by R. L. King
Karol slammed him into the wall again, and then once more. All around them the crowd cheered, anticipatory sharks circling wounded prey.
Stone, acting with an animal’s desperation now, renewed his attempts to extricate himself from Karol’s grip, but even madman’s strength wasn’t enough. Karol threw him to the bloody dirt and dropped on top of him, straddling his abdomen and raining blows down on his upper body.
“I got you now!” he yelled, triumphant.
Stone spat blood and tried to buck upward to throw the man off, but any minimal combat skills he might possess didn’t extend to wrestling.
He might as well have been stuck under a car, for all Karol moved. Stone’s opponent seemed to ignore his efforts, as a grown man might ignore the ineffectual struggles of a boy. With a wild yell, he raised his hands, brought them down around Stone’s neck, and began to squeeze. He leaned down until his wide, grinning face was only inches from Stone’s.
This is it. I’m dead.
And then something unexpected happened.
The grip didn’t tighten. Karol appeared to be bearing down with all his strength, his hands wrapped around Stone’s neck shaking with his effort—but Stone felt only minimal pressure. What—?
“Play along,” Karol hissed, barely moving his lips around his bared teeth. “Grab my armband and hold on tight. Make it look good.” His voice didn’t sound dull or feeble-minded now.
“What—?” Stone whispered, staring at Karol as if he’d suddenly sprouted wings.
“Do it!” he insisted. “We don’t have much time.”
Stone thought about it for only a second. He had no idea what was going on, but if Karol was the real deal he was already dead, so he had nothing to lose. Pretending to be choking under Karol’s onslaught, he flailed one arm at his throat, trying to rip the man’s hands free, and the other landed on his opponent’s armband. He gripped it and held on tight.
Instantly, he began to feel woozy. His body, already slicked with sweat and grime and blood, felt like it was cooking from the inside. His limbs didn’t work anymore. What did you do to me? he tried to protest, but the words got lost from his brain to his mouth.
Karol’s hands tightened around his neck, and black bubbles billowed in front of his eyes. He didn’t even feel it when his head fell back and hit the dirt.
Part II
23
When Stone’s consciousness returned, he didn’t smell dirt, or blood, or sweat. He didn’t hurt, or even feel disoriented. He wasn’t lying on a thin, hard mattress; in fact, the surface under him felt soft, and he was covered with a blanket.
He opened his eyes. The room was dark; all he could see were shadowy shapes.
Am I back in the hospital? But no, that didn’t make sense. He didn’t smell medicine, and anyway why would the Talented bother putting a fallen Dim fighter in the hospital?
Why aren’t I dead? He sat up as it came back to him: Karol had done something to him. But what—?
A faint, soothing light came on. “Ah, you’re awake. How do you feel?” A female voice, one he didn’t recognize.
He twisted around to look. A young woman sat next to the bed, watching him. When she caught him looking at her, she smiled.
How did he feel? He glanced around the room—it was a bedroom, simple but well-appointed, with heavy drapes on the window blocking any outside light, a tall wooden armoire, and a small table with two chairs. The bed he lay in was soft, with a substantial quilted comforter covering him. “I—”
She chuckled. “I know—this has got to all be fairly confusing for you. Would you like anything? Something to eat? Or should I clear out so you can take a proper shower? We cleaned you up when you got here, but I’m sure a nice hot shower would be welcome.”
Stone looked down at himself, pushing the covers away. They had indeed cleaned him up; there was no sign of the blood, grime, or sweat from the arena, and he was now dressed in fine pajama bottoms—not the thin things he’d worn at the prison, or the gray shorts. His armband was gone too.
“What I want,” he said slowly, “is to know where the hell I am. What happened to me? How did I—”
She held a hand up. “Believe me, you’ll find out everything. But not from me. Trust me—get yourself cleaned up and dressed, and then I’ll take you where you can eat something and ask all your questions. There’s a selection of clothes in the armoire—I’m sure you’ll find something you like.” She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry—I promise, you’re safe now and you’ll get answers to whatever you want to know.” She indicated something on the nightstand next to the bed. “Just use the intercom there to call me when you’re ready, and I’ll take you there.”
He looked, startled. Intercom? Sure enough, the thing on the stand looked like a modern-day intercom button and speaker, something that wouldn’t look out of place back home on Earth. Was he on Earth? Had they somehow sent him home when he was unconscious? Questions bubbled and jostled in his mind, demanding answers. “Listen, I—”
She gripped his shoulder, and there was nothing deceptive or concealing in her expression. “Trust me,” she said. “I know you’ve got to be pretty confused right now. Just bear with us, all right?”
His mind locked on a question. “Just tell me one thing before you go. Where’s Karol?”
“He’s fine,” she assured him. “You can talk to him later.” Without waiting for him to ask anything else, she waved and disappeared through the door, which she closed behind her. He noticed there was no snick of a lock engaging.
Tentatively, he swung his legs around and stood up, ready to slump back if he felt dizzy—but he didn’t. Whatever vestiges of what Karol had done to him in the Arena had passed. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious. Were they still in Temolan? Back in Drendell?
