Chasm

by Michael Joel Green

  Daniel snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. It was the pizza, wasn’t it? That’s why it tasted so terrible. You put some drug in there that made me see things. You figured you’d get me seeing weird visions then do the costume change. And you did it in front of the fire, which made it even more dramatic.” Daniel clapped his hands. “That’s pretty impressive, Alistair. I’ll give you that much.”

  Alistair took a kerchief from his pocket and wiped some mud from the back of Daniel’s neck. “Perhaps I am crazy, as you suggest. Or perhaps I’ve been telling the truth. Either way, you will find out soon enough.” Alistair stepped onto the porch. “In the meantime, if you are finished with the rooftop acrobatics, breakfast is being served in the kitchen.” Alistair held out his arm as Daniel walked past.

  “I’ll take my robe back, please.”

  Daniel sat at the table while Alistair brought out the food. He gave him credit, Alistair knew how to fill a table with food—lots of it. There were fruit spreads and cakes, a berry cobbler, and a tray of different nuts. In a pitcher was some juice Daniel couldn’t identify, but it was delicious—a little sweeter than apple juice, not as sweet as pineapple—and Daniel polished off three glassfuls before Alistair brought out the main course.

  “Did you sleep well last night?” Alistair said. He carried a thick-crusted shepherd’s pie with melted cheese oozing over the sides of the dish, and Daniel’s mouth began to water looking at it.

  “I don’t think I slept hardly at all,” Daniel said and hungrily scooped a spoonful onto his plate. “And if I did, I sure couldn’t tell. My thoughts and my dreams were so much alike it was hard to know which was sleep and which was awake.” He quit talking long enough to take a huge bite of the shepherd’s pie. “Oh, my gosh. This is awesome.” Daniel shoved another bite into his mouth. “I can’t believe you’re the same cook who almost killed me last night.”

  Alistair took a sip of juice. “Well, I was working in unfamiliar territory—pizza from your world. All I had were the images in your head.” He noticed the confused look on Daniel’s face. “Take yourself, for example. You’ve suddenly found yourself in a new world, with customs and routines that strike you as odd. Imagine returning to your world and trying to describe to someone what you’ve seen here, but you can only use words. You can’t bring a sample of our berries to give that person, or a pocketful of the pebbles you found in the stream. Could you describe your experience with enough richness of detail that the person gained a sense of what it was really like—the sights and sounds and smells?”

  Alistair took out a pipe from his pocket and stuffed it with tobacco. “It’s not an easy task. As I’m a stranger to your world and its interests and tastes, you are a stranger to mine.”

  “I guess I never thought about it that way,” said Daniel. “It makes sense, though. It’s like when I was trying to convince my mom to let me have my own room. I could tell her until I was blue in the face how annoying Josh was, keeping me up all night with his questions about superheroes, but she hadn’t experienced it like I had.” Daniel shoved a potato in his mouth and washed it down with the juice. “Trust me, if she had to experience what I did, she might have given me the whole downstairs as a reward for putting up with him as long as I did.”

  Alistair grinned and blew a smoke ring. The smell of tobacco filled the air.

  “All right,” said Daniel, his face perking up. “I’ve got a question for you. What was the blue light I came through? Do you have any idea?”

  “Why don’t you describe it to me? And leave nothing out, no matter how small the detail.”

  “Why? All you have to do is that jigsaw thing and you can find out for yourself. Heck, I’ll even let you if it means finding out what the blue light was.”

  “Because I want you to rely on your words. Go ahead. Describe it using your power of speech.” Alistair’s eyes twinkled. “Tell me about the light.”

  Daniel took a deep breath and began explaining everything that happened—everything that happened. Following Alistair’s advice, he recounted every detail, no matter how small, from the waterfall in his dream to the earthquake in the mausoleum. He was surprised how much he was talking but couldn’t stop. He needed to tell someone and this seemed like the appropriate person and appropriate circumstance. Daniel must have talked for an hour and, once finished, stiffened his shoulders and took a drink of juice. “There,” he said. “You asked for it, you got it. Now it’s your turn, professor. Do your shrink routine and tell me what it all means.”

