by Peter Last
“Lemin, I think you're going to want to see this,” one of the magicians called.
Lemin pocketed the rock and looked up. The magicians had gathered around something that was holding their unwavering attention. He pushed through the crowd until he could see what they were looking at. A one and a half foot tall Timothy stood in the ring. A rock like the one Lemin had was beside him.
“You're small,” Vladimir said.
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” Timothy said disgustedly.
“So you picked up one of the rocks,” Lemin noted.
“Yes,” Timothy agreed. “It reminded me of someone.”
“Senndra?” Lemin asked. Timothy nodded “Well, it would, wouldn't it?” the elf muttered to himself.
“What was that?” Timothy asked.
“It doesn't matter,” Lemin said with a wave of his hand.
“So you see that Timothy has been shrunk and the only thing you notice is a rock?” Vladimir interjected. “I don't get it.”
“It's because I already know what happened to him,” Lemin said. To Timothy, “Based on your size I'm assuming it's happened twice.”
“That's right,” Timothy said.
“What's happened twice?” someone asked.
“He shrunk,” another magician answered. “Obviously, this is a half-way hall.”
“And what, exactly, is a ‘half-way hall’?” Timothy asked.
“It originated with a man who was renowned for his logical approach to everything,” Lemin began. “This man was so convinced that logic was the supreme medium that if anything could be proven logically, he considered it to be true, even if experience discredited it. One day this man announced that it was useless to try and move around since it was impossible to get anywhere. His reasoning was this: to get from one point to another, it is first necessary to pass through the point halfway between the start and the destination; however, once this halfway point is reached, there is another between the person’s current position and the endpoint and so on and so forth. Of course, experience discredits this argument because people get places they’re traveling to all the time. However, a magician decided to use the idea as inspiration for a spell. The notion was to create a hall, enchanted in such a way that anyone who walks down it would never reach the end. Basically, the spell makes it so that once a person enters the hall, he will be shrunk to half size once he reaches the halfway point of the hall. It doesn’t matter if he only takes ten steps into the hall and then turns around, once he is only five steps from the door that he just entered, he will shrink to half size. In this way, it is impossible to get anywhere in a hall such as this, and it is therefore impossible to escape.”
“But wherever there’s a spell, there is a way to counteract it,” Timothy reasoned. “The only thing left for us to do is figure out how to do that with this particular one.”
“And the only way to figure out how to counteract the spell is with logical thinking,” Vladimir added. “Ironically, that's the exact thing that got us in this mess in the first place.”
“If we’re going to reason logically, then we need to know the facts,” one of the magicians put in. “What do we know about the spell?”
“If you move halfway from your current position to either of the ends of the hall, you will shrink to half your size,” Lemin said immediately.
“So what shrinks you and therefore prevents you from leaving the hall in essence is the simple action of moving,” Timothy concluded. “But if you shrink by moving, doesn’t it seem logical that by doing the opposite you could reverse the spell?”
“The opposite of moving is to not move, to be at rest,” a magician said. “That, however, doesn’t do anything for us except prevent the spell from shrinking us.”
“What if being at rest isn’t the opposite of moving?” Timothy asked suddenly. “It seems to me that moving would be an action, being at rest would be neutral, and the opposite of moving would still have yet to be mentioned.”
“But then what would be the opposite of moving?” someone asked. “Perhaps by walking backwards you could reverse the spell?”
“The spell wouldn’t care which direction you walk,” Timothy said. “The hall simply gauges your progress and shrinks you at the appropriate time. No, the opposite of moving would have to be something else entirely.”
“I think I might have something,” one of the magicians, who was an orc, said. “If you walk forward, you have a speed, that is, you go a certain number of feet in a given minute. If you are not moving, you go zero feet per minute; therefore, the question is, is it possible to go negative feet per minute?”
“You might actually have something there,” Lemin commented. “The question is, then, what is speed?” Timothy’s eyes widened in understanding.
“Speed is relative, isn’t it?” he asked. Lemin nodded.
“What do mean, it's relative?” a magician asked.
“I mean this,” Timothy explained. “Let’s say you’re riding in a carriage at a speed of five miles in one hour. A man is standing by the side of the road, and a fly is in the carriage with you, flying forward at a speed of one mile per hour. To the man on the side of the road, you are traveling at five miles per hour and the fly is traveling at six; however, what is the speed of the man and the fly according to you who are in the carriage?”
“I see,” Vladimir exclaimed. “The fly is traveling at only one mile per hour and the man outside the carriage is moving slower than you are. Since your frame of reference is the carriage, then it appears to you that you have a speed of zero feet per second and that the man outside actually has a speed of less than zero. In essence, he has negative speed, which is exactly what we need to attain to get out of this hall.”
“Following that example, the only way to attain negative speed is if we remain stationary and the hall moves,” Timothy said. “I don’t know how the spell currently on the hall will react with any new magic, but if we can use magic of our own to make the hall move underneath us, we can safely move toward the end of the hall and actually reach it.”