No point in wasting time on speculation. You aren’t going to figure it out on your own. Instead, he crossed to the door and tried it.
It opened readily, revealing a carpeted hallway lined with a few other doors. So I’m not a prisoner. That’s something, anyway.
Deciding that since these people had obviously rescued him from certain death, it was rude to go wandering around in their house without permission, he stepped back into the room and closed the door.
Next, he opened the armoire. Hanging inside were several shirts of various colors, several pairs of dark trousers, and a couple of dark jackets. A shelf below held a few pairs of shoes and boots, and drawers along one side contained shorts and socks.
He pulled one of the shirts out and examined it. Simply but exquisitely made of fine fabric and stitching, it mirrored the style he’d seen wealthier men wearing in Drendell. He quickly assembled an outfit and laid it out on the bed, then went into the bathroom.
Like the bedroom it was simple but luxurious, complete with a spacious, glass-walled shower cubicle etched with an abstract, geometric pattern and a selection of toiletries and fluffy white towels on a shelf nearby.
It had been a long time since a shower felt this good, especially after all the cold ones back at the Talented’s prison. He took longer than he needed to, luxuriating in the sensation of the hot water stinging his back, then dried off and found a fresh razor near the sink. By the time he emerged back into the bedroom, he felt more human than he had since he’d arrived on this world. Even better, all the clothes fit him as if they’d been made for him. Whoever these mysterious rescuers were, he owed them a debt of gratitude.
Right, then—let’s see if they’re telling the truth about getting some answers. He hit the button on the intercom. “Hello?”
The woman answered with refreshing swiftness. “Ah, there you are. Feeling better?” Her voice held the hint of a warm chuckle.
“Much better, thank you. And I’ll feel better still if I can get some answers.”
“You will. I’ll be right there.”
She arrived only a couple minutes later, knocking on the door and then pushing it open. She looked him up and down. “You look a lot b
etter,” she said, approvingly. “I’m Vynna, by the way.”
One of the mundanes, then, by her name. “Couldn’t have been much worse,” he said with a wry smile. He could see her better now—a slim, blonde young woman in her early twenties dressed in slacks and a green blouse, her plain face made more attractive by her sparkling green eyes and cheerful expression. “I’m—”
“Alastair Stone. I know.” She motioned for him to follow her.
He tensed. She knew who he was? What the hell was going on here?
Instead of asking more questions this woman obviously wasn’t going to answer, he followed her, examining his surroundings as he went.
They appeared to be in a large, upscale house. The place’s décor matched his room: simple, elegant, purposeful, with very little ornamentation. He hadn’t seen anything like it back in Drendell. They passed an open doorway and he got a brief look out a window before they moved on: outside were tall trees and rolling hills, and he spotted the shadowy forms of more buildings. From the light, it looked like morning.
“Here we are,” Vynna said. She waved him through another doorway into a sitting room furnished with comfortable-looking sofas. A floor-to-ceiling picture window looked out on a walled garden awash with brilliant color.
The room had a single occupant. She’d been sitting on one of the sofas looking out the window, but rose as they arrived. “Well,” she said. “So you’re Alastair Stone. I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to finally get to meet you.”
Stone eyed her with suspicion. Why did everyone here know who he was, and not seem bothered by it? “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said. That’s a bloody understatement.
The woman smiled. Of medium height and slim, she had an athletic build and wore a no-nonsense shirt, trousers, and boots. Shoulder-length dark brown hair framed an intelligent, purposeful face. “This must all be fairly confusing for you. We’re sorry about that—and about how we had to get you out of there. We couldn’t take any chances that they’d catch on. That would have meant certain death for everyone involved, and not a quick one, either. Please, sit down. I’m Errin, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Stone took a seat on the sofa opposite her. “You are going to tell me what’s going on, right?”
“We’ll answer all your questions,” she said. “I’m sure you’re hungry, though—I know what they feed the prisoners in that hellhole in Temolan.”
As if on cue, Vynna, who’d disappeared back through the doorway during the introductions, returned carrying a tray. She set it on the table between Stone and Errin. “Enjoy,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything else.” Then she left again.
Stone couldn’t help it—after several days of nothing but tasteless porridge, the heaping plate of eggs, bacon, and something that looked mostly but not quite like pancakes set his mouth watering. A sparkling glass of fruit juice and another of ice water completed the spread.
“Go on,” Errin said, chuckling.
He didn’t need a second invitation. “Thank you,” he said, and immediately set about devouring the meal. Questions could wait a little longer. The food was delicious, though he supposed he would have thought the same of anything with flavor at this point.
Errin, for her part, didn’t speak while he ate. Instead, she looked out the window and waited patiently for him to finish.
At last, he pushed the empty plate away. For the first time since the fire at Faran’s shop, he felt full. “Thank you,” he said again. “That was brilliant. Now—questions? I’ve got quite a lot of them. Were you serious about answering them all?”
“Very serious.”
