by Greg Curtis
After all when he'd heard the sound of trumpeting and trees breaking like twigs, he'd also quickly chosen to stay as far away from the mammoths as he could. They didn't mean him any harm, he knew. They didn't even notice him. But they could easily trample him underfoot or drop a tree on him.
Prima was not a safe world to travel through. Even if the ogres seemed peaceful.
Soon he spotted the beasts basking in the sun along the river bank, doing their best to look like rotting logs, and he took a detour around them before he continued on his journey. At least he was starting to recognise the dangers this world posed, he thought. Enough to avoid them. And he could find food. If Prima was to be his home for the rest of his life, he could survive here until the end.
Though there were still mysteries to be unravelled. Like these ruins that dotted the endless forest. Who had built them? How old were they? And why did they freeze? Also why did they reek of death and threat? He'd come across three of them now, and they were all the same. Dangerous relics in various stages of decay, filled with ice. But maybe, he had begun to think, somewhere in them he would find an answer to the only question that actually mattered. How could he fix what he had done? Assuming it could be fixed.
Naturally there were no answers to be found along the river bank. Just more leagues of walking, hopefully in the right direction. And so that was what he did. He walked. Still using his staff when he had to, though these days it was less for support and more out of habit that he carried it. Also it could make quite a handy weapon against one of the river monsters if he ever foolishly got too close.
And as the day progressed and the sun slowly slid by overhead, he pushed aside his questions and his guilt and he concentrated on the endless trudging.
It would be useful, he thought, if he had some magic other than that of the mind. Something that would help him travel or keep him safe. But he had had only one priority since the sprites had taken his family – to stop them. And knowledge had been the key to that. He would actually have been more prepared for this walk if he hadn't sat on any of the thrones. Deciphering ancient texts and understanding riddles simply didn't help. But he was growing stronger.
Midday came and went and he spent it chewing on some strips of dried meat he'd taken off a fallen beast he'd come across. But he didn't stop his walking. Nor looking for any sign of the road ahead. But there was nothing to see. Just the river curving off into the distance, the river banks of mud and grass, the endless trees and the sky. The same things he'd seen for days.
The sun dipped a little lower in the sky and it was the same. Though at least, he thought, he was warmer – now that he was no longer in the damp trees.
And finally the evening turned up just as he was thinking he needed to stop for the night and set up camp.
But it was then, just as he was looking for a good spot to set up camp, that he spotted something new. Not a road, but not a forest or a river either. Instead it was a flickering. A ripple in the air that he knew could only be magic. And there was only one magical thing out here he was looking for.
Excited by the possibility, he hurried towards it and soon enough he could see the shimmer in the air that he knew was caused by overlapping space where the images of different things competed to be seen. It had to be the road!
“Yes!” Fylarne smiled as he knew he'd finally found his destination. His way out of Prima. And he continued on his way towards it, eager to cross on to it. And the closer he got, the more confused the rippling in the air became. It was as though he was staring into a reflection on a lake and seeing more than one image.
But he didn't care. He strode on the last few paces until all he could see in front of him was an endless mixture of ripples, and then pushed through them. And a moment later he stepped on to the road.
“Praise the ladies!” he muttered as he stood there, with nothing but a dirt track in front of him, stretching out to both sides. And then he laughed.
He'd made it! Very few others had ever escaped from Prima. He should be grateful for his good fortune.
But the feeling of triumph and relief fairly quickly left him as he stared at the dirt road in front of him. Now he had to continue on. He had to follow the road. One way or the other. If he headed to his right, he knew, he would wind up at the Temple and there be stuck. Because the last part of the road was blocked off like the grand portal. Not to mention that there was a ring of void around it which he couldn't pass through. But maybe the road would pass around the void as it travelled between the worlds, and arrive inside its circumference. And if that happened, then maybe he could instead of following the road around the side of the volcano, begin an assent. Elodie hadn't been clear in her sending about just how narrow the ring around the volcano was.
On the other side however was the gate leading to the other worlds. He could head there. But of course all of them could now be gone. Or be in the process of being consumed by the void. Yet there was still hope that they remained, some of them at least. And if he got back to Thiessen, maybe he could do something useful. Find a library perhaps and begin studying the problem. If there were any left.
Fylarne stood there for a while, considering. Maybe, when he thought about it, he hadn't actually achieved that much after all. But still there was one thing. As he followed the road in either direction, it would weave its way between worlds. And if he got close to them, close enough to see what was on the other side, he could see what they were like. If they were still there or merely pieces of void. Either way it was less than a days walk to either the gate or the Temple. And for the moment he could set up camp.
He had a day to think about what he did next.
