by M. L. Ryan
Being able to move virtually instantaneously from one spot to another—even at considerable distance—was a perk with which all Courso were blessed. To avoid someone “popping” into one’s home or business uninvited, most buildings were built with a thin layer of the rare-earth element praseodymium, which somehow prevented magical travel.
“I wasn’t, but thanks anyway for the information.” To Alex, I asked, “Is this really where you and your family went for summer vacation? It seems kind of, I don’t know…”
“Dark and creepy?” Alex offered. “The name is actually a play on words. In Courso, the word for summer is hydyloj, which is similar to hyjylod, the term for citadel. Originally, the ancient Courso who constructed this didn’t want to let on that this was a protected, fortified stronghold, so they called it the hydyloj dryxdamitoj—summer residence—so as not to alarm the people if the royals had to flee there.”
He glanced up at the thick walls looming above us. “Actually, I’ve only been here a few times before with Sebastian when we were training. There is so much praseodymium that it interferes with all kinds of magic. If you practice under those conditions, you eventually learn to adjust.”
“Interferes how?”
“It can make even the easiest of tasks much more unpredictable. Like trying to walk under water. You can do it, but it takes a lot longer and with considerable effort.”
I thought about that for a minute. “Won’t that make it more difficult to fight against Doc if he comes here?”
“No, carisa, all the guards and staff have been acclimatized. The only one who might have problems would be Doc.”
“And me,” I said, frowning.
Sebastian chuckled. “You should be fine, my dear. If anything, your propensity for wild magical feats will be lessened. If it makes you feel any better, even though we have considerable experience with the conditions here, it will take Alexander and me a day or so to readjust.”
It didn’t, but I figured Alex and Sebastian knew what they were doing. Now that I thought about it, I did detect some sort of vague something in the air—a tingling, maybe?—that made me feel a little off. Must be the praseodymium effect.
Loopy and Cratey had set the cage off to our left. Rufus still seemed positively thrilled with his current situation and added a lolling tongue to the persistent tail wagging. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything around here for miles,” I noted. “Where’s Rufus going?”
Alex signaled for them to continue ahead of us. “He will be housed in the lower level of the Residence. You can visit whenever you wish, and Sebastian and I can keep an eye on him until we figure out what, exactly, he is.”
“He’s a dog,” I repeated for what felt like the thousandth time today.
Guiding me forward, Alex said quietly, “Perhaps. We just need to be certain.”
I watched as Loopy and Cratey left with Rufus. Cortez followed; I felt better that someone the dog knew was going to the doggie dungeon, or wherever they were taking him. At least Rufus wasn’t having a fit as he was carried away. If he’d howled, I’d have gone with him.
While the outside of the royal fortress looked like something out of an old, black-and-white B-grade horror flick, the inside was surprisingly homey. The furnishings in the entryway in which we stood were not as opulent as those in the palace at Azeryx, but we were definitely not slumming. The stone walls and fifteen-foot ceilings still gave the interior a rather imposing feel, but at least we weren’t greeted at the massive front door by a candelabra-wielding housekeeper whose name spoken aloud made horses whinny in terror.
We were, however, welcomed by a legion of royal guards who patrolled both the perimeter and throughout the building. They wore the same impressive, form-fitting uniforms and knee-high black boots I’d seen before, but their shiny metal helmets had been replaced by head coverings better suited for actual combat. And whereas during my previous visit the guards were businesslike but relaxed, now the tension was unmistakable. Even though Alex and Sebastian were well known, the guards weren’t taking any chances with security. Before we were escorted further inside, both had to answer a series of questions to prove they were who they appeared to be. I had no idea what they were asked, but I was fairly certain they didn’t have to correctly name their first pet or their place of birth. Once they were identified to the guards’ satisfaction, we were ushered through another large door into a long passageway.