“I have a question,” an elf said. “If moving makes us shrink, and not moving makes us stay the same, then having negative motion would presumably make us get larger?”
“It's possible,” Timothy agreed.
“Then we still have a serious problem,” the magician pointed out. “On the way to the end of the hall, or rather of the end of the hall to us, an infinite number of halfway points will reach us, each time doubling our size. That means we will continue to grow indefinitely.”
“Then the only other thing for us to do would be to stay still,” Vladimir said, “and there isn’t a way out where we are.”
“And there you may be incorrect,” the magician said with a grin. “Sometimes the most complex problems have the simplest answers. All that we have to do is create an exit right where we are.” He pointed at the floor beneath his feet.
“It can’t hurt to try,” Lemin agreed with a smile. He knelt down and rapped on the floor. The sound was not solid as would be expected of stone. It gave a hollow thud like that of a wooden floor.
“And it looks like our host has made the task easy on us,” Lemin said as he stood. He motioned to the orc, who removed a battle axe from his back. Everyone cleared a circle around him as he raised the weapon above his head and swung it at the floor. The wood gave way, and the axe head sank deep before coming to a halt. The work was difficult, but the orc was clearly used to wielding his weapon for extended periods of time. In less than ten minutes, there was a good sized hole in the floor.
“So, this may not be a big deal for you, but what about me?” Timothy asked as he stared through the hole. Though the next floor was only approximately ten feet below, his size made it equivalent to a forty foot drop. “You'll be able to make it with no problem, but I'll be smashed at the bottom.”
“That isn’t necessarily true,” Lemin contradicted. “If the spell only covers this hall, once you're through the floor
you should return to your normal height and be able to land without injury.”
“Should be able to?” Timothy asked incredulously. “That’s doesn’t sound too reassuring.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t a gamble,” Lemin said, and with a grin he jumped into the hole.
Nine
Rita was safe back in Belmoth. Due to injuries she had sustained during the fighting, she had been ordered to remain behind when the majority of the soldiers left to assault Vollexa Temp. She had followed the orders, reluctantly by all outward appearances, but in reality she was quite happy with the arrangement. Some people, she told herself, were suited to battle and wars and all the fighting that accompanied it. Others, on the other hand, were not created to live such a life, and though Rita was willing to do her part, she conceded that she fit into the second category.
Therefore, it was with feelings of joy and relief that she watched the soldiers leave Belmoth and set out for the evil city. She retired to the library to read and relax, but found that the commotion of having an army in the city, commotion she dreadfully hated, had distracted her mind to areas she was loath for it to wander. And so it was that in the silence of the library, her thoughts began to stray from the words of the book in front of her eyes.
“Why?” was the first question to assault her. Of course, the most logical reason was that Molkekk was a power-hungry magician who sought to further his authority by conquest of arms. But then, what was she to make of what Senndra, Lemin, and many of the other soldiers said, that Elohim was in control of everything? If He was indeed so powerful, why had He allowed His grave enemy to invade the country of His people? Perhaps He was not as powerful as everyone seemed to think. Maybe He was just another magician with limited power and was therefore unable to protect His people. Then again, maybe He didn’t even exist; maybe He was just a myth. That would explain everything, Rita decided. Or would it? The army in Belmoth had just driven off an invasion of half a million, a number of soldiers much larger than their own. By all rights, they should have been crushed without any delay. Instead they had miraculously done the impossible. Of course, the followers of Elohim were quick to claim this as His intercession in their daily lives. To them He had just saved the entire country from invasion.
But if Elohim was real, why did He not show himself more readily? Lemin claimed that His desire was to have a personal relationship with everyone, but if that were true, why had Rita never experienced Him? Her parents were devout followers, so she had attended the gatherings of His followers for as long as she could remember. Until four or five years ago she had even believed everything her parents had taught her. She had believed Elohim was the supreme ruler of the whole world. That He was all powerful and could do anything that He wanted. That He rewarded people for serving Him and punished them when they disobeyed Him. But if that were true, why did evil men so often prevail over good people? Did Elohim lack the power to do anything about it, or did He simply not care?
The most oppressive question, however, was “Where do I fit into all of this?” Rita tried to dismiss it with the simple answer that Elohim didn’t exist, so she could not possibly fit into His plans. Every time she tried this approach, the teachings of her parents would return in force, dashing her argument to pieces. No matter how hard she tried, she simply could not deny the fact that He did indeed exist, so she moved on to a different argument. If He was so powerful and important, what interest could He possibly have in her? He was so big, and she was so small, and He couldn’t actually care enough about her to want a relationship with her. That was unimaginable at the very least. This argument silenced most of the questions tumbling through Rita’s mind, and the ones that remained, she pushed away.
