The Inner Realm

by Dale Furse

  “But how can we keep him out of danger without interfering?” Shank Two said. “We know Gart, Hankley, and he doesn’t mind sending ripples through his realm whenever he chooses to interfere.”

  A slight ripple every now and then did not harbor complete destruction, and Gods know how far they can bend the rules without smashing them completely. Hankley didn’t like the way the Shanks exchanged glances. He did not have time to wrestle sense out of the Mornt and pushed his chair back. “I have to go. I hope you will do this, but heed Oln’s warning. We have already meddled enough. Oln will look after Gart, of that we can be certain. I’ve already done enough to upset Oln, let’s not give him any more reason to be angry with us.” He stood up. “Just dream thoughts okay?”

  He strode out of the eatery and with a deep, empty breath, rushed into the sanctum’s orb room. His hand grasped the orb, and his voice trembled as he whispered, “Outer Realm.”

  Chapter 12

  Glad Noor and Vala were still asleep when he returned, Mike stretched out on his back along the opposite side of the narrow canyon. He put his arms under his head and stared at the stars. His mind filled with amazement at his meeting with Hankley.

  He might still wake up and find it was all a dream. He frowned. The big man in the long, brown robe appeared as real as he was, and, Mike smiled at the quarter moon, Hankley was going to find out where Terni was. Mike hoped it didn’t take him too long. Wherever the poor kid was, he would be crying and terrified.

  Heat bore through the skin on Mike’s face, and light pierced his eyelids. He opened his eyes, and then snapped them shut. Sitting up with his hands over his eyes, he pushed the sleep from his brain. It didn’t feel like he’d slept for long. Peering up at the sun directly above, he realized it was close to midday.

  Neither of the girls had woken him because they were still asleep. A brown-robed arm appeared from around the cliff. An elongated, pink finger beckoned Mike again.

  Mike regarded the girls. Hankley’s work for sure. He bounded up and ran around the corner.

  A two-headed man in Hankley’s brown robe stood with arms crossed.

  Mike let out a yell and turned to run back to Noor, but a hand grabbed his shoulder. He struggled and tried to shake it loose, but stopped suddenly. Somebody sat and watched the girls sleep. Not somebody—him. He slapped the side of his face, blinked, and looked again. It was definitely him. His Taekwondo suit was dirty and torn, but it was his suit, his face, and his eyes. “Noor,” he screamed as loud as he could, tripling his efforts to get free. “Vala!”

  Mike twisted and turned, using every muscle in his body, but could not escape the two-headed beast.

  “Don’t bother, young human, no one can hear you,” one of the heads said.

  “Yeah, no one can hear you,” said the other.

  Mike stopped struggling and twisted around so he could see the strange man. Both heads looked the same with their lanky, black hair except the one on Mike’s left had one eyelid drooping and hiding the thing’s left eye.

  Two strong hands turned Mike around. “If you try to run off we will not be responsible for any damage you might sustain,” The droopy-eyed head said.

  “Yeah.” The other head rolled both eyes toward the first.

  “We are the Shanks,” Droopy Eye said. “I’m Shank Two, and this is my brother, Shank One.” He leaned forward and spoke out of the corner of his mouth, his saggy eyelid quivering as if it was a curtain caught in a breeze. “Don’t worry about him,” he said. “He’s a little slow.”

  “Hey, I heard that.”

  “And?” Shank Two asked.

  “Yeah,” Shank One admitted. “But nobody would know if you didn’t tell them.”

  Shank Two patted Shank One on the cheek. “You’re right.” He exaggerated the shaking of his head and spoke slowly. “Nobody would know if I didn’t tell them.”

  Mike looked from one to the other and relaxed. He decided both were harmless, but then looked at Hankley’s robe. “Where’s Hankley?”

  “He had to report to Oln,” Shank Two said, then added as if he noticed Mike’s confused gaze at the robe, “This isn’t necessarily Hankley’s robe. There are many brown-robed servants.”

  That made sense. Of course, Hankley wasn’t the only servant to God.

  “Yeah,” Shank One pulled at the side of the robe, “but this one is Hankley’s.”

