The Forgotten World

by R Gene Curtis

  The tower we are leaving now is by far the largest. The others are smaller, but taller. It’s a long walk between towers—this place is huge. A fortress out of the middle ages. Stone walls, open windows, servants, and gardens.

  As we approach the second tower entrance, Buen points to the third tower and says, “Wynn.” He makes a few hand gestures. I’m not to go anywhere near Wynn’s tower.

  That means that I’m probably going to be staying here. How long will I be here? Am I a prisoner?

  I will have to learn the language. But it’s up to me now. I have a fresh start, and I’m going to make the best of it.

  We enter the second tower and Buen leads the way up a winding staircase. After four flights of stairs, we enter a long hallway lined with large wooden doors. Each door has writing etched into it.

  At the end of the hallway, Buen points to the writing on the door. “K-a-r-u” he reads, pointing at four symbols that have been carefully carved into the door. Seriously? They already have my name etched into this door with such ornate workmanship?

  Buen raps on the door. A girl answers and bows like Buen did to Wynn. Buen gestures for me to raise my hand. I mimic the motion, and the girl steps quietly to the side and we walk into the room. She wears the same blue wrap the men servants wear, but she has hair—her black hair is long in a braid down her back—and she wears a loose-fitting tank top that covers her down to her midriff. She’s small and slender, probably about 18. She doesn’t meet my eyes as I enter the room.

  Like everything else in the castle, this room is huge. A large bed stands in one corner, a shower and bath area on the opposite wall. A wardrobe is dwarfed against the far wall.

  Buen speaks to the girl, motioning to me. Our eyes meet for a moment, and then her eyes return to the floor. When Buen stops talking, she bows and walks over to the wardrobe. It’s full of black robes, identical to the ones Buen and I wear.

  She takes one of the robes off its hanger and sets it gently on a chair next to the wardrobe before she returns to where I’m standing. Buen wanders to the window across the room. I move to follow him, but he shakes his head and I return to the center of the room.

  The girl steps up to me and grabs my robe. I step back and put up my hands. “Hey!” I say. “What are you doing?”

  The girl jumps and steps back, averting her eyes. She says something quietly, and Buen walks back over. He glares at me and motions towards the girl. It doesn’t look like I have a choice here. Besides, I’m sick of this robe that smells of someone else’s sweat and urine. This time I let the girl strip it off. She has to pull hard to get it away from my fat body. Talk about an awkward first meeting.

  Naked now, the wind from the breeze through the room cools my skin. It should feel nice, but I’m too self-conscious to enjoy it. I stand in the middle of the room, unsure what to do as the girl puts the dirty robe away and retrieves the new robe she selected earlier. Even though I’ve been naked for the better part of the past week, I feel more self-conscious now.

  When the girl turns around, she seems surprised to see me watching her. She motions to the bathing area of the room. I walk over, but I have no idea what to do. Everything is made of smooth stone, there is a hole in the wall and in the floor. I look back at the girl stupidly.

  Her eyes go to the floor and she speaks quietly. Buen laughs and says something in return. She walks across the room and pulls a rope next to the hole in the wall. A stream of cool water comes out of the wall and hits my bare skin. I gasp as the water hits me, but it’s refreshing.

  The girl hands me something that turns out to be soap, and I bathe. Even though I’m bathing in the open in front of these two people, I almost enjoy it. It gives me a chance to marvel at the change in my body. It was so bruised and broken, but now my skin is new and soft. All traces of my suffering are gone.

  When I finish, the girl hands me a towel and helps me put on the new black robe. This one is just as tight around my middle, but I’m glad to be clothed again.

  Buen leaves his spot at the window and gives me a once-over. He nods his approval and then walks around the room, pointing at everything as if explaining what each thing is. There is something that could be a toilet, the large bed, the washing area, and some kind of adjacent room in a corner.

  Done with the tour, Buen speaks to the girl, and she bows and retreats into an adjacent room. There isn’t a door on it, and it isn’t lighted. Then Buen leaves, and I’m alone.

