He hadn't needed to know that.
Even the floating rocks didn't trouble him as much as that sky.
The plains gradually gave way to a deep, twisted forest of dead, black trees that somehow seemed to writhe even when there was no wind. They camped in a ruined tower that night, taking turns standing watch. Nothing approached their campfire, but they could see eyes glinting back in the darkness, sometimes uncomfortably high off the ground.
"We need to make a decision about supplies," Gillian told them the next morning. "We have maybe a day's worth of food left. Do we push on and try to find Simone, or take a slight detour and try to buy food in a town?"
"There are towns here?" asked Raven.
"Yes. They aren't close, though."
"Do we have anything to get food with?" Harrison asked. "I don't have anything, unless we could barter or maybe work for it."
"I have a sack of gold coins in my pack," said Gillian. "I carry them for situations like this. I've traveled a lot, remember? Gold is almost always welcome, anywhere you go."
"I'm glad you were prepared." Harrison stood and stretched. "I, for one, like to eat. So maybe we should resupply before we go on."
"I was also thinking we might want to acquire some swords," Gillian said. "In case we run out of ammunition."
"Swords, huh?"
"Well, they have the benefit of working everywhere and not requiring ammunition."
"Any objections?" Harrison asked.
"I would like to see these towns," said Anton.
Raven just shook his head and stood up. "Far be it from me to disagree with everyone else."
Harrison was beginning to detect the slight flicker when they moved from Realm to Realm. It took them most of the afternoon and a dozen transitions to find a town. They smelled the town before it came into sight; the smell was like a cross between a sewage plant and a dairy farm.
The town was a dark place surrounded by a stockade. The guards were suspicious and spoke a language that no one but Gillian understood. A discreet gold coin in the palm of each guard got them through the gate and into the town. It was grim and depressing inside, as expected of any place where the sun literally never shone.
The streets were muddy and clogged with human and animal waste. Even being careful, they stepped in things that squished under their boots and made them feel dirty all over. The townspeople they saw were pale and gaunt. Dangerous-looking types lurked in the alleys. Wagons drawn by shaggy horses sometimes wheeled by, splashing the mud and malodorous waste everywhere.
"Lovely place, this," Harrison commented.
"The locals imaginatively call it Darkton," said Gillian. "This is rather typical for these parts."
"What language were you speaking?" asked Raven.
"Thari. It's sort of the lingua franca of the Southern Realms."
"Good thing you know it."
Gillian smiled. "It's my native language."
"Of course it is," Raven muttered.
"So, Gillian," Harrison said, wanting to forestall another argument between those two, "you're sure we can find food here?"
"Yes, and lodging for the night, as well. I thought I'd head for the swordsmith first, though. We need to be armed in a fashion these people understand, or we're going to be attacked by every thug in sight once it gets dark."
"It gets darker than this? How does that work, with no sun?"
"It clouds over every night and rains."
"Of course it does," Raven said. Harrison gave him a quelling look.
Eventually, Harrison heard the tink of a hammer against metal, and the smith came into sight. Thick black smoke billowed from the forge, and the air was full of the acrid smell of burning coal. Through the open wall of the building, they could see racks of weapons.
"This looks like the right place."
"Pick your weapons and bring them over to the smith, and I'll settle up," said Gillian.
Harrison thought about taking an axe – he'd chopped a lot of wood in his life – but he suspected chopping people was a different kind of skill. He settled on a wide-bladed sword that looked like an oversized machete, something he vaguely remembered was called a falchion. The grip fit his hand well, and it had good balance. The sheath was simple but effective.
When he walked over to Gillian, he noticed that she'd selected a cutlass. Raven had a short sword. Anton looked as if he was troubled about something.
"Something the matter?" Harrison asked.
"I don't carry weapons, because I don't take life. I am a doctor, not a butcher."
"What about monsters?"
"Monsters?"
"Gillian said there were dangerous creatures in the Southern Realms. A pack of wolves doesn't care if you don't want to hurt them; they'll still bite you."
Anton sighed and picked up a large axe. "I will carry this, then, but I do not like it."
Harrison slapped him on the shoulder and went back over to Gillian. She was haggling with the smith, who kept shaking his head. They went back and forth for a while, and then Gillian finally produced a small stack of coins and slapped them down on the counter.
As they left, Harrison asked her if she was upset.
"Hmm? No, why?"
"You looked like you got a raw deal back there."
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Are you kidding? Seventeen gold for all of that? It was a steal, but the first rule of haggling is to never let them think you liked the deal you got. Otherwise they'll charge you more the next time."
"You never cease to amaze me," Harrison said.
"Good."
Chapter Fifty-Two
Harrison had the strangest feeling that he knew the town, and then he decided that it was because the town reminded him a bit of Bree, from the Fellowship of the Ring movie. There weren't any hobbits here, just a lot of dirty and miserable-looking people. He couldn't help but shudder when he thought of the Ringwraiths. He'd never gotten an adequate explanation of monster from Gillian.