Chapter Fifteen
The world was ending. All the worlds were ending. Chy kept trying to make sense of that, and kept failing. He had received the sending from Elodie a week before, and he believed what she had said. Or at least he had believed that she believed it. She wasn't the sort to lie. But how could worlds just end? Become nothing? He didn't understand that. In truth he wasn't even completely sure what the primordial void was. Regardless he thought the Guardian had to be wrong.
What he did understand was that the world was changing. And if what Elodie had said was correct, all the worlds were changing. The Temple, the Heartfire, was fighting back. And it was doing that first and foremost by releasing its fire and fury to the shadow worlds. There was a reason why the sky had turned golden even in the middle of the day. Why the land sometimes shook. And why he felt sick to his very core each morning when he awoke after a night of dark dreams.
And there was a reason why a giant scorpion the size of a house was being held down by a dozen dwarves in the middle of Charlton!
“Balls!” He stared at the sight in disbelief. As did so many others.
The barriers between worlds were breaking down. One moment there had been no scorpion and no dwarves, the next there were and the middle of the nice orderly cobbled streets of Charlton had somehow become a rocky expanse.
Chy stood there and stared in shock at the sight, while all around him madness ensued. While dwarves hanging on the ends of the ropes holding the beast down were being tossed around wildly and the town guards, somewhat more awake than him, started shooting at the giant beast. And while the giant scorpion's tail kept striking out at everyone in sight. At least until the sound of people screaming in terror, finally returned his wits to him. And to realise that things weren't going the dwarves' way. Or the way of the guards. Their bullets were simply bouncing off the scorpion's shell.
Maybe the dwarves had been winning before they'd arrived here. He had to believe they had had a plan even if he didn't know why they were battling a giant scorpion to begin with. But now the scorpion had solid purchase under its pincers, and it was using it. Dragging them around like little dogs on leashes. Worse its sting was lashing out at them, and at anyone else who was foolish enough to get too close as it made its way down the street. And it was barely missing.
People were s
creaming. Dwarves were yelling and dodging crazily. And somewhere in the middle of it all he heard a little girl shriek in terror.
“Bastard!” That scream jolted him back into life. He had to do something. More of his friends were going to die – and he couldn't allow that.
Chy raised his hands and sent a spear of ice streaking into the horrid beast and then watched as it was torn into two before he even thought about the madness of what he was doing. And then he watched as the dwarves and their ropes pulled what remained of the scorpion apart and then fell over in the street.
It was a good strike. Powerful and clean. And it had come so easily to him. It was also the first time he'd ever used his gift in anger. And for a heartbeat, maybe even two, he was pleased with his efforts. But then he realised that people were staring at him. People had seen the ice spear come from his hands. And now many of those who hadn't were turning to stare at him, eyes open wide in disbelief. Some were pointing.
“Balls!” He swore as he realised what he'd done. “Piss arsed bollocks!” All his years of hiding what he could do, had just been wasted! But what was he supposed to do when giant scorpions were roaming the streets and little girls were screaming?!
That of course was only the beginning of his troubles. Soon there were a dozen or more dwarves in the middle of the town, advancing on him. And none of them spoke a tongue he knew. They spoke whatever tongue they spoke in their own world. And they didn't understand why no one was answering them. Or for that matter, where they were or how they had got here. They were starting to grow angry. And they knew what a caster was. They wouldn't accept him trying to pretend that he didn't understand them.
“Shite!” He swore quietly some more. It was time to use some more magic, he realised. There was no choice. No good one anyway.
He reached for the very first magic he had ever learned, the one that the Temple taught to everyone who visited it even before they sat on a throne for the first time, and unleashed the arcane tongue on everyone he could see. At least no one could tell he was casting it.
“Do you understand me now?” he asked the closest of the dwarves.
“Yes, wizard,” the dwarf began. Then he stopped dead in surprise. “What tongue am I speaking? And how?”
“It's the arcane tongue of Prima. The language of casters. And you're speaking it as are a great many others, because I willed it. No harm has come to you and none was intended.” He added the last as he noticed the huge iron battleaxe on the dwarf's back and the scar across his broken nose. The man was a fighter of some sort. But then all dwarves were fighters.
“But –.”
“This is Althern. The world of humans like me. And you and the scorpion have all somehow slipped through from your own world. And before you ask I don't know how. Only the sprites do.” He paused for a moment. “You are from Stalen?”
“The Cupris Clanhold!” the dwarf with the huge battleaxe on his back announced proudly to the cheers of his fellow dwarves. “The finest clanhold in all the lands!”
“That is another land. Another world,” Chy told them when the noise had died down. “There are no clanholds here.”
“Then why did you bring us here, wizard?!” The dwarf glared angrily at him.