  “Shush up, One.” Shank Two turned to Mike. “Hankley’s not going to be happy, but we needed his robe to get something. You need to hurry back with the other little boy. The designers are close to finding what went wrong with the wall.”

  “But Hankley said he’d find out where they’re keeping Terni.”

  “Maybe he will when he returns,” said Shank Two.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, maybe you two can help.”

  “We can’t interfere.” Shank Two’s face changed.

  Guilt. He was guilty about something. “You’re already interfering by talking to me, aren’t you? And you said you brought me something?”

  Both Shanks looked at their sandals and were silent.

  “We could tell him where he is,” Shank Two said to One. “We wouldn’t really be interfering. Hankley said he would anyway.”

  “Yeah, and we wouldn’t really be interfering,” One agreed. “Not any more than we have already.”

  “Shush, One.” Shank Two rubbed his droopy eye.

  Shank One scratched the back of his head.

  Mike’s heartbeat quickened. “You know where Terni is?”

  “We searched him out before we descended, but we can only tell you he is in a cave in the mountain that falls to the sea.”

  “Yeah, the sea.”

  Shank Two frowned at Shank One, but smiled at Mike. “You’re headed in the right direction.”

  “We were following the bandits who took him.”

  “Yes, the bandits,” Shank Two said. “They might be a problem.”

  “Can’t you do something to them? Make them disappear?”

  “No, we couldn’t.”

  “Yeah, that would really be wrong.”

  “Now, where was I?” Shank Two began.

  “The bandits?” Shank One said.

  “Very good, One. Yes, the bandits.” He looked at Mike, held out his hands, and a sword appeared in them.

  “A sword? I can’t use a sword. I practice Taekwondo, not fencing. I’m not too bad with a gun though. Do you have any?”

  “We have no guns, and Taekwondo is of no use against arrows.”

  “And a sword is?”

  “Yeah, a sword is.”

  “Shush, One. Now, Mike, take the sword of Dragonlee, and stand near the rock over there.”

  Mike turned his head to where Shank Two raised his chin. When he turned back, the sword dangled in Mike’s face.

  “Go on,” said Shank Two.

  The sword was beautiful. It had a bone shaft, and a gold hilt inlaid with red, green and black gems. It looked heavy, but when Mike held it, it was light as a hollow stick. He didn’t know what the Shanks were up to though like Hankley, he had no sense of danger from them. He walked to the rock and spun on his heels to face them.

  Shank One produced a bow out of the thin air.

  “Hey,” Mike yelled. He tried to move, but his feet stayed firmly planted to the ground like the roots of a tree.

  Shank Two put an arrow in the bow.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Panic rose in Mike’s chest and leapt into his throat. They meant to shoot him. Two’s right arm pulled the arrow back and released it in one motion. Without thinking, Mike raised the sword and the arrow hit the blade before it fell to the ground at his feet. His legs turned liquid and he fell to his knees.

  The Shanks glided to him. “Sorry,” Shank Two said.

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  Shank Two gave One an impatient glare and spoke to Mike. “It was the only way we figured you’d believe us. Please forgive us.”

  Mike looked up a
t real concern in the Shanks’ faces. They needed his forgiveness. It was the opposite of what Mike had been taught, but if the servants or angels or whatever they were, needed his forgiveness for tricking him, they wouldn’t get it that easily.

  The muscles in Mike’s legs tightened and he stood up. “You could get into trouble for tricking me, couldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, trouble.”

  “One, how many times do I have to tell you to be quiet?”

  “Sorry.”

  Mike felt sorry for them. Their faces were white and fear filled their eyes. What would Oln do to them? He assumed all gods were fierce, and he didn’t want the Shanks to get hurt. He actually quite liked them. “I forgive you, but only if you lead us to the cave and Terni.”

  They eyed each other, not speaking.

  “Look. I am really starting to get sick of this madness. Your god should be the one helping us anyway. Isn’t it his responsibility to make sure people don’t just walk onto other worlds? Why isn’t he doing something?”