  Alistair reclined in his chair, hesitating before speaking. “It’s the question that has puzzled me for days.” He took a long draw from the pipe. “But if my suspicions are correct, and I’m fairly certain they are, then you are the first person to walk through that light in nearly seven hundred years.”

  Seven hundred years? Daniel cursed himself for being so gullible. One lousy moment of weakness and the next thing he knew he’d babbled on like a parrot—and to a stranger, no less. Of all the people to share his most trusted secrets with, he’d picked a crazy man.

  Alistair rose and cleared the table. He returned long enough to re-stuff his pipe. He looked around for a match but didn’t see one. “No matter,” he said, shaping his fingers like a bowl. He blew gently into his hands and, from out of nowhere, a flame appeared. Lighting his pipe, he turned to Daniel. “Follow me. I have something to show you.” He disappeared from the room.

  The trick with the flame caught Daniel by surprise—and frustrated him. Every time he was ready to write Alistair off as a nut, he did something cool like that. Daniel didn’t know if he wanted to follow or not. He wasn’t sure he was ready for any more of Alistair’s tricks. Then again, Alistair had aroused his curiosity. There was no telling what he'd do next, and Daniel didn’t want to miss out if it was something really cool. He waffled for a few minutes before finally leaving his chair.

  Daniel stepped into the main room. He looked around but the room was empty. That’s weird, he thought. Where did he disappear to? “Alistair!” he called but got no response. “This isn’t funny, Alistair. Where’d you go?”

  “Out here,” a voice answered. “Out the back door.”

  Daniel did a double take. Was that here all along? How did I not see that? Daniel opened the door and stepped into an ocean of blue light, for as far as the eye could see.

  His first instinct was to panic. Seeing the light brought back memories Daniel was trying to forget. But he heard Alistair’s voice, calling from somewhere in the distance, and it put his mind at ease. He was certain he was in no danger this time, and in fact, he realized, it was possible Alistair was taking him home. Once he got clear of the blue light, he’d be back in Grisby and everything would go back to normal—the way it used to be.

  As Daniel made his way through the light, it was a weird mix of emotions for him to experience. He was glad to finally be going home but surprised to find himself a little disappointed. This had become sort of a vacation and part of him was sad he couldn’t stay longer. He was visiting a new world and wanted to explore it a little more. Besides, he had school the next day, and who would want to go back to that?

  Normally, this would be a perfect opportunity for Daniel to say something like, “If I can milk my absence for another couple of days, I’ll really get Mom’s sympathy. She might even revoke my grounding.” But he didn’t feel like joking at the moment, so he kept quiet and followed Alistair’s voice through the light.

  ***

  Alistair stood at the cliff’s edge, looking out over the ocean. The waves broke in rhythm against the shore and Daniel realized, even though it didn’t look the same, he would know this place anywhere. “This used to be your home many, many years ago,” said Alistair, motioning for Daniel to join him.

  In the distance, some gulls cried, while the moon cast its shadow over the sea. Daniel breathed deeply and took in the smell of the ocean air. Though he grew up here, he’d never taken it for granted—the sea and sand, all of its grandeu
r.

  “This is first time I’ve seen the ocean,” Alistair said. “I’ve read about it, heard stories about it. But seeing it with my own eyes, I understand its power. I can see why he was drawn to it.”

  “Who?” Daniel asked. “Why who was drawn to it?”

  “Illian.”

  “Illian? You actually know that name? You know who Illian was?”

  “Of course, I know who he was. It was over him, and his death, that the battle was begun.”

  Several moments passed in silence. Alistair allowed the scenery to fill his senses, while Daniel came to grips with what he’d heard. Alistair was first to speak.

  “The blue light you saw was once an ancient portal, so ancient no one knows when it was created or who created it. Some say it has always been. Whatever the case, the portal served as a doorway between our worlds. Magicals and men came and went as they pleased.” Alistair watched a wave come upon the shore. He let his arms fall to his side. “Where did I leave off last night?”