“I didn't. I said that. And before you ask I can't send you back there either. I don't have that gift.”
“What?!” The dwarf's pride vanished to be replaced by worry. “We're trapped here?!” He raised his voice.
“I'm sorry. But it seems that way. For the time being you are going to have to make peace with the people here in this town. It is called Charlton, in the Kingdom of Ruttland. And to do that you'll have to speak with them.”
“That's not possible!” The dwarf corrected him. “You have to send us home!”
“I can't. It is beyond me. I'm sorry.” He shrugged helplessly. “My gift is limited.”
“That ice spear didn't look weak!” the leader retorted.
“Some things are easier than others,” Chy replied. “Ice and fire are easy. Creating a portal to a world I've never been to is harder.” And while it might sound like an excuse, even to his ears, it was the truth. Everyone had things they were better at and things that were harder for them.
The dwarves stood there, staring at him, considering, and for a time there was silence in the town. No one seemed to know what to say. Not everyone even knew what was happening. But eventually the leader of the dwarves seemed to come back to the world.
“So by the Stonecutter's hairy arse, what do we do now?”
“Live,” Chy told him simply. “For the time being this is your home. You'll have to make do with things.”
“You'll have to find a way to earn some coin,” Chy continued. “Whatever coin you have from your home will be worthless here.” In fact it would be worthless anywhere but in their own clanhold from what he understood. The coin of one clan was not accepted by others – possibly because it was all stamped with the head of their clan leader. Dwarves from different clanholds so he understood, didn't just not accept the coin of others, they actually spat on it. “And you'll need to find somewhere to sleep. But if you have gold or silver, that will be bought.”
“But where is the stone?!” Another dwarf called out.
“Where it always has been. Back in your world. This is not your world.” Chy guessed he was going to have to repeat that a few more times yet before it sank in. But then this had to be at least as much of a shock to the dwarves as it was to everyone else.
“That's not possible!” Another of the garrulous fighters yelled at him. “You're lying!”
“I'm not lying,” Chy replied calmly, hoping that this wasn't going to end in a pitched battle. But he understood how the dwarves must feel.
“I told you, this is the sprites doing. If you want someone to blame, blame them. No one here is responsible for what has befallen you.”
“Those weaklings! What could they do?” A dwarf with orange hair everywhere raised his axe at him. “They're nothing! Certainly not warriors!”
And to him, Chy realised, the strength of their weapons was everything. Magic was nothing. Trickery and misdirection. Nothing of worth. Now it seemed, their view of such things would have to change. He took a deep breath.
“Some days ago the winged vermin attacked the Heartfire Temple in Prima and tried to seize it. Only one guardian survived, and she sent a message to us all, telling us of the attack. And when she did she told us that much of the magic of the worlds is breaking down because of what they've done. Now the Temple is closed and none can go there. And there has been no more word since.”
“Those stone shitting flying rats!” The dwarf with the scars yelled angrily at no one in particular. But angry as he was, he still had his wits about him.
“If you cannot send us home wizard, there must be others who can. Better wizards.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But if there are such casters among my people, I do not know them as I imagine they do not know me. And the magic to open a portal to another world where you are not is very advanced. To do so to a world that you have never seen is even more so.”
Maybe something in that got through to the man. He saw the dwarf's face fall. Even the axe he was brandishing wasn't being waved around quite so vigorously.
“For the moment, I can only tell you that I cannot send you back there. Only one of your own casters can do that. But if the Guardian is to believed, others from your world will arrive here in time. Some of them may have the gift.” But from what he understood, that might be a long way off. There weren't many dwarves with the gift. Their people didn't value magic. They valued steel and stone. They were almost as non-magical as humans.
Meanwhile he was less worried by the dwarves, and more by the fact that all the townsfolk were staring at him, just starting to realise that he wasn't the simply rock polisher he had always seemed to be. And among them was his little sister Aisha. His secret was more than out. Now his family knew!
He groaned q
uietly, shuffled a little awkwardly on the spot and made his pack comfortable on his back once more. Maybe he shouldn't have walked in to town today, he thought. The supplies he'd bought had just cost him far more than the coin he'd paid! But on the other hand he had just killed a giant scorpion and hopefully stopped a battle in the streets.
“You're in charge here, wizard?” The lead dwarf with the smashed and scarred nose finally asked.
“No. That man is.” He pointed at the Mayor who'd just emerged from one of the shops, and who like everyone else was staring at him and the dwarves in their leather and chain armour and with their weapons on their backs.
“Him?!” The dwarf looked shocked. “That old carbuncle! He doesn't look strong enough to hold a pickaxe let alone swing one! Hows he going to crack a skull?!”