. I think he’s biding his time, but my mother says to stay out of it.”
“So he has the ability to know people or does he read thoughts or what?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know. He seems to know everything, but no one can get information from him that he doesn’t want to give. Considering his abilities, most people who know what he is call him the Storyteller.”
“That seems more confusing than helpful.”
“Wait until you meet him. You’ll understand. Play his game or you will get nowhere at all.”
“I should find my brother.”
“That would be a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just know that Painter and Storyteller don’t get along.”
“Fine. Can you show me the portal to get to Storyteller?”
She laughed. “That’s the caster way. My portals are much better. It means you have to go through the Mirror Realm, which is full of danger and mirrors. My cat will lead you to the right one. The others can send you all over the universe, so be careful. Also, if you fall asleep in the Mirror Realm, you will be lost forever, and your reflection will be taken from you. You will be able to watch people, move some things, and make noise, but they won’t be able to hear or see you.”
“That sounds way more dangerous than just using a caster portal.”
She grinned. “That’s why it’s fun.” She stood and waved her hand. A full-length mirror appeared. “Call my name if you need me. I might answer.”
“How do I get back?”
“You have your portal ring. Since the Mirror Realm isn’t considered a place, your ring should transport you back here.”
“How do you know about it?”
“I’m friends with all the Guardians, including Rilryn of Dayo.”
“I really think I should let someone know where I am.”
She waved her hand again and the mirror’s surface turned black. “Don’t you trust me?”
“No.”
“Good. You’re going to do it anyway because Storyteller has the answers you seek. Have fun.”
Reluctantly, I approached the mirror. I figured if I needed to, I could make a portal to get back to Syndrial or I could even write myself home. “By the way, who are you?”
“My name is Alice.”
* * *
Stepping through the mirror was like stepping through a membrane of water; it was nearly imperceptible. It was also similar in the way that the air on the other side was frigid and heavy. It was night and the ground was covered in snow. The cold was so abrasive it instantly sucked away my body heat. I clutched my robe around me and shivered.
There was something very creepy about it. Even the trees looked sinister. Strangely, objects like jewelry and children’s toys littered the ground. Most of it looked ancient. Before I could take more than a couple steps, I heard a crunching sound behind me. Something was stalking me. I turned and saw four massive paw prints. A moment later, another formed about five feet away diagonally.
If I wasn’t as much a geek as I was, I would have assumed it was a monster. However, I had played many games, watched many movies, and read many stories. I knew that when it came to gods, things were never black and white. Also, I was a bit of a nerd and was pretty well versed in identifying paw prints.
“Here, kitty, kitty. Alice said you’d help me find someone.” The prints were similar to a large cat’s. On the other hand, if I was wrong, I was go
ing to die soon, so it didn’t really matter.
Then the cat became visible, appearing like a certain fairytale cat I didn’t want to think about. The cat was all black, five feet tall, and heavier built than a jaguar, with saber fangs and two black, leathery wings.
“I’m looking for the Storyteller. Can you lead me to him?” I asked. The cat advanced until he was right in front of me and then sniffed me. “I really hope I don’t smell like dog.”
He turned and walked away. With few options, I followed him. We passed so many mirrors that I was starting to doubt the decision to do this. I could see through most of them, and the majority led to homes. I tried not to look into them.
It was strange enough to learn that I was a caster of Syndrial. Understanding that my brother grew up on yet another world was going to take time. Alice, her mirror world, and her black, winged smilodon was a little too much too fast to process. I wondered what might have been in that underground city water.
Then again, the icy mirror land sure beat Hell. At least it did at first.
After twenty minutes of wandering, I was getting discouraged. It was like the cold was sucking away everything positive.
Finally, the cat stopped in front of a short, wide mirror, through which I could clearly see the saloon of a black and white western. “I really hope that’s a movie set.” The cat sat and stared at me expectantly. “Cosplay?” I asked.
The cat grinned.
“Luca is going to be pissed.”
With one massive paw, the cat reached out and pushed me through the mirror.
* * *
I didn’t expect to break glass on the way through, but I also hadn’t realized the mirror was above many shelves of liquor. As I hit the ground, multiple bottles landed on me. Some of them shattered. After a few minutes in which I didn’t bleed out, I climbed carefully to my feet. I was covered in whiskey.
The reluctant traveler was fortunate not to be mortally wounded by broken glass, for that would have lost Mr. Charcoal the bet he had with Ms. Silver.
I looked around, hoping to see someone with an out-of-place speaker phone, because the voice that had filled the room was not made by a regular person. It sounded like a western show narrator; halfway between bored and amused.
While Writer contemplated his situation, the citizens of the town were contemplating him.
“Most people lose their color immediately upon arrival.”
The bartender explained.
That was when I realized exactly why people called him the Storyteller. The setting was a stereotypical western saloon, complete with saloon doors and way too much dust on everything. Excessive windows let in bright sunlight. The chairs, tables, and walls were all wood, all in poor shape.
The bartender was middle-aged, thin, with dark hair and light eyes. He looked unsurprised, as if strangers had entered his saloon through the mirror many times. The rest of the townspeople appeared to be a little more nervous, which made me less nervous. The eight men and three women were all dressed in standard old-western clothes, including jeans, hats, vests, and boots for the men and frilly dresses with boots for the women.
“He likes newcomers,” the bartender explained. “He likes revealing their most embarrassing secrets. It keeps things fresh.”