Gillian haggled with the thin innkeeper and finally got them a room for the night. "We'll all have to share a room," she apologized. "The inn is mostly full."
"Well, at least we're out of the rain," said Harrison. He didn't smell all that great himself, but the smell in the inn was so foul that he was having trouble keeping from being ill. Unwashed people, alcohol, urine, feces, vomit, and vaguely threatening food smells combined to be truly overwhelming. He hoped their room smelled better.
Their room was upstairs and almost pleasant, at least by comparison. A coal stove provided heat, and the acrid smell seemed to drive out the other odors from the rest of the inn. An oil lamp provided meager light.
"I'd be happy if I could just take a bath and wash my clothes," Harrison said.
"The innkeeper is having fresh water heated and brought up. The bath is at the end of the hall. It should be safe enough. Take your sword with you, though, or maybe we should post guards in shifts."
"This place really that bad?"
"I don't know, but I don't want to find out the hard way."
Harrison nodded. "Is there more than one tub, or do we take turns?"
"I'll check."
Harrison settled against the wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor. This whole journey had been totally unlike anything he had ever experienced before. No surprise, really, considering... well, alternate universes. He'd been on long-term missions behind enemy lines, of course. He'd even been cut off from reinforcements or rescue, but this was different. Here, he was completely isolated from everything he had ever known. It wasn't nearly as refreshing as he might have imagined it. He probably wouldn't have felt so bad if he'd known for sure that he could get home.
Raven settled down against the wall next to him with a sigh.
"Gillian says she thinks she knows where Simone will be," said Harrison. "She says she might not even have been there for long."
"How is that even possible?" Raven asked. "I was on that island for three years.
"
"Time moves at different rates in different places," Gillian said, coming back into the room.
"Is true, friend Raven," Anton added. "You were only gone three weeks from the JRC. Simone had left only a few days before you arrived."
"So you're saying that from her perspective, it may have been only a few days since we last saw each other?" asked Raven.
"It is a possibility."
That seemed to please Raven.
"How is the bath situation?" Harrison said.
"Just one tub. They're bringing up hot water now."
"So do we draw straws or just roshambo?"
"Roshambo?'
"Rock, paper, scissors," Harrison replied. At her blank look, he added, "You never played it?" He made the hand gestures.
"I know this," Anton said.
Raven and Gillian both shook their heads.
"Seriously? That is so weird. I thought everybody knew it."
"So who wants to go first? Or do we play this game?" Gillian asked.
"To be honest, I don't care if I go first or last," said Harrison, "as long as I get to bathe and wash my clothes."
They all just looked at each other.
"Well, if no one is going to jump up, then I'll go first," Gillian said.
Harrison struggled to his feet. "I'll guard the door for you."
"Thank you, darling."
Raven looked as if he'd fallen asleep against the wall.
"I think I will shake out sheets," Anton said.
"Oh, here, burn this," Gillian said. She handed him a short, dark candle. "It has herbs which will drive away the little critters. I'd still shake the sheets out the window, but wave them over this before and after."
"Many thanks."
Harrison followed Gillian down the hall and settled against the doorframe to the bathroom.
"You don't have to wait out here, you know."
He smiled and followed her into the room, closing the door behind him. "I'm way too filthy and exhausted to do anything," he said.
She laughed softly. "I just thought you'd be more comfortable in here."
He slid down the door and settled against it. Anyone trying to come in would have to push the door open against his weight. That would have to do.
Gillian stripped and bathed hurriedly. Tired as he was, he couldn't help but admire her naked body while she bathed. He didn't even realize he'd dozed off until she shook him awake.
"Michael, wake up. They brought more water."
He pushed himself up off the floor. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Some guard I am."
He watched as the servants drained the tub and refilled it.
"Don't worry about it," Gillian said. She shooed the servants out and shut the door. "Would you like help getting undressed?"
He nodded weakly. He knew it was just fatigue, stress, and his injuries wearing him down. He wanted to be home at his cabin in the woods so badly it hurt. I guess that's why they call it homesickness, he thought.
Gillian helped him undress and get settled into the warm water. The soap was harsh, but it felt good to be clean, so he didn't care. After he was finished, she toweled him dry and helped him to a chair. He was so tired that he didn't even complain when she washed his clothes for him, leaving briefly to take them to the room, before returning to help him back, where he fell into the wide bed and didn't awaken for a long time.
Chapter Fifty-Three
The overnight rain had washed most of the filth from the streets. Harrison's clothes were still slightly damp, but his socks and underwear were dry, and as long as he had dry feet, he was fine. He felt a little ashamed for passing out, but he felt better for the rest. He'd slept almost twelve hours. He'd awoken to find Raven in bed next to him, which wouldn't have been his first choice, by any means, but it made sense. They were the only ones who were wounded.
