“The dawn will soon be upon us.”
Soon be upon you, perhaps.
The voice ringing around the dormitory was disgustingly, devastatingly, horrifically cheery. It made Sagandran realize that he’d rather face death by firing squad than open his eyes. If the world was going to be full of this hearty jolliness today, he’d rather not be a part of it.
“It looks as if it’s going to be a beautiful day.”
Sagandran’s thoughts plunged into the realms of unprintability.
Someone shook his shoulder. The touch was gentle and sympathetic.
“Come on, Sagandran. You can do it.”
This was a different voice, a familiar one. For its sake, he was prepared to open one eye, but only one.
Focusing it was another matter.
When the blur finally cleared, he discovered that he was looking up at the dark face of Perima, and at Perima’s grin. She was clutching a candle. As he watched, a blob of molten wax slowly oozed down its side toward her fingers.
“Watch out for—” he began.
She shifted her grip on the candle hastily. “Thanks.”
The sacrifices I make through my chivalrous impulses toward this girl, he thought, surprised that his brain could string so many coherent words together. The act of warning her had jerked him into something like full wakefulness.
“What time is it?” he mumbled.
“Time to get up,” she answered helpfully.
There were three bathrooms at one end of the dormitory. One was already in use and Perima was heading toward another, so Sagandran staggered into the third, wishing that whoever had put a sponge in his skull in place of his brain would hurry up and swap them back. He plonked himself down on the seat in the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, as he emerged face washed and teeth finger-brushed, he felt a little better about the prospects for the day. Sir Tombin, behaving as if there were no better time to be up and around than while the skies were still dark and the stars still shining, was in the process of buckling on his sword. Perima had been quicker her ablutions than Sagandran, and was now giving the appearance of waiting impatiently for, you know, just ages. Samzing, Sagandran was pleased to notice, had the same sensible attitude toward mornings as himself, and was trying to get both feet into the same sock. Shano, whom Sagandran identified balefully as the owner of that merry voice, was standing in a corner watching the proceedings with a loathsome smile on his face.
“We’re ready,” said Sir Tombin finally, gazing around him with satisfaction.
“Where’s Flip?” said Perima.
Sagandran frowned. “Don’t say he’s wandered off somewhere.”
They quickly searched the dormitory and the bathrooms. Hoping that he wouldn’t see what he was dreading, Sagandran made a point of lifting each of the seats in the latter and peeking in. No pathetic little floating corpse greeted his eye.
Shano tapped his feet, his handsome face twisting into a mask of indecision. “We can’t afford to delay,” he said agitatedly. “The gate can be opened only at certain times. If we don’t move quickly, it will be another two or three days before we get another chance.”
Perima looked between Shano and Samzing. “Can’t either of you find him by magic?”
“I wish it were that easy,” Samzing replied glumly. He’d emerged victorious from the Great Sock Battle but still had the look of a doll dressed by a toddler. “I could cast another seeking spell, but it might be hours before we found him that way.”
Shano’s face cleared. “I could cast a seeking spell so he could find you,” he offered.
“Good idea,” said Samzing grumpily. He’d had to invent the spell that had called Snowmane from Wonderville. Now it seemed that every pipsqueak young wizard in Qarnapheeran could do the same spell as if it were a matter of course. That was the trouble with living so cut off from your professional peer group: you lost track of the latest research.
The younger wizard muttered various incantations in a language that sounded like extremely bad Latin, then waved his arms a couple of times. “There, that’s done. Now all we can do is hope he finds you before your, um, departure.”
The companions shrugged at each other. Sir Tombin and Samzing seemed philosophical about their little friend’s absence, but Perima looked as worried as Sagandran felt.
“I don’t like this,” she muttered to Sagandran as they followed Shano out through the door and started along the tiled corridor. “Where can he be?”
“I suppose he might be safer here than with us in the Shadow World,” said Sagandran, hoping to cheer her up.
“Hm,” was her only response. Her lips were set in a tight line.