Two rather dour women, both clad in black, floor-length hooded robes, stood about fifteen feet down the hall. They silently motioned for us to approach and, as we moved closer, they turned to face each other. Raising their hands over the space so that their fingers barely touched, they formed a sort of archway between them. It reminded me of the post-game parent tunnels at kid’s soccer games, and I had to fight the urge to high-five them as I walked through.
“What the hell was that?” I whispered to Alex as we waited for Sebastian to file under the living pass-through.
“These women are Styrixchnia; they possess a unique ability to sense one’s intentions. If any of us were planning something nefarious, they would detect it.”
“I can sort of wrap my head around the ability to pick up on a person’s emotions, but why is the luggage now being brought past them? Can they sense the mental state of the person who packed the bags?”
Alex chuckled. “Oh no. Oddly, Styrixchnia can also detect metal. They are often employed as the Courso equivalent to your airport security screeners.”
I couldn’t tell for sure if he was kidding, but given all the other bizarrities in this dimension, there probably was some link between being able to magically sift through a person’s emotions and their carry-on luggage. Maybe metal objects and diabolical plans give off the same type of radiation or something. If that’s the case, hopefully the Styrixchnia didn’t encounter many teens with braces.
Once we had successfully passed the final security check, we were ushered through yet another humungous door and into a ginormous sitting room. Ah, yes. This is more what a royal home should look like, I thought as I gazed at the fancy furniture and massive tapestries that lined the walls. I walked over to one of the hangings but, before I had a chance to really examine the artwork, Alex’s mother and father made their entrance.
There wasn’t a blaring of horns or some deep-voiced minion heralding the arrival of the Queen and the King Consort, but somehow they made their presence known. They just filled a room in a way that demanded recognition without need for introduction. Fortunately, the king allowed me to call him by his nickname, Wyx, because his full moniker—Wyxinorolyxazam—was a real tongue twister. To keep things equal, I referred to the Queen as Rexa, rather than Rexanatyxa, at least in my head. She hadn’t actually said how I should address her, so when I had to get her attention, I just called her, ‘Ma’am.’
Once the usual familial greetings were dispensed with, everyone sat down on the plush furniture to get the latest update on Doc’s wave of terror. The volcanic eruptions had settled down for the most part, but thousands and thousands of people were either homeless or still evacuated and the current death toll worldwide had reached almost three hundred. It was a good thing he didn’t decide to make his point in the human dimension where the death toll would have been in the tens or hundreds of thousands, because so many live on or adjacent to active volcanoes. Regardless of any geographical positives here in Courso, there were a lot of folks who were affected by his evil.
Alex’s mother still held her regal bearing but the strain was obvious. Rexa’s usually flawless complexion seemed sallow and lines I’d never noticed before crept like pale spiders at the corners of her eyes.
“We have been in contact with the leaders of the other kingdoms, but there is no consensus on what should be done.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “There are some who believe giving in to the demands will alleviate the danger. There are others of us who are certain whatever this fiend might receive from us now will never be enough.”
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“I couldn’t agree more, Mother,” Alex responded immediately. “But if we cannot determine how to diminish his power, there doesn’t seem to be any way to thwart him. We don’t even know where he is.”
“Then we must find a way to defeat this menace,” she said, defiantly clenching her fists at her side. “I will not have my people live in fear. I will not have them under the thumb of a tyrant.”
The king, who had been sitting on the opposite end of the sofa from his wife, slid across the cushions and placed a protective arm around the queen’s shoulders. I almost forgot how different Wyx’s build was from Alex’s lean physique. He dwarfed his wife, and she wasn’t a frail woman. “The best of our generals are working on a solution. If there is a way to counteract his magic, they will find it.”
Rexa leaned her head onto her husband’s shoulder and sighed. “But what if we fail?”
12
Silence hung over the room. No one had any comforting words. We all knew whatever power this asshat possessed could very well be more powerful than anything in this dimension. Hell, until a day or so ago, no one knew there actually was a third dimension, much less what kind of magic existed there.