  Is he coming back? Is the girl still here, or does the that door lead out of the room? Is there something that I’m supposed to be doing?

  I look out the window. It’s about 80 feet down to the moat. The breeze rustles through the robe and cools my skin. That feels good.

  I check out the adjacent room and find the girl sitting on a small mat. This isn’t a room: it’s more like a closet with nothing in it. She meets my eyes from the shadow of the room, and I blush and hurry away.

  Since I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, I lie down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Most of the castle walls and ceilings are bare stone, but I’ve noticed an etched pattern on at least one stone in every room I’ve entered. This room is no different. Above my bed is the same design, carved into one of the stones at the top of the wall. The etching isn’t into the rock, however, which has been plated with copper. From here, I can make out the design enough to guess that it might be a man in a robe. His back is turned and fog surrounds him.

  I don’t study the design for more than a few minutes before my eyes get heavy.

  Earlier today, I thought I would die. Now, I’m lying on a clean bed in a castle with clean clothes. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, or how long my life is going to be, but it’s time for me to change. It’s time for me to be better. It’s time for me to think about others.

  29 Redirection

  Lydia

  “Let’s stop here,” Ziru calls back. Tran and Ler find a large rock and place me on it. They put the hammock carrier I have grown to hate next to me. I give it a little shove, and it falls off the rock and into the dirt as the men leave.

  “Thank you!” I call after them, straightening my sore body and trying to ignore the pain in my swollen leg. I hope I didn’t offend them by pushing the carrier into the dirt. I’m grateful, though it has been a long five days, grinding my teeth in pain, mile after mile. The trail followed the border between the mountain and valley until this morning when it turned up a steep canyon. I’m hoping we’ll find Keeper just up this trail.

  Left alone in the quiet, I look around for Mara but don’t see her. Scrub oak surrounds me. Now that we’ve turned up the canyon, it won’t be far before the forest turns back into pine. Mountains tower in the distance. This canyon ascends a long way.

  A breeze combs through my hair. I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh mountain air. I do love mountains. It’s hard to remember that while swinging around in pain. It’s just as beautiful here as it was at Mount Rainier.

  I wish Brit was here. I hope she’s doing okay now. I hope that the team ended up winning the PAC-12.

  After a few minutes, the men return with some esculent plants. I take what is given me and gnaw on one of the roots.

  “Are we getting close to Keeper?”

  “Keeper is over this hill,” Tran’s voice is just as annoyed as always.

  I’m surprised. We have an hour or so of daylight left, and if we are so close, why did we stop here? Surely the village has better food than this.

  Tran laughs. “Our beet-red cripple thinks we stopped too soon.”

  I blush, but no one can tell since my fair skin has burned bright red in the thin mountain air. I can see it on my arms, and I can feel it on my face. Add my unruly hair to it, and I’m sure I’m quite the spectacle.

  “Tran,” Ziru says, and his voice is sharp. “We found the Blue Princess, and we have done our duty to bring her to Keeper. There are those here who will do the same, no matter what Arujan did when he was here.”
>
  “That’s easy for you to say. You haven’t carried her for the past five days. I don’t think these people will believe this cripple is the princess.”

  Tran can’t be much older than me, and yet he calls me girl like I’m a three-year-old child. Yet, he carried me here, which makes me beholden to him. That makes me like him even less.

  “Even if they’re all on Aurjan’s side,” Ler says, “their jail cells have to be warmer than sleeping out under the stars!” He laughs at his joke, although no one else joins in. Perhaps we are all are tired of shivering all night in the cold mountain air.

  Tran glares at me when I toss the rest of the root into a bush.

  I don’t return his glare. His words echo my own thoughts. I look awful, and I have also wondered if anyone outside this small circle will accept me as a princess. Cadah told me all sorts of legends, but what happens when I don’t live up to the hoopla? In this violent, desperate world, I feel like a fungible commodity, a hero ready to be swapped out for something more promising as soon as it presents itself.