  “The gods do seem mad sometimes,” Shank Two said. “However, in spite of their funny ways, they do have reasons for what they do. We hardly ever know the reasons, but we trust our Oln.”

  “Yeah, Oln does care.”

  Ugh, it was like talking to the most dim-witted dimwits of all time. “All right then, you can at least help us find Terni.”

  They gazed at one another again.

  Two shrugged his shoulder. “We can do that.”

  “Yeah, we can do that.”

  “Great.” Twirling the sword in one hand, Mike laughed. “Hey, I’m not bad at this, am I?”

  “The sword is powerful, and you must understand the power,” Shank Two said. “You should practice.” Another sword appeared in Two’s hand. It looked as sharp, but not nearly as ornate.

  Shank Two held it vertically against his nose, and One pulled his left arm behind him, fingers raised from his crooked elbow, as if waiting for Mike to begin the duel.

  The sword quivered in Mike’s hand. His hand tightened and twisted the sword so it was horizontal to Shanks’ sword. A pulsating energy passed from the sword through Mike’s body. His nerves jingled in excitement, but he hesitated. “What if I hurt you?”

  “You can’t hurt us.”

  “Yeah.”

  Mike had seen enough pirate movies to have a small idea of what to do. Like a swashbuckler, he jumped on the rock and brought down the sword on Two’s head. Shank Two easily blocked the strike, pushed Mike’s sword away, and jumped to the side. “You’ll have to be quicker,” Two said. “Even with a magical sword, you’re still mortal.”

  “Yeah, still mortal. That was fun. Let’s do it again.” Again, One held a crooked arm up behind him in fencing-ready mode.

  Mike leapt and spun his body in the air. He dropped and rolled under Shanks’ sword, using the momentum to land on his feet while smacking his sword down hard on Two’s blade. The clang of metal hitting metal rang through the air. Mike stilled. His arm vibrated from the impact, and a chill crept up his spine. Sword fights never sounded ugly in movies. In movies, the clash of sword against sword sounded fun.

  He tossed the sword up in the air and caught it again. He would have to get used to the sound. This was his chance to save Terni and he was not going to throw it away. His lips stretched into a smile. He wanted to clash swords with one person in particular. He needed to get Terni away from the cowardly creep who had hit the kid.

  “You don’t have to kill anyone.” Shank Two said. “You have to make them understand they cannot win.”

  “Yeah,” Shank One said, apparently catching up with the conversation.

  “Okay.” Mike thought about the amazing move he had made to get on top of the Shanks’ in the fight. “I’ll take it.” The sword throbbed in his hand as if it was happy with the decision. “I’m not against giving those bandits a lesson, but let’s hope I don’t have to kill anybody.”

  “That will be up to you.”

  “Yeah, that’s up to you.” One smiled a wide toothy smile.

  Mike couldn’t help smiling back. “Thanks.”

  Two’s eyes scanned Mike’s clothes. “You nearly tripped on that.” He pointed to a dangling bit of his Taekwondo breeches. “If you did, the outcome would have been very different.”

  Mike’s mother would have a fit when she saw the state of his Dobok. He used the sword to start a tear in both legs at about knee height, and then ripped around to form long shorts.

  Two nodded his head toward Mike’s arms.

  Sighing, Mike repeated the actions to shorten his sleeves.

  “Much more practical.”

  “Yeah, looks good.”

  Mike felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I thought you always repeated what your brother said.”

  One grinned. “Not always.” A bag appeared in his hand. “Put this on.”

  Taking the bag, Mike studied it.

  “It’s the sword’s sheath.” Two took the bag, pulled it over Mike’s head, and positioned it on his back. “You will need to practice withdrawing it smoothly.”

  “Okay,” said Mike. He slipped the sword into its home, lowered his arms to his sides, then reached back and pulled the sword free.

  “Quicker,” Two said.

  “Yeah, and smoother or you’ll cut right through the sheath and into your back.”

  “Okay, I’ll practice while we travel.”

  When Mike got back to the girls, he turned to make sure the Shanks followed, but they were nowhere in sight. “Shanks,” Mike called in a loud whisper.

  “We’re here.”

  “Yeah, we’re here.”