  “The last thing you told me was about the shovel floating through the air and Meruzilak disappearing and no one ever seeing him again.”

  Alistair nodded. “As I said, perhaps our greatest mistake was the assumption that Meruzilak was dead, or that he was harmless. Man and Magical alike, we share a common trait. We underestimate those who can do us the most harm. As a result, we rarely see danger until it comes upon us. By then, it is often too late.

  “After his parents were killed, Meruzilak disappeared into hiding. Centuries passed and mention of his name became rare. If it was spoken, it was regarded as folklore. As my ancestors grew older, they grew lazy. They allowed Meruzilak to become nothing more than an afterthought. What no one knew was that Meruzilak was strengthening his magic while in hiding. His plot for revenge demanded secrecy, and we afforded it to him.

  “You see, Daniel, I asked you to describe your experiences in words because history has always been communicated by words. However, memory can grow distant. We start to forget, until it becomes nothing more than an itch at the corner of our minds.

  “There were a few who didn’t forget, Magicals who sought to preserve the legacy of their ancestors and were ready to fight to uphold their convictions. Illian was one of these Magicals, along with his sister, Illiana. Aside from Meruzilak, they were the most powerful wizards in the land. They were also Meruzilak’s greatest threat.”

  Daniel stood spellbound. Was Alistair making this stuff up on the fly? Was he that good of a storyteller that he could use the names Daniel gave him at breakfast and invent a story like this? Daniel didn’t think so and kept listening.

  “Illian didn’t believe Meruzilak was dead. In fact, he mistrusted all accounts of his whereabouts. He foresaw Meruzilak being driven by a quest for vengeance and knew he must stop him before he became too powerful. His plan was dangerous, which is why he kept it secret from Illiana and went to search for Meruzilak on his own.”

  Alistair paused. His blue eyes stared reflectively at an unknown point in the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more resigned. “History doesn’t always have a happy ending. Sometimes our best intentions play right into the hands of our enemies. Illian found Meruzilak, but when he did, he found a wizard at the apex of his powers. Centuries of training and a lifetime of hatred had allowed him to become more powerful than anyone imagined. Illian fought well, but Meruzilak’s magic proved too strong.

  “When Illiana realized what Illian had done, she and her closest friends, Sebastian and Cornelius, journeyed to find him. Unfortunately, they found him too late. All Illiana could do was watch as her brother died by Meruzilak’s hands.”

  Daniel felt a lump in his throat, remembering the encounter on the bluff. It was no wonder she looked sad. For a story that started so well, this one was getting worse by the second and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more.

  “It was the most difficult thing Illiana had ever done—letting her brother’s killer go free—but she had no choice. Without Illian, they were powerless to defeat Meruzilak, so they gathered Illian’s body and departed. They decided it fitting to bury him near the place he loved best, the ocean, so they took his body through the portal. Little did they know it was for the last time.”

  Alistair motioned for Daniel to turn around, which he did. The blue light was no longer there, simply the land around the bluff Daniel had seen a hundred times before.

  “There are similarities, Daniel, between our world and yours—blind assumptions, an arrogance that comes with power, the desire to crush anyone who threatens that power. These are traits present in man and Magical, though worlds apart.

  “Meruzilak watched the visitors leave. Through his crystals, he saw them escape through the portal. His plan had been to murder them separately, so as to not invite suspicion. But now, Meruzilak realized that rather than killing them, he could exact a more painful vengeance. He’d make them spend the rest of their lives on earth, forever separated from their homes and families. He cast a spell over the portal, sealing it shut and making it invisible, preventing anyone from ever finding it again. With the portal closed, they could never return. It was his first revenge.”

  Alistair turned his eyes to Daniel. “What you see is a shadow of a forgotten age, a window to a distant past. Take a look at your home as it used to be. Listen to the voices of your ancestors. Hear what they have to say.” Alistair waved his arm and everything went black. The next thing Daniel knew he was back in the living room, sitting on the couch by the fire.