  We all jump at the sound of rustling in the trees.

  “Ler! Is that you?” a high-pitched voice shrieks.

  Ler stands just in time to embrace a young woman with long blonde hair. She laughs and holds him tightly. Although Ler doesn’t show the same enthusiasm, he does hug her back.

  “Hello Sharue,” he says.

  “I had no idea you were coming,” she says, finally stepping back and pulling hair out of her face. She’s an attractive woman, with features not too different from mine. The main difference is her straight, beautiful hair and her still-white skin. I stay still, hoping I will blend into the rock.

  Ler doesn’t respond, and Sharue’s eyes dart around like a gnat, taking us all in.

  Another girl comes down the path and stops at the edge of the clearing. She hides in the shadows, like Mara, wherever she is.

  “We brought the Blue Princess with us.”

  Sharue’s mouth falls open. “The Blue Princess! She shows up now? You can’t possibly be serious.” Her gnat-like eyes find me, and her face gets dark. “You think she’s one of these two girls? The frizzled red-face cripple or the woman hiding in the bushes?”

  How does she know I’m a cripple? I want to crawl under the rock I’m sitting on.

  “She has the mark of the blue flower,” Ziru says, standing up next to his son. His presence, though commanding, doesn’t faze Sharue in the same way I’ve seen it faze so many others. She laughs and gives him a hug. The other girl stares at me. I shift uncomfortably on my rock and wish she would look somewhere else.

  “What is the mark of the blue flower?”

  If these people don’t know about the mark of the blue flower, I have no reason to be here. Did Ziru make it all up?

  “Show her the mark,” Tran says impatiently.

  I pull down my shirt hesitantly.

  Sharue barely glances at me before laughing again. “Anyone can walk around with a strange mark. It seems like you’ve been deceived.”

  “She came through the portal; she has the mark. We have done as tradition demands and brought her here,” Ziru says. His voice doesn’t reveal any of the panic I’m feeling.

  Sharue walks slowly to where I’m sitting, smiling in a way that makes me feel like I really am the little girl Tran thinks I am. “If she is a princess,” she says in a voice one would use to talk to a young child, “then she must have blue blood.”

  I meet Sharue’s cold eyes. “I have the mark, but I have red blood like everyone else.”

  “Then you admit to lying to these people?” Her expression is not friendly.

  “I never lied to them,” I say softly. “I came through the portal and they asked to see my mark.”

  Sharue takes my hand, her strong fingers closing tight around my wrist. She pulls a knife out of her pouch with her other hand. I try to move away, but I stop when my leg hurts.

  “Then you won’t mind showing me your red blood.” She rests the blade across my palm.

  “Dearest Ler,” she says, her eyes locked into mine. “Don’t your traditions tell you that the Blue Princess must have blue blood? It isn’t a hard thing to check.”

  Ler doesn’t stop her. I sit still, watching the dagger as it slices through the first layer of skin on my hand.

  When my blood comes out red, will Sharue place the dagger in my heart? I’ve seen a lot of death these last few days—Cadah and Karl. This entire trip has been a disaster. Is this how it ends?

  Sharue laughs again and puts more pressure on the blade. The next layer of skin splits and I cry out with the shock of the pain. Blood comes out of my hand. It seeps onto the knife blade and trickles down my palm.

  At least I think it’s blood. The liquid coming out of my hand is blue. A dark royal blue. The blood traces my palm and runs down my arm. Mara suddenly appears and pushes Sharue away from me. She wraps a white cloth around my hand. It’s almost immediately died blue.

  “You didn’t have to cut her so deeply,” Mara says softly, but she’s ignored by everyone. I smile at her, but she doesn’t smile back.

  “Well Sharue,” Ziru puts his arm around her shoulders. “That was the bluest blood I’ve ever seen.”

  My hand hurts.

  “We’ll take her to the chamber.” Sharue’s smirk is gone, and she’s all business. “We can get you settled after that. You’re planning to be here a while, right?”

