Have Imagination, Will Travel

by Adam Carter

  “And yet it must be,” the Nagas said, any trace of his snake persona having deserted him now.

  “No!”

  Tarne’s eyes also went wide, for while she could not quite understand what her eyes were telling her, she knew at once that she recognised this man from somewhere. From somewhen. From perhaps even some other life.

  “What do you see, Sara Kiel?” the Nagas asked. “Tell me what you see behind my mask.”

  “Blackness, a void,” Kiel said. “I see ... I see nothing.”

  “And I ...” Tarne said, fighting for a name to put to what she herself saw. Finally, it came to her in a flash. “And I,” she continued in a steadier, surer tone, “see a being I have come to know. A man, or perhaps a thing, which goes by the name without a name. The man known to me as Old Man Robes.”

  And the Nagas was satisfied with the answers he had been given.

  THE END

  PAST CHAPTER

  Old Man Robes.

  Heather Tarne had seen him beneath the mask of the snake, had seen a man Sara Kiel was unable to identify, unable even to envision. For Kiel had seen only a blackness beyond words, while Tarne had seen the face of a man she had known for more years than she could remember.

  Old Man Robes.

  The name Tarne had spoken aloud within the cell while awaiting transference to the arena where the race of vipers known as the Nagas intended for her group to play a life-or-death game of stick-in-the-mud. The name she had spoken, and yet the name which none of the others seemed able to recall. The name of the man Tarne somehow knew would spell her destruction.

  Old Man Robes.

  “What are you thinking about?” Darkthorne asked as they walked through the tunnel leading towards the arena.

  “Nothing,” Tarne lied. Back in the cell, she had broached the subject of having certain names repeat themselves over and over, and Sparky and Kiel also had memories of experiencing such things. They remembered Bastelle as being the capital of the known lands of course, but it was also a form of strange glider, a whole planet and other things. The same had been true of the Princess Aurellia. The three of them had each remembered snippets of what Tarne supposed was the truth, and together she believed they would form something of a whole picture. Or at least an almost-whole picture. For there was one element still missing from the mosaic she was even now forming within her mind; one element, and one source of input.

  Jagrad Darkthorne.

  He had not remembered along with the others, or at least he had not voiced that he had remembered, and as such he was the one among them who stood aloof. He was one of them, was their leader in fact (in every reality), and yet Tarne knew somehow she could not trust him, knew that whatever the true intentions of Darkthorne, they did not bode her well.

  “You sure you’re OK?” Darkthorne asked. “I mean, if you’re not a hundred per cent, just say so and I’ll try to talk the guards into postponing our ...”

  “I’m fine,” Tarne snapped. Somehow, the thought of having to spend the next few hours in a cell with Jagrad Darkthorne did not appeal to her sanity. She could not shake the feeling he was probing for something specific and had yet to find it. Tarne had foolishly expected for Darkthorne to have been in control of everything, of this strange shifting of realities within her mind, yet he seemed as helpless to alter events as any of them. If he had wanted her in the cell again to speak with her, surely they would be back there, but instead were they marching into the arena. The worlds were not controlled by Darkthorne, therefore, they could not possibly be, yet he was far more powerful than any of them.

  Ergo, why he was their leader upon each world.

  Yes, Tarne had even begun to accept there were many different worlds. Her life had shifted so much, all of it uncontrollably, and yet now she felt as though everything was coming to a head. She could not feel her mind being torn away to somewhere else as she had previously. It was as though the doorways to the other worlds were sealed to her, as though the stories to be told within those far-reaching other realities had ended.

  Yet if these other stories had all ended, Tarne could not believe it was merely coincidence. She felt that things were changing for her, moving forward and thus sideways no longer. Darkthorne had grown tired with his long-winded plans, he had grown bored of waiting for her to ... to what? To reveal herself, perhaps. But then what would he want specifically to become revealed?