Shano led them along the corridor, then up a short flight of stairs. After they’d traversed several more passageways and Sagandran had completely lost all sense of direction, they came to a much longer flight of stairs. They climbed up it, the tip of Sir Tombin’s scabbard tapping on the edge of each step.
At last, they were in a large, circular room, whose domed cupola showed that the sky was beginning to lighten. The floor was of dark marble brought to such a high polish that Sagandran could see the cupola reflected in it clearly enough to distinguish the pinpoints of the remaining stars, but he hardly had eyes for this. In the center of the room, dominating it, was a huge mirror framed with what looked like thick rope spun from gold. A couple of steps led up to the platform upon which the mirror stood. On the top of the mirror was a crystal with numberless facets that pulsed an unearthly blue light. He was reminded of the portal he’d found back in the Earthworld. An icy tingle ran up his spine and he shuddered. This must be the gateway to the Shadow World.
Fariam was standing beside the mirror, extending his arms in welcome. Beside him stood Renada, the female magician they’d last seen in the council chamber and off to one side, poised on one leg, was the strange birdlike man known as Fattanillo. Head to one side, he was regarding Samzing with bright inquisitiveness, following the magician’s every move. Sagandran recalled that the two had been good friends in bygone days.
“We have a friend here for you,” said Fariam, approaching them.
Flip, thought Sagandran, his heart leaping, but instead there was a neigh from the far side of the room.
“Snowmane!” cried Perima. She ran across to throw her arm around the horse’s neck.
“How did you get him up here?” said Sir Tombin to Renada, who was smiling broadly at the girl hugging the horse.
“They are magicians, you know,” Samzing interrupted, sounded waspish. “I thought I was the one who’d not yet woken up properly, Quackie.”
Sir Tombin grinned. “You’re quite right, my dear fellow.”
“Yes,” said Renada. “Your animal was a little startled by the sudden transition up here to the Dimension Room, but otherwise he didn’t seem to mind. Fariam insisted that the horse go with you,” she said, nodding in the Grand Master’s direction.
“My senses tell me that Snowmane has an important role to play in the story that has yet to unfold,” explained Fariam.
Still murmuring endearments, Perima led the horse over to join the others.
Sagandran touched Snowmane’s nose lightly with the back of his fist, but then his attention drifted back toward the gateway.
“Don’t be frightened,” said Fariam reassuringly, seeing the direction of his gaze. He clapped lightly to attract everyone’s attention before continuing. “Of all the magical devices ever created in Qarnapheeran, my friends, this is almost certainly the most marvelous. It was made a long time ago by a group of our wizards whose power surpasses our imagination today. They were seeking to explore the realms beyond ours, beyond Sagaria. As you know, they found that the portal led not just to a realm of great beauty, the Earthworld, but also to a realm of great severity, the Shadow World. Even though they were aware that other gateways existed, the mages decided to seal off this one to prevent any of the denizens of the Shadow World entering our world and wreaking havoc.
Of course, this has now come about through another of the portals. The time has arrived when we must unseal our own.”
Fariam sighed. “I had hoped this time would not come while I was alive.”
He fell silent. After a moment, Renada took up the explanation. “Our opening of the portal has been only partial. Passing through here will lead you only to the Shadow World. You cannot stray to find yourselves in the Earthworld, or even elsewhere in Sagaria. There is just the one possible destination. According to those ancient mages who ventured there, the portal places you within a couple of days’ walk of the palace of the Shadow World’s ancestral masters. We believe that Arkanamon has seized the palace for his own.”
Sagandran nodded. He’d read in magazines about black holes and wormholes in space. It sounded as if the portal was a sort of magical equivalent of one of those, only that the wizards had somehow managed to calibrate it.
“When you enter,” Renada was saying, “you’ll discover yourself, at first, in a place of …” she struggled to find the expression she was looking for, “semi-existence, if that conveys what I mean. It’s also a haven for every human thought and idea that has never been expressed in any of the real worlds. Be very careful what you think while you’re traveling through this intermediary region. The thoughts and ideas are like mental parasites, forever seeking to find a mind they can attach themselves to. Some of them are lovely, but most of them are hideous. You could be in danger of losing your lives if your guard slips and you allow them to creep into your mind. You might never be able to get them out again. If you do, they manifest themselves in reality. Fantasy becomes reality instantly.”