  I start at the idea of staying a few days before I realize I don’t have to hurry back for Karl. Karl is dead. Probably. As anxious as I am to find out what is waiting for me in Keeper, I don’t have any pressing reason to hurry. Aside from finding a doctor to save my leg so I can walk again.

  Ler and Tran put me in the hammock carrier. I steady myself with my hand, which hurts, and try to balance my leg, which hurts. Every step of this journey leaves me more incapacitated.

  After another long walk, the trail ends at the base of a steep cliff. Rugged rocks jut out of the ground and go up hundreds of feet, creating a solid wall of dark brown stone. Strong gusts of wind stir up piles of leaves next to the cliff, which fly around us.

  Sharue pokes around in the piles of leaves until she uncovers a rock that protrudes about two feet from the ground.

  “This is the portal.” She motions for Ler and Tran, and they set me on the ground next to the rock.

  I look around uncertainly. The men step back to stand next to Ziru. There aren’t any trees for Mara here, and so she stands huddled next to the cliff, not quite blending in and clutching Jarra against her bosom.

  I’m not the only one who wishes she were somewhere else.

  Who am I fooling? I’m not a princess! I can’t help these people. What I need is to go home and find a doctor. And a mental health professional to help me work through Karl and Cadah’s deaths.

  The hot sun beats down and makes me sweat, but the cool wind makes me shiver. I turn my attention away from my doubts to the small rock that is already collecting leaves again. It has a flat side, tilting away from the trail. A print of a hand is carved somehow into the middle of the rock.

  A left hand. Maybe that is why Sharue cut my right hand.

  I try to ignore the people watching me and run my fingers along the edges of the stone. I place my hand over the print. A flash of blue light bursts out of the rock, and I try to pull it back.

  But I can no longer move my hand. Although nothing looks different, my hand is stuck, held on by some powerful force. The ground shifts. Then it dissolves. My legs drop beneath me, and in a matter of seconds I’m hanging by my arm, which is still attached to the stone. And in that moment, my hand jerks free, and I drop into the hole.

  I fall three feet before I hit a smooth surface and I slide on my backside down a long winding tunnel. Moments later, I come to a stop in a pile of dirt. I curl into a crumpled ball and moan. I hear rocks above me, and soon I can no longer see sunlight.

  Eventually, my head clears enough for me to look around. I’
m in a dim candle-lit chamber. It’s shaped in a perfect circle, with a flat roof and a dirt floor. The walls and ceiling—made of smooth marble—reflect the light of five candles. The chamber is completely empty, with no hint of how there are burning candles down here at all.

  There is no way I can get back up that slide—it looks like I’m stuck in here.

  A small man appears out of nowhere on the far side of the room. He’s short, bent over, and has bright white hair. He holds himself up with a cane, and in the dim light he looks transparent.

  “Hello,” he says in a soft voice that echoes around the chamber. “Is that you, Wynn?” He beckons to me, and when no other options present themselves, I crawl toward him.

  “I cannot kill you here, Wynn, but I will not help you either.”

  “I’m not Wynn,” I say.

  “You are not Wynn,” he repeats.

  “No,” I say. As I get closer the man looks more like a hologram, an illusion. I don’t know how he can have any idea who I’m.

  The man frowns, his eyes looking at where my face would be if I were standing up. “You’re here, which means something has gone wrong. Has Wynn killed Togan? Are you here to be trained?”

  I’m not sure how to respond, and so I say nothing. The man nods after a moment. This man is a hologram, a memory. He can’t see me, which is probably a good thing.

  “This is only your first stop,” he says, “on a journey of knowledge. Everything you need to know is in these mountains, protected by magic. Only a true descendant of Togan, like yourself, can access it.”

  My heart quickens at the mention of my descent, but I don’t let my hopes get too high. After all, how could I be descended from Togan? Did he have a mistress in America like Kinni? That doesn’t explain the blue light and my appearance in Seattle. Togan lived hundreds of years ago—he isn’t the key to finding out who my parents are.