Rexa’s angst was short-lived. No time to be depressed when you have a country in crisis to run. She lifted her head, resumed the straight-backed posture that was her norm, and turned her attention to me.
“I realize you are not of this dimension and I am sorry that you have been drawn into this, but, as you are the only one to have had contact with this creature, you will need to be available to provide information to our strategists.”
“I’ll do whatever is needed, but I’m not sure I’ll be much help. I barely understand the rudimentary details of the Coursodon dimension, much less have any great insight into a completely unknown one,” I said with a slight grimace.
She was either too focused on the problem at hand or too polite to comment on my honest but could-be-interpreted-as-snarky retort. Instead, she asked me to repeat exactly what Doc Martens had told me to convey. I tried my best to recall the precise wording he used and when I finished, she asked me to repeat it while yet another minion took notes. She studied my transcribed statement thoroughly and had me go over everything again, but this time she stopped my recitation periodically to ask questions. When she seemed like she might request a fourth go-round, Alex stepped in and rescued me.
“Mother,” he said in a firm, but still respectful tone, “It has been a long day, and I am sure Hailey is exhausted. I know I am.”
The queen looked up at her younger son as if she hadn’t quite heard him correctly. “Oh, yes, of course. It is late.” She glanced toward a doorway across the room and, with an almost imperceptible nod, summoned a small, grey-haired woman. She spoke a few words in Courso and turned her attention back to us. “She will escort you to your rooms. We can continue these discussions tomorrow.”
Alex, Sebastian, and I were ushered through a long hallway and then up an even longer staircase. We stopped first at Sebastian’s assigned quarters and then walked a few doors down to ours. The room was fairly large, but sparsely furnished, and the décor was kind of mid-century medieval castle—stone floors, stone walls, heavy wood with high, arched doors and windows. Maybe it was closer to a renaissance monastery, except I was pretty sure they didn’t come furnished with a king-sized bed. There was even a fireplace that was larger than the kitchen of my guesthouse. The only real nod to the twenty-first century was the attached bathroom, which—thankfully—was equipped with a functioning toilet instead of a chamber pot. I was a flexible person, but unless I was camping, I wasn’t a happy squatter.
Knocking jarred me from my indoor plumbing reverie. “Hey, are you guys in there?” a familiar voice called out.
Thank goodness, she’s here too, I thought as I opened the door to Alex’s sister. Tannis was kind of the female version of Alex: tall, blonde, smart, and gorgeous with a dry sense of humor. At least I’d have someone to share snide comments with when Alex was busy Xyzoking.
She hugged Alex, then me, and plopped down on the edge of the bed. “I wish we were together under more pleasant circumstances.”
For the first time since I'd known her, Tannis looked a tiny bit less than perfect. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what was amiss, but the stress of Doc Martens’ misdeeds was obviously taking its toll on everyone.
Alex brought Tannis up to date on the current intel, and Tannis did the same with all the goings on in Courso. The bottom line, everyone was freaked out and while no one had any idea what to do, lots of really smart Courso were trying to come up with a plan to thwart Doc Martens before anyone else was harmed.
“On this end, the hardest part has been coordinating efforts between all eight kingdoms. Each government wants to be in charge, so nothing is moving forward,” Tannis explained, her bitterness apparent in every word. “You would think in a global crisis, everyone could keep their egos in check. Mother is just as bad as the rest of them, and Kyzal doesn’t help any by throwing his ideas at her.”
Kyzal was their older brother and the crown prince of Alenquai. He was also kind of a dick. He was, as my grandmother used to say, someone who was born on third base but thought he’d hit a triple. I was well aware that as the heir to the throne, he’d be constantly fawned over, but there was seemingly no end to his feelings of entitlement. His imperious attitude was infuriating, and not just to me. Alex, Tannis, and Sebastian thought he needed a humility infusion as well. Well, I thought he needed a swift kick in his hind end. Everyone claimed he would be a great king, but just because he could be charming to other well-bred uppity-ups didn’t mean he’d make a good leader. At least, not in my American-born, anti-monarchal book.