Sagandran shifted from one foot to the other. It was easier to understand when it was just about wormholes, he thought resignedly. Oh well, I’m sure it will all make sense when we get there.
“After you have entered the portal,” Renada continued smoothly, “we shall seal it up again. This means that you can’t use it to return to Sagaria.”
Samzing, who’d looked to be dozing off as he leaned on his stick, twitched into wakefulness. “Eh? What do you mean? How are we supposed to get back then? Is this a one-way trip?”
“I hope not,” said Renada. Her smile now was wistful and concerned. “To return, you will have to find a portal in the Shadow World. I do not envy your search.”
Her sad voice drifted away in a falling cadence.
“There is nothing further we can do to help you in your quest,” said Fariam, spreading his hands as if surrendering to the dictates of fate. “None of us has ever been to the Shadow World. The mages who built the portal ventured there, but they’ve long since gone. However,” he said, reaching into a pocket of his robe, “I can give you this.”
He held out a bracelet to Sagandran, who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it. The bracelet was a plain band made of a blue metal he didn’t recognize. It weighed very little and seemed cheap and tinny. Anodized aluminum, perhaps, like the kind of trinket you might get out of a lucky gumball machine, but he knew that the value of the ring must lie deeper than its appearance. Fariam would not have given it to him with such solemnity otherwise.
He looked up at the old magician inquiringly.
Fariam gave a thin smile. “The bracelet is enchanted. It can reflect back on the caster the most powerful of killing spells. But it can be used just once, so shield yourself with it only when you see no alternative means of protection. It’s a last-ditch defense, if you need it, to keep the Rainbow Crystal out of the hands of Arkanamon. I hope you will never be forced to rely upon it, that you will encounter no danger so grave.”
Sagandran nodded, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist, unable to find words to respond. He knew that if he tried to speak, the sudden terror that Fariam’s statement had struck into him would be all too plain.
He was distracted from his fears by the arrival amid a flurry of white robes, of Deicher, the one who had been all too keen to go with them into the Shadow World. Sagandran’s spirits sank at the sight of him. There was only one reason he could be here. Fariam had finally given in to Deicher’s appeals. Sagandran had disliked the man the moment he’d first seen him and, if anything, his distrust had deepened. There was something about the magician that made his skin feel dirty; just being in the same room as him gave Sagandran the illogical urge to go and wash his hands very thoroughly, with lots of soap.
Deicher announced his presence with a smug smile and a question. “Are we all ready to go?”
“I believe we are,” said Sir Tombin gravely, his face a mask. He clearly resented Deicher being among them as much as Sagandran, but he was more skilled at hiding it.
“Then please step toward the mirror,” said Fariam, his hands moving nervously.
“What about Flip?” Perima cried. She looked to Snowmane as if for confirmation. “He’s not here yet. We have to wait for him.”
“There’s no time,” said Renada anxiously. “This gateway stays aligned with its counterpart in the Shadow World only intermittently. We told you. If you don’t go now—”
“She’s right,” boomed Deicher, still grinning complacently. “We can’t afford to tarry.”
Then why were you so late arriving? thought Sagandran. He was just about to voice the question when Fariam spoke.
“Perhaps it’s just as well. The Shadow World is a dangerous place for anyone, but most of all for the little adventurer from Mishmash.”
“No more dangerous for him than for the rest of us,” said Perima, her gaze flat and suspicious.
“But he’s so small,” replied Fariam. “So easy to lose. So weak. Those same senses of mine that predicted you will need Snowmane are also telling me that Flip would only be an encumbrance, and that he would certainly meet his doom if he were among you.” The Grand Master spread his arms as if no further explanation were needed.