He eyed her with sudden suspicion. “You seem very accommodating—that’s something I haven’t encountered much of here. How do I know you’re not another one of them, trying to lure me into revealing something? They’ve already tried intimidation and torture—perhaps they’ve decided to try the carrot this time instead of the stick.”
“I can set your mind at ease about that, Dr. Stone,” came another, familiar voice.
Stone jerked his head up. “Bloody hell…” he whispered.
Standing framed in the doorway, watching him with an expression of veiled amusement, was Trevor Harrison.
24
“It’s…you.” Stone didn’t even care how dumbfounded he must sound. “You’re—here.”
“He’s a sharp one, isn’t he?” Errin commented with a grin.
“He has his moments,” Harrison said drily.
Stone continued to stare at him. He looked much the same as he remembered from the last time they’d encountered each other: tall, slim, imperious, his blue-black hair a stark contrast to his pale complexion and winter-gray eyes. Instead of a fine suit, he wore a simple white shirt and black trousers, but as before everything about him seemed unnaturally put together. The effect was similar to, but not quite the same as, the Talented’s preternatural spotlessness. “How—did you—”
“How did I find you?” Harrison didn’t move from his spot in the doorway. “It wasn’t difficult, once I received word you were here. I apologize for the delay—I only recently found out.” He glanced at Errin, then back at Stone. “I also must apologize that I’ll be unable to remain here at the moment. I’ve some urgent matters I must attend to, but I hope you’ll join me later tonight. I’m quite interested to find out why you’re here.”
“Wait,” Stone protested, leaping up. “You’ve only just got here and you’re leaving again?”
“Only until this evening, but I wanted to assure you that you are safe here. I understand you’ve been through some difficult experiences.”
“That’s a bloody understatement,” he said, unconsciously echoing his earlier thought. He suspected he’d be getting quite a lot of mileage out of it over the foreseeable future.
“Errin can answer many of your questions. She is not a mage, but she should be able to satisfy most of your curiosity. Anything else, I can answer tonight.” He made a slight bow. “Until then, Dr. Stone—I am pleased to see you, and I look forward to our conversation later.”
Before Stone could protest again, he departed.
Stone let his breath out. “Well. All right, then.”
Errin chuckled. “He’s like that. You get used to him eventually. Now—about those questions. We can stay here and talk, or we can take a walk. I’d imagine you might like to stretch your legs a bit, and get out in the sun.”
“Yes. Let’s walk.” He did want to stretch his legs, but he also wanted to get a better look around wherever this was.
“Good. I’ll show you around,” she said, as if anticipating his thought.
The moment they stepped outside, Stone knew they were neither in Drendell nor in Temolan. Gone were the mage city’s tall, pale spires, or Drendell’s gritty urban brick structures and grimy abandoned vehicles. Instead he saw neat, meandering streets dotted at wide intervals with buildings. Some were obviously homes, while a cluster of them appeared to be a small business district. Beyond them, Stone spotted rolling hills and what looked like large swaths of orchards, farms, and ranchland. Past those, things faded to a haze he couldn’t see past. “What is this?” he asked. “Some kind of rural community?”
“Not exactly. Welcome to New Argana.”
“What is New Argana? Another town, like Drendell?” Clearly they weren’t floating, so this couldn’t be another of the mages’ cities unless somebody around here had truly world-class illusionary skills.
“Not exactly.” As they drew away from the house and into the street, Errin gently gripped Stone’s shoulders and turned him around to face behind him.
Once again, he gaped. He couldn’t help it.
Rising up out of a craggy hill some distance away was an enormous black tower, stretching up so high that its upper floors were lost among swirling clouds. From this far away he couldn’t see any features on it aside from a few faint blue flickers that danced around it like tiny lightning strikes, but even in his mund
ane state he had no doubt this thing had to be deeply, profoundly magical. “What the hell—?”
“That’s the Nexus,” Errin said. “The center of our little settlement here.”
“The…Nexus?”
“Trevor’s tower. He’ll explain more to you about it tonight—that’s the magic stuff I don’t get involved in, and he explains it better than I do anyway, trust me. Come on—let’s keep going.”
Stone could barely tear his gaze away from the black tower, which bore more than a passing resemblance to a rougher, more organic version of the Obsidian back on Earth—but after a few seconds he hurried to catch up to her. She wasn’t answering questions—she was adding more! He supposed he should start somewhere before things got out of hand. “Where is this place? New Argana, you called it?”
“In the middle of the Wastes—far enough in that none of the Talented would ever dare try to find it, even if we weren’t fully protected.”
“The Wastes?”
She glanced at him. “I guess you’re going to need to tell me what you already know.”
As they walked down the pleasant street—no cracks or potholes, Stone thought idly—two more people passed them. The middle-aged man and woman were both dressed in the same simple, well-made style of clothing Stone wore.
“Hello,” the woman called, waving. “Beautiful day.”
“It is,” Errin agreed. To Stone, she said, “These are Lanytha and Balen.” She nodded toward Stone. “And this is…Alastair. He just arrived last night.”
“Pleasure,” Stone said. He’d noticed long ago that nobody shook hands on this world, so he didn’t offer his.