Gillian had restocked their supplies that morning, and it felt good to be moving again. That monochrome town had been too depressing for him. He'd visited some pretty miserable places in service to his country, but that town was one of the worst. The dark forest wasn't much better, but at least he didn't have to see people suffering. It wasn't that he'd seen the soldiers oppressing anyone or anything like that. It was something he couldn't put his finger on; something about that town bothered him more than it should have.
"You say these worlds are vassal states of your government?" Harrison said to Gillian as they walked.
"Most if not all of the Black Realms are, yes. Why?"
"I was wondering why they don't do something for the social welfare of these people."
"I'm not sure I understand." Gillian stopped walking and turned to search his face. "What's this about?"
"What do you mean by vassal state?" Harrison asked.
"They provide taxes, usually in the form of tangible goods and recruits for our military."
"And what do they get in return?"
"Protection."
"Sounds like the Mob to me," Raven said as he walked by.
"Protection from whom?" said Harrison. "There's nothing out here."
"I'm not sure, Michael. I have served neither in the military nor in the government. I don't understand what it is that's bothering you."
"The fact that you have a military suggests that your people consider someone a threat."
She furrowed her brow in thought. "I suppose so. I've never thought about it."
"I take it your government isn't real big on sharing information."
"What government is?" she replied. "Did your own government disclose the details of the war you were waging to the public."
"Of course not."
"Well?"
Harrison shrugged uncomfortably. She had a point. He wanted to see something sinister in the actions of her government, but why? Is it because of what I saw back there? Parts of America are every bit as impoverished. Am I angry because of how much it reminds me of those areas back home? Am I angry because I know my own government caters more to the rich than to those who actually need help? How many times have I seen veterans living out on the streets?
"I'm sorry," he said. "I just got a little worked up over the poverty I saw back there. I think it struck a nerve. How long before we get to where we're going?"
"We'll get there by this afternoon, I think. It's hard to say. I've never been there."
"We aren't going to end up in your Courts, are we?" he teased as they began walking again.
"No, I stopped taking us south at the town. We're headed west now."
"How can you possibly navigate with no sun or stars?"
Gillian shrugged. "I know the Om-phalos is to the south, so I just keep the feeling of it on my left to go west."
"I suppose that makes sense. As much as any of this does, anyway."
Oppressive silence followed them throughout the day. The forest looked as if the rainforests of the Pacific Northwest had been smothered under clouds for decades. The trees stood thick and black, the smell of rotting leaves overwhelming. The lurid red sky cast an evil light over all of it. Harrison found it difficult to stay positive, looking out over that dead-seeming forest.
"How far do we have to go through this?" he asked.
"Hard to say," Gillian answered. She appeared distracted by something.
"What's going on?"
"Hmm?"
"You keep looking to your left."
"I'm worried that we're being tracked."
Harrison glanced in that direction but didn't see any movement. "You sure?"
"If I was sure, I would have said something."
Harrison walked in silence through the dismal forest until a distant howl caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. His hand dropped to his pistol as he turned, but Gillian grabbed his arm and began urging everyone to move faster.
"I'll try to shift us away, but I'm afraid they'll able to follow us," she said.
"What is it? Wolves?"
"I wish," Gillian replied. "Hellhounds."
"Do you see me laughing? Run!"
They ran.
Harrison could sense the changes as she moved through the veils, the faint flickers and subtle shifts in the landscape, but the howls kept drawing closer.
"I can't shift us any further without moving us away from where we want to go. I don't think it would do any good anyway. I think they can follow us."
Harrison turned and knelt, bracing his rifle and seeking targets. The road behind them was cloaked in a mist they hadn't walked through. He didn't have much ammunition left and needed to make each shot count.
The cadaverous hellhounds burst from the mist in a wave. There were maybe a dozen of them, and they were huge. Each hound was the size of a large Great Dane, with ice-white skin stretched taut over bone, muscle, and sinew. Their eyes burned like fiery coals. Harrison had time only for a single shot before they were upon him, flashing teeth the size of fingers.
Harrison clubbed at one hound as it slammed into him, knocking him from his feet. A part of his mind noted the high-pitched scream of Raven's slicer rifle over the din of howls, growls, and yelling. He managed to draw his sword and chopped the legs out from under a hound that was lunging at Gillian, but from that point forward, he could concentrate only on defending himself.
The fight was over almost before he knew it. The remaining hellhounds disappeared into the mist. Gillian was dispatching the wounded hounds with her sword. Anton, unwounded, was tying new bandages over Raven's leg where he'd been slashed by long teeth that had been attracted to the blood from his previous injuries.
Harrison sat down heavily in the road and concentrated on breathing. He could feel his ribs grinding with each breath. They had killed half of the hounds and could hear the others baying and howling in anger at the loss of their brethren. He hoped the hellhounds would have the sense to cut their losses and leave Harrison and his friends alone in favor of prey that didn't bite back.
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