Alex shook his head. “What’s our brother up to now?”
“He is trying to get Mother to pressure the Glyzimutitch Zolmere to weaken restrictions on law enforcement agencies' to gather information on the public. Kyzal insists it is necessary, but I think it’s a mistake.”
Confused, I interrupted. “Wait, I thought Alenquai was like the UK, and the royalty had no real power. How is your mother going to influence the actual lawmakers?”
“There are certain members of the Glyzimutitch Zolmere who want these new policies to go into effect. As of now, they don’t have a majority,” Tannis explained. “Kyzal thinks if Mother comes out publicly to support loosening limitations on surveillance and such, the rest of the members will be more inclined to pass the bill.”
“That is indeed a slippery slope,” Alex said. “But I can see how both sides have valid arguments. If Doc has conspirators within Coursodon, identifying them could lead us to him.”
Tannis inclined her head, clearly perplexed. “Doc?”
“Doc Martens. The bastard never told me his name, so for lack of anything better, that’s what we all call him,” I answered. The crinkle in her brow let me know that hadn’t clarified things so I added, “I was a little fuzzy after awakening in Dekankara, and the first thing I saw was his black boots.”
“We definitely have to come up with a better moniker,” Tannis urged. “Doc Martens sounds too much like some aged, friendly, family physician who still makes house calls. He needs to have a name more fitting for a diabolical, power-mad villain.”
“Well, Fuck Face might work,” I offered, “But I’m not sure I can picture your parents saying it.”
After some consideration, Tannis nodded. “They are a bit too formal for that, but they might be willing to use Mr. Fuck Face. I’ll feel them out, see what they think.” She started to giggle, which made Alex and me laugh. It was nice to lighten the mood. “Oh, before I forget,” she mentioned. “Hewlyxnathin is expected later this evening. Father thought you might benefit from some training time with him as long as you are stuck here.”
That was good news. First Tannis, now Hewlyxnathin. Maybe I’d have enough pleasant distractions while ensconced in Castle Creepy to forget about my sicko stalker who could control magma. Unlikely, but I could
dream. Anyway, like myself, my Yterixa trainer had no royal or Xyzok obligations, so we could keep each other company while everyone else was occupied. Normally, I didn’t mind being on my own but given the enormity of crap that was going on lately, I was happy to have a buddy.
Tannis excused herself, and I decided to try to take a nap. Inter-dimensional travel was exhausting, at least for me. The room was quiet, the bed cool and comfortable, and I was asleep within minutes.
I dreamt I was in Hawaii, gazing at a magnificent sunrise atop Haleakala, the hulking, dormant volcano on the island of Maui. Completely underdressed for the elevation, I shivered in my shorts and tank top as the sun peeked out from the cloud cover below the summit. From behind me, I heard someone begin to speak. The deep voice recited the legend that Maui, a demigod, lassoed the sun while he stood at the edge of the volcano’s crater. Apparently, Maui’s mother, Hina, was pissed because the days were too short and her clothes didn’t have a chance to dry. Not surprisingly, the sun wasn’t happy either about being waylaid, even if it was by a demigod, and bargained for its freedom. Maui agreed to untie the sun, as long as it moved more slowly across the sky to make the days long enough for Hina’s muu muus or goddess mom-jeans to dehydrate to her liking.
I turned toward the storyteller to ask why Hina couldn’t use her own divine-being powers to suck the moisture out, but no one was there. Suddenly, hundreds of red anthurium flowers covered my naked arms and legs. I was warmer, but for some reason wearing a bunch of blooms that looked like they had a raging hard-on made me uncomfortable. The disembodied voice boomed out, “For you, Hailey,” and lava began