  Mike closed his eyes in relief. “Can the girls hear you?”

  “No, only you.”

  “Yeah, only you.”

  “Good.”

  As Mike approached the still sleeping Vala, his duplicate body faded away. She didn’t arouse when Mike half knelt, half fell by her side. The sword clanged against the rocky cliff face. He gently shook her shoulder. “Vala? Wake up.” But she didn’t move. He shook harder. Her head rolled from side to side, but she still didn’t wake. “Vala,” he cried. She looked dead. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He spun his head, and his eyes darted in all directions. “There’s something wrong,” he said to the air around him.

  “Yeah, something’s wrong.”

  “Is she dead?” Mike asked.

  “No,” Shanks’ Two’s voice said. “Not dead, but she has a high fever. Your friend is very ill.”

  “You have to help her. You have to save her.”

  “No, we can’t. But I do have a suggestion.” Two’s face appeared, disembodied. “There are bushes on the cliff tops. You could make a bed of branches. Put Vala on it and drag her behind you.”

  Mike widened his eyes. Of course. “Like a stretcher, you mean?”

  “Yeah, like a stretcher.” Shank One’s face appeared beside his brother.

  “Lay the sword beside her,” Shank Two said. “It will give her strength.”

  Mike did and looked around for an easy path to climb to the top of the ravine.

  “Right,” Mike said and continued to search for a possible path. He chose what appeared to be a more manageable route and began to climb. Thankful the ascent was reasonably easy, he coped until he was about half-way up, where the precipice straightened to almost vertical. He hadn’t noticed that when he was on the ground.

  The rocky face didn’t have anything to hang on to. Should he go back down and find an easier way? He browsed the cliff. Everywhere looked just as difficult as, or worse than, where he already hung. Decision made, he stretched his arm up higher, and his fingers closed around a dead root refusing to loosen its grip on the dirt. With one leg pulled up as high as he dared, he felt for a foothold. He found one, pulled his body up, and threw his other arm high. His hand found a rock and his shoe, another foothold. His muscles bulged to their limit, tension racking his body. The success of his climb electrified his sinews and p
ushed him upward.

  Only a few steps from the top, he could find nothing for his hands to clutch. Sweat dripped from his hairline and bit into his eyes - he panted.

  “Don’t look down,” Shank Two spoke close to his ear.

  Too late. Mike was already gazing at the ground far below him by the time Two had finished his sentence. He could only just make out Vala below. His head swam. An unseen force seemed to try to pull him backwards to his death. Its invisible hands snatched at him.

  “Look up, Mike.”

  “Yeah, look up.”

  Although Mike heard them, he could not take his eyes off the ground. If he fell, he would fall on Vala and kill her for sure. He couldn’t believe how high he’d climbed.

  “Mike, you’ll have to move a little to your right. You can grab a dead branch. Mike, grab the branch.”

  “Yeah, grab the branch. It is just there. Look up.”

  “Mike!” Shank Two’s voice boomed and echoed around the canyons.

  Mike blinked as he felt the vibrations of Two’s voice through the air around him. As if coming out of a trance, he peered up and waited for his eyes to focus.

  “To your right,” Shank Two said.

  Mike looked. There was a brown shriveled up root of a long dead tree.

  He held his breath, kept his eyes focused on his target, and flung his arm and body up and to the right. His fingers closed around the root, and he dangled from one arm for a second before concentrating on his left foot. Trying not to wriggle too much in case the weight of his body dislodged the root, he moved his sneaker clad foot up, down, and side to side until the tip of his shoe found an indentation. Only his two largest toes found solid ground, but the cleft was deep enough to give him time to find another stronger and sturdier root for his right foot to stand on. He forced himself to open his eyes. He would not look down again.

  After minutes of stretching his arm as high as he could, a painful knot formed in his upper right, arm muscle. Unless he wanted to fall, he had to continue scraping and clawing higher and higher. Sweat dripped over his temples and into his ears. An itch erupted in his left ear. As he rubbed his ear against his shoulder, the dead, gnarly piece of wood his right hand clasped shook and lengthened.