  It was still a puzzle for her, yet she knew the answers would lie only with Old Man Robes. She needed to speak with him, needed to find him first, of course. He had not escaped; no, instead he had simply never been noticed by their captors, the Nagas. Even they had been unable to see him, just as Darkthorne, Kiel and Sparky seemed oblivious to his presence, upon this or any world.

  He had tried to warn her, he had said. He had tried to warn her when he had been her landlord, when he had finally caught her alone. It was as though he knew she was in danger, but did not know from what quarter the attack would come. How could he not know, after Darkthorne had tried to kill her by dropping her from the sky?

  She blinked. When exactly had Darkthorne dropped her from the sky? She had been in her cell with the others for the past few hours, yet the memory was both fresh on her mind and yet vague over lost time. She had fallen, yet she had not died. And it had been Darkthorne who had tried to murder her.

  “I’m not so sure I like the looks of this,” Kiel noted as they reached the huge iron gates at the far end of the tunnel.

  Tarne realised that whatever was happening with regards to Darkthorne and Old Man Robes, first she would have to survive the arena. It would do her no good to worry about what might be, not while she faced death because the Nagas wanted to be entertained.

  The Nagas sentry who had brought them this far stood aside and winched up the gateway. The arena floor was far larger when seen from the ground level, and as the four combatants walked into it, they were overwhelmed. The arena itself was entirely circular, with smooth walls rising to five metres. There were several iron gates about the walls, all of which were in the lowered positions, and upon the dusty floor there appeared to be grooves indicating where ramps or trapdoors might be opened, probably to allow some nefarious beast into the arena or else to drop the prisoners through to meet their demise.

  Beyond the walls there came the seats, Nagas filling every row. The green-skinned beings were upon their feet, shouting and jeering and placing bets. The noise was tremendous, and Tarne resisted the urge to cover her ears. She looked skyward and could see there was no roof, that the entire arena was open to the air. She also caught sight of the various royal boxes scattered about the arena high above, and believed she could see where she and the others had met with Reptant and Rathbone. As a species, they were baying for her blood, for the great cod to come and swallow her whole, and she was sickened by their presence.

  “And to think,” Sparky said, his own gaze travelling skyward, his voice sounding very much in awe of everything, “we were sent here to hammer out a peace treaty with these guys.”

  “We were?” It had been so long ago that Tarne could hardly remember coming to Charrok at all, let alone why they had done so. She fought for the memories and was surprised when images of King Callum III came to her mind. Yes, they had undertaken the mission that they might win favour with the king following the incident with Madame Shalla. Tarne barely even remembered Madame Shalla, and knew the events had occurred only a handful of days ago.

  “I don’t like this,” Kiel muttered.

  “I don’t think we’re meant to,” Darkthorne said.

  Images flashed into Tarne’s mind: a series of stupid scenarios. A planet whose inhabitants had been so fearful of outsiders they had erected a shield which had only drawn attention to them ... the incident at the bridge of birds ... the entire scenario with the super hero thing ...

  A giant cod coming down to eat them if they failed in their game of stick-in-the-mud ...

  It was not normal, it was not natural,
and it was, to her mind, just downright stupid. Things like that just didn’t happen in the real world.

  “Giant cod,” she muttered.

  “Where?” Darkthorne asked fearfully, crouching and staring skyward as though he faced imminent death.

  Tarne found it odd that he so feared death. At least it meant he could die, she reasoned, although why should such a thing ever have been in doubt? “Nowhere,” she said. “I was just reflecting on the insanity of all of this. I’m surprised one of those creatures up there isn’t called Monty Python, what with all the weird things we’ve had to put up with lately.”

  “What did you say, Heather?” Darkthorne said, no longer quite so fearful, but strangely enough highly excited.

  Tarne had a sinking feeling Darkthorne had been waiting for this moment and she fought for a speedy lie. “I don’t know,” she said. “It was something Sara said to me this morning.”

  Darkthorne appeared crestfallen. “Oh,” was all he replied, and Tarne knew in that single instant her suspicions had been confirmed, that this man was indeed out to kill her. Just as soon as he figured out that it was she, and not Kiel or Sparky, whom he wanted to kill.