Sir Tombin nodded, coming to a decision. “Alas, this is true. Look at the way he’s wandered off, when he knows how important it is to be with us. He’s unreliable. I shall miss his company dreadfully but, as Fariam said, our mission will be easier without worrying about him the whole time. He’ll be safer here.”
Sagandran opened his mouth to argue, then realized that he didn’t have an argument to offer.
Glancing across at Perima, he saw that she’d come to the same conclusion. “I suppose so,” she said slowly. “I suppose so.”
“I hate to interrupt this earnest discussion,” said Deicher in a voice that indicated otherwise, “but the portal appears to be beckoning us.”
It was true. The pulsing light of the great portal was increasing in intensity, the pulses coming more rapidly. In its flickering light, Snowmane’s flank looked pale blue.
“Please go up onto the platform.” Fariam spoke in a low voice, as if he were still unhappy about something that he didn’t want to admit. “You will know when it is time to enter the portal.”
Persuading Snowmane to ascend the platform wasn’t easy. The steps had been designed for human feet, not horses’ hooves, but it was accomplished after a minute or two of earnest coaxing from Perima. At last, the disparate band was there beside the gateway. The crystal was now flashing so swiftly, it seemed almost to be giving a steady blue glare. The platform wasn’t quite large enough for all of them, especially with Snowmane there. Sagandran had to cling onto Samzing’s arm to stop himself from toppling off the edge. Deicher had placed himself firmly in the middle of the company, between Sir Tombin and Snowmane, both of whom looked as if they wished the magician had chosen somewhere else.
Now the portal had picked up the pulsing blue of the crystal, resonating with it. The mirrored surface was a turmoil of rapidly flashing light, building to an ever greater brightness. Sagandran glanced at it once, was dazzled, and looked away again hurriedly. The whole Dimension Room was becoming a cauldron of blue brilliance.
Fariam raised his robed arms. Even though he was small and bent and old, his figure in this moment bespoke great majesty. Renada, standing besid
e him, was a full head taller than the Grand Master, but somehow seemed much smaller.
Sagandran, screwing his eyes up against the relentless glare, watched as the old wizard began to intone words of magic that were not so much heard as felt, like the blast of a great rush of wind.
The portal, and the platform with it, started to tremble in time with the pulses of light. Every tooth in Sagandran’s jaws was trying to leap clear. Then there was a thunderclap of sound that battered the ears, and the room was lost to Sagandran in a blaze of blue light.
“Hurry, hurry!” wailed Memo, leaping up the long flight of shining marble stairs ahead of Flip.
“I’m hurrying as fast as I can,” puffed the Adventurer Extraordinaire. There was a pain in his side like a dagger wedged between his ribs, but he forced himself to climb faster. The memorizer had told him that this was the way to the Dimension Room where the portal had been mounted, and Flip hoped beyond all hope that Memo was right. If not, there was no way Flip was going to be able to move another inch.
“Not far now,” cried the memorizer. Peering upward, Flip could no longer see him, then Memo popped his head over the lip of a step to look back down at him. From this distance, Flip couldn’t see the little creature’s head, just the thick-rimmed spectacles.
One more step. Take a breath. A couple of paces forward. Reach his paws above him to grip the corner of the next riser. And pull.
Memo reached down a paw in a futile attempt to help him up the final step. Flip would have been better off without it, but hadn’t the breath to say so.
At last, he was on a landing. All he wanted to do was collapse in a heap for at least a week, but drawing on reserves of strength he didn’t know he possessed, he tottered forward toward a great door. Luckily, the door was slightly ajar, leaving just enough space for the two small companions to squeeze through. A ray of blue brilliance was streaming from within.
Flip instinctively put his paws up to shield his eyes. For some reason, there was a powerful reek of seething resin, as if fresh pine logs were being slowly roasted. The air was full of incomprehensible, rhythmically spoken words that seemed to buffet his body. Leaning forward, he forced himself into the chamber like someone walking into the teeth of a gale. Behind him, Memo clung to the door jamb to save himself from being swept away.
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