  He was about to complain, about to scoff at what he’d seen. It was surely a hallucination brought on by the berry cobbler. Daniel was getting ready to tell Alistair off for good when Alistair put a hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Never forget what I’ve told you. Keep it close. Protect it throughout your lifetime.”

  Daniel turned to look but Alistair was gone. He had vanished.

  Chapter 24

  Joshua’s Ascent

  They didn’t come. No one came—not the good guys, not the bad guys, not anyone. Joshua screamed until his voice gave out, but to no avail. If anyone heard him, it was painfully obvious that person didn’t care about a boy being kept in a cave.

  The light on his watch was also growing dim; it was a matter of time before it quit altogether. He could keep it turned on, burning the battery until it was dead, or use it sparingly, which meant many hours spent in darkness. Neither option sounded good. Joshua lay down and switched off the light. He wrapped his arms around himself and shut his eyes, but he wasn’t trying to sleep. He was trying to block out the awareness of his new home, which he hated with everything in him.

  ***

  Staggor waited until he was certain the boy was asleep and went to check the hallway for footsteps. Hearing nothing, he returned to the mouth of the cave and climbed over. He descended the wall with ease, zigzagging across its surface, not unlike a lizard making its way across a mountainside. The last several feet, he jumped to the floor, landing on the iron grate without making a sound.

  As quietly as he’d come, Staggor retrieved the food sack. The boy, once again, had eaten the berries and bread. Staggor stepped barefoot across the floor and stood at Joshua’s side. His face betrayed no emotion as he watched the boy sleep.

  Standing over the boy, his presence cast an ominous tone. His feet were clawed and scaly and looked to be tougher than tree bark. His legs were muscular and thick, and he wore tattered brown pants with no pockets, tied at the waist with a black rope. There was a severe curvature at the spine that he covered with a loose-fitting charcoal shirt. His fingers were stubby, with thick nails.

  In the darkness, these features would be easy to miss. Perhaps the lone identifiable feature would be Staggor’s eyes, which glowed reddish-yellow. Other than that, an average person might mistake him for a normal, hunchbacked man. Doubtful he’d notice Staggor’s thick-ridged tail, which hung to the ground behind his legs. A half-human, half-reptile, cursed to a life of shadows.
Staggor watched Joshua for a moment longer then took his place on the wall.

  Staggor climbed swiftly, as one whose job was done, wasting little movement and never overextending his reach, holding the burlap sack in his hand as he climbed. Staggor was born for this type of world, born to mount surfaces normal humans couldn’t, born immune from clumsiness and growing cold, born to move as one invisible and unheard. A life of secrecy, and a life alone.

  Staggor ascended to the top and was pulling himself over the edge when he realized he’d made a severe mistake in thinking he was alone. Ralmaghar stood in front of him, his eyes burning a hole through Staggor’s. Staggor hid the sack of food behind his back, a look of dread evident on his face.

  “What were you doing?” Ralmaghar asked.

  N-n-nothing,” Staggor answered. “I was checking on the prisoner.”

  Ralmaghar remained silent. His eyes accused without the assistance of words. “Bring up the boy,” he spoke.

  ***

  Joshua heard the man climb into his cell but was too afraid to open his eyes. Instead, he pretended to be asleep. It wasn’t easy. The man stood there forever, breathing over him in hissing tones. When everything inside him wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, Joshua kept quiet. While his skin felt like caterpillars crawling, he remained still.

  Though every second here had felt like torture, Joshua had grown used to this place. It wasn’t that he’d choose to stay, not a chance—should someone open a trap door and beckon him to follow, Joshua would jump through without a second’s hesitation—but the reality was nothing bad had happened to him. With the exception of his food messenger, he’d seen no bad guys; he hadn’t been tortured; and though he feared it was to fatten him up, he’d been fed regularly enough to avoid starving. It was in his mind that he’d been attacked by deadly spiders. His fear was over what was to come, what they were going to do to him—a fear of the unknown.