  There was a loud reverberating clang as the mighty portcullis slammed shut behind them.

  By this time the quartet had reached the centre of the arena, and there were no Nagas accompanying them. The crowds were jeering from the seats, but then the voice of Reptant rang out and everything else ceased. “The contest begins,” she announced without shouting, but in a tone which nevertheless carried extremely well. “The contestants are to participate in the most sacred of games. If they succeed, they shall be released. If they fail, the great cod shall decide their fate.” She paused for the roar of excitement to tear through the crowd, and then continued. “The rules are simple; if all players on one team are rendered incapacitated, the team shall lose and their opponents shall be declared the victors. Rathbone, if you would release the Guild of Adders.”

  Further cheers erupted from the crowd; a veritable chaos of excitement, and Tarne knew it did not bode well for them. Clearly this Guild of Adders was considered a mighty force amongst the Nagas. A grating sound turned her head and she saw four slender Nagas march boldly into the arena, holding their arms high and absorbing the applause of their audience. The Nagas wore thin trousers, no shirts and were entirely unarmed. Nor did they appear particularly muscular.

  “I don’t see the problem,” Tarne admitted.

  “I don’t think this is a contest of strength, Heather,” Sparky said. “I really think they intend for us to play stick-in-the-mud.”

  “You’re having me on. I thought it would at least be a variation, like playing it with shields and maces.”

  “I’d second that,” Kiel said sourly.

  The gate clanged down and the eight combatants were enclosed within the arena, with nowhere left to flee. The voice of Reptant sang out once more. “The players are in position, the game is in readiness.” She paused. “Let the contest begin.”

  The Nagas audience howled in agonising anticipation of the contest. The human contestants, the Darkthorne Legion, kept their eyes continuously upon their foes and took a collective step backwards. The Guild of Adders, however, began to split apart and very slowly made their way around to encircle their prey.

  “We’re going to have to work together,” Tarne said without taking her eyes from the snakes. “If we don’t, we’re all going to die.”

  “Then we need a good strategy,” Darkthorne said. “If anyone is incapacitated, we must do all possible to free that person quickly. We need as many of us in play at any given time.”

  “Getting into the team spirit at last, Jagrad?” Tarne asked.

  “I would very much like to live, Heather, so yes I’m getting into the team spirit at last.”

  Tarne detected no small amount of fear to his voice and felt perhaps she had been wrong about him. No, not wrong; perhaps just not right. “Anyone else with any ideas to offer?” she asked.

  “We kill them,” Kiel said. “That would stop them winning.”

  “We might forfeit the game if we did that,” Tarne said, “although it’s certainly worth bearing in mind if we get down to just one of us alone.”

  The Nagas chose that moment to strike and Tarne had never seen anyone move swifter. She leaped to one side as the first of the Adders shot past her, its fingers narrowly missing her chest. The others of her team scattered, although not quickly enough. One of the Adders caught Sparky and darted back after touching him. Sparky cried aloud as he felt his body tense, and his arms flung up to a horizontal position even as his legs spread themselves apart so he was standing like some form of insane scarecrow. Only with his legs apart, since scarecrows don’t stand that way.

  “I can’t move,” Sparky said, trying very hard to.

  “I think that’s the idea,” Tarne said. “Hold on, I’m coming for you.”

  The four Nagas regrouped, all of them untouched, and cackled with glee. Tarne quickly put names to them. They were all male, and they tended to centre around one who had a scar running across his right cheek. There was a small snake who seemed to favour his left side, for she had seen him reach out with that hand, and there was one whose scales were a darker shade of green, almost brown in fact. The fourth snake was possessed of longer claws than his fellows. Tarne aptly named them Scar, Lefty, Brown and Claws.

  They attacked again.