Mr. Charcoal said, hoping to---
“Do a lot of people come here?” I asked, cutting the Storyteller off intentionally.
Charcoal’s eyes widened with shock, but he answered me. “Only those looking for the voice. Oh, and a group a while back looking for a sorcerer.”
Contrary to his---
“Does the color freak you out?” I asked, blatantly interrupting the voice again.
The bartender hesitated. “You do hear the voice, right?”
The Writer did hear a voice, but he thought that if he ignored it, his imaginary enemy would be forced to give information about himself.
“A him? You’re male, then.” I already knew that, but whatever.
The Writer accused of the air. Then he thought about coffee, because addiction was an easily exploitable flaw.
“I’m not addicted to coffee.”
The Writer lied. Even as he denied it, he desperately wanted to reach into his pockets, pull out the edible coffee, and eat it.
Storyteller had a point. I did want coffee, but it wasn’t exploitable.
Writer rationalized it in his mind, but he knew the truth. Anything was exploitable. Yet he didn’t realize how easy it was for someone to poison something and then put it back in his pocket while he was sleeping.
“Excuse me? I’m not addicted, I just like the taste.”
Writer lied again.
“Fine.” I reached into my pockets and pulled out the remaining packets of Brew-Chews. “Kitmas,” I said, turning my hands over. As the foil-wrapped squares fell, they caught fire. It was more difficult than I wanted to admit.
Writer doubted himself, but he had made the right choice.
“I’ve made it a long time without and I can do it again.” Maybe I can have a cup to celebrate when I get done. “The reason I came is to ask about Maori. Alice says you might be able to help me.”
There was no answer.
The reason I wrote crime fiction was because I was fascinated with motive. Part of the Storyteller’s advantage was that no one could figure him out. That made me want to even more.
Writer was eager for the answers to all of his questions, yet he couldn’t figure out what those questions were.
“I need to know about Maori.”
Writer said ignorantly.
“How was that ignorant?” Again, there was no answer. “I seriously don’t have time to waste. My brother is expecting me.”
Writer complained, despite having willingly left his brother alone after stripping poor Painter of magic.
“Why won’t you just tell me what I need to know so I can leave?”
Writer pleaded with the air.
“He’ll never acknowledge himself,” the bartender said. “He used to be annoying, but now he’s usually pretty rude.”
“Did something happen?”
“Not really. There was a dragon attack. Like you, the dragon was colored.”
“That actually sounds racist. Has it always been black and white here?”
“Since the voice arrived. We think he made it so.”
Does the Storyteller have that kind of magic? If so, does that mean it doesn’t work on me?
What the bartender didn’t know was that the world’s color had been stripped and absorbed into magic paint, which was stolen by the Painter’s servant.
That left more holes than it filled, but it also made sense; Painter never told me how he got his magic paint. “I bet whoever created it would want it back.”
Nathan guessed correctly.
“Why would someone take away the color?”
Nathan asked the air.
I rolled my eyes. “I take it you won’t help me unless I return your paint to you?”
Nathan continued speaking to the air, despite already knowing the answer.
I rolled my eyes. He didn’t like questions. “I really hope I don’t have to deal with you again,” I said. “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”
I had not picked the activation phrase. The wizard who’d created it apparently loved Earth culture and had a sense of humor. Or a lack of humiliation. I could say the phrase in any language, but I’d never used it before, so I hadn’t bothered to learn it in something no one could understand. As long as I was wearing it at the time I went from one world to another, the ring could transport me back to the last time and place I had been.
My excursion had been a waste of time. All I learned was that my Brew-Chews could possibly be poisoned in the future, and Storyteller didn’t consider himself part of his own story.
Suddenly, without a flash of light or portal, I was standing in the library with Alice.
* * *
&
nbsp; “That was quick.”
“He didn’t help me at all.”
“Oh, he will.”
“When?”
“When doesn’t matter. The time will come and you will know.”
“How was I able to understand the bartender? Surely he wasn’t a native to Syndrial.”
“I doubt the Storyteller has the patience to deal with language barriers. The library your brother is in isn’t far. Take a left out of this room, head to the end of the hall, where there will be a fork. Take your first right and the library is the second door on the right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tea party to get to.”
I opened my mouth to thank her, but with a flash of light, she was gone.
I followed her directions and found my brother easily. Just as I had suspected, Luca was asleep on the floor with books piled around him. I knocked over a couple of books trying to reach him and his head popped up like a jack-in-the-box.
“What? I’m up.” He took in the library and remembered where we were. “I didn’t find anything on Maori.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have months to search the libraries. Kailo is awake. We should go find the sand people so I can get prepared for battle.”
Luca nodded and I helped him up.
“Also, I met a girl.”
“Keira’s gonna kill you.”
“No, I mean an actual little girl.”
“That makes it illegal.”
I sighed. “Would you shut up? I was looking for you, got lost, and ran into her. She is apparently a goddess, although she’s only twelve… I think. Anyway, she sent me to another world, where I talked to a caster called the Storyteller.”
He frowned deeply. “Dude, I think you need sleep more than I do. It sounds like a wild dream.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Okay.” We left the library and Luca led. “Can you remember the portal?”
“She didn’t use a portal.”
“Then it was definitely a dream. You can’t get to another world without a portal.”
He was so certain that I started to wonder.