Realizing she was not going to find the relaxation she desired in the library, Rita left and headed for the city’s practice field, making a slight detour to retrieve her bow and arrows. Once at the field, she headed for the archery range and placed her weapons down at the first station. The target before her was only twenty five yards away, and she was able to sink her entire quiver of arrows into the bull’s eye. When she had exhausted her arrows, she walked to the target and retrieved them, carefully pulling each from its place in the cloth of the target. She returned to the shooting station, recovered her bow, and headed to a station further down. The target at this station was only fifty yards out and still not much of a challenge for Rita, who easily succeeded in placing all her arrows within the bull’s eye again. The target of the next station was one hundred yards away, a distance more challenging to Rita’s skill. All of her arrows still hit well within the target’s edge, but this time only about half of them hit the bull’s eye.
Rita retrieved her arrows and fired them twice more before gathering her equipment and heading back to her quarters. She returned her weapons to their place with her armor and settled onto her bed to rest after the exercise. Her tired muscles were grateful for the reprieve, but her brain had no wish to rest. Instead, it set off on a train of thought that Rita had never considered until the present moment. What if Elohim did care about her and actually wanted to have a relationship with her?
She was becoming more and more certain of this, but even if that were true it could never be, she realized with dismay. She had once believed in Him and served Him, but then she had turned away. No matter the love He might have for all people, He could never love someone who had turned her back on Him, could He? He wanted His people to live righteous lives, but she had sinned so much. Was it possible that He could forgive her and give her another chance?
No, she decided with despair. There was no way someone as righteous and perfect as Elohim could draw near to someone as sinful as she was.
The feelings that accompanied this revelation surprised her. Not long ago she had been arguing that Elohim did not exist, and now she felt despair and utter hopelessness at the realization that she could never be close to Him, could never follow Him again. Sadly her eyes closed, and a tear tumbled slowly down her cheek. What was the point of even living if she could not live to serve Elohim? She knew now that all of her arguments before had been an attempt to run from Elohim, a God whom she could never approach again, and by making them she had ensured she would never be able to go back to Him, the only one that made life worth living.
These dismal thoughts filled Rita’s brain, causing tears to spill out of her closed eyes. She began to weep silently and then audibly. Soon her entire body was shaking as she poured out the sorrow she had not allowed anyone to see. Eventually her sobbing subsided, and she fell into a light sleep.
As she slept, a dream began to dance before her closed eyes. In the dream, Rita saw her friends locked in combat with Molkekk’s troops. She was shocked to find herself among the ranks of the evil wizard’s army, but her body followed these soldiers as if it had no will of its own. Fiercely the two armies fought, and many fell at the blades of Molkekk’s hoard. The forces of Magessa dwindled until all that remained were a dozen soldiers. Suddenly a legion of dark storm clouds rose up in the east and swept down on the battle. As the clouds drew closer, Rita realized they were actually a host of angels clothed in armor and wielding swords. The armor shimmered, almost as if it was generating light of its own, and the army’s swords were like shafts of pure light. At the head of the army was a man dressed entirely in golden armor of incredible workmanship. On his head was a helmet of gold, and a shield of gold was on his left arm. The device on the shield, a solitary dove, was a mystery to Rita. Doves were most often associated with peace, and yet the leader of this army had one painted on his shield.
Rita did not have time to puzzle over this anomaly because the legions of angels were suddenly upon the two armies. The soldiers of Magessa they passed over without harming, but they hit the army of Molkekk with a ferocity not often seen. Screams of pain and shouts of anger filled the field as their swords flashed time and again, dropping enemies with every swipe.
The angelic advance continued, unhindered by the numbers of Molk
ekk’s army. Every second they came closer to Rita, and then they were upon her. She screamed and dropped to the ground, throwing her hands over her head in a vain attempt to protect herself. The inevitable stabs and slashes never came, and after a minute or two of lying prostrate on the ground, she raised her head to see what was happening. The first thing that she saw was two golden shoes and golden greaves above them. Her gaze continued upward to the belt with a massive two-handed sword hanging from it, then to the golden breastplate, and finally to the man’s head. The man had removed his helmet to reveal a face that wrenched Rita’s heart, for she instantly knew who it was, though she had never seen him before. His features could not be classified as any particular race, but appeared to be a combination of all of them. His hair was close cropped and sandy colored, and sweat dripped freely from it. But what captured Rita the most were the man’s eyes. Love poured out of them and washed over Rita like cool water.
Rita climbed to her feet and reached for her sword. Everything within her screamed for her to stop, and she paused even as her hand was on the hilt of her weapon. She looked again at the man, then at the scene surrounding them. Molkekk’s army had collapsed before the might of the angelic warriors, but even as she watched, a pit opened in the middle of the defeated army. The soldiers screamed as they fell into the hole, and moments later a swarm of beings, as black as night and as dense as a swarm of locusts, rose out of the hole.
These beings appeared at first sight to be more angels, but their appearance was actually quite different. The armor they wore bore not the device of the dove but instead the likeness of a hideous dragon. Their armor was so black that it even appeared to suck light into itself, and their weapons were of every kind. The angels quickly regrouped and prepared for the assault from this new threat. The two armies of beings hit each other with a mighty crash, and a fight like nothing Rita had ever seen commenced. Angels and demons, for that is what the second army was, rained from the sky like hail, and still the battle continued.