  Tarne leaped to the side, although this time Kiel and Darkthorne had had enough and charged for their foes. Darkthorne wisely reached out with his hand, and managed to touch Lefty as he passed him. Instantly did Lefty convulse and stand as prone as Sparky before him. Kiel, however, did not seem to understand the rules of the game, and tried to punch her foe to death. Unfortunately she had chosen Scar, who was seasoned enough to evade the blows. With the agility of a snake, Scar dropped beneath her blows and thudded two fingers into Kiel’s belly, sending an uncontrollable spasm through her as she too became paralysed.

  Tarne watched the Nagas regroup and took her chance to run back to Sparky, diving and skidding as she reached him so she passed between his legs feet first. Once she was all the way through, Sparky began to move again and flexed his limbs experimentally.

  “I never liked this game,” he grumbled, “even when I was a kid.”

  “Come on,” Tarne said, pulling Sparky after her and standing them both before the still-prone form of Lefty. “If we stand here, they can’t possibly free him, which gives us the advantage of numbers.”

  Darkthorne was running towards Kiel that he might release her also, although Brown moved to cut him off. Darkthorne tried to dive between Kiel’s legs, but the gap was just too narrow. “Get your legs apart, woman,” he shouted at her.

  A look of intense anger flared behind Kiel’s eyes and she barked off several colourful phrases. Darkthorne jumped back, shocked, which was fortunate considering it allowed Brown to careen straight past him. Seeing the snake-man pass by, Darkthorne seized his opportunity and rolled through Kiel’s legs, allowing her to move again.

  “Move!” Darkthorne shouted, and they ran to stand beside Tarne and Sparky. Kiel flexed her fingers and growled at Darkthorne. “What the hell kind of game is this?”

  Tarne blinked. “You never played this where you come from?”

  “I killed my first man when I was five years old, Heather. Two years before that, I was out with the deer hunts. I didn’t waste time playing stupid games.”

  “It’s simple,” Darkthorne said, realising she had to know the rules if any of them were to survive. “We have to touch all of them before they touch all of us. If we get all four of them prone, we win. If someone has been touched, the only way to free them is to pass beneath their legs, hence the reason you have to spread your legs wide.”

  “Well you could have put it a bit more tactfully out there,” she snarled.

  “I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically, “I was too busy trying to save your life.”
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  “Save your own, you mean,” Tarne said. “If we die, you die.”

  “And I thought I was cynical,” Darkthorne retorted.

  “Forget all that,” Kiel snapped. “Are there any other rules?”

  “No,” Tarne said. “Just don’t get touched. And don’t let them get to the ones we’ve already captured.”

  “What if he touches us?” Kiel said, indicating Lefty.

  “Can’t,” Tarne said. “He’s out of the game until he’s released.”

  Kiel shook her head. “This is a stupid game.”

  “Right now,” Darkthorne said, “this stupid game is all that stands between us and oblivion.”

  “Jagrad’s right,” Tarne said. “Sparky and I’ll stay with Lefty here. The two of you get out there and try to capture a couple more of them.”

  Darkthorne nodded. “You got the rules straight, Sara?”

  “They’re dumb rules.”

  “But do you have them straight?”

  “Yeah, but they’re still dumb rules.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Darkthorne and Kiel charged the remaining Nagas, which was what the Guild of Adders had been waiting for. They split apart at the final moment, although none of them seemed interested in either Darkthorne or Kiel. Instead, they converged upon Tarne and Sparky, and the two humans tensed themselves for what was to come. “We play this right, we can get ‘em all,” Tarne said.

  The three snakes were upon them. Sparky moved forward unexpectedly, reaching out for Claws, although missing by a hair’s breadth. Claws continued running, while Brown came behind him, reaching out and touching Sparky as he moved. Instantly, Sparky was frozen. “Not again,” he wailed.

  Tarne ignored him, concentrating instead upon Scar bearing down upon her. He ran straight for her and she knew she could take him. At the final moment, however, he dropped, his sinuous body seeming to fold in upon itself. He passed directly between Tarne’s legs, in the same act slipping through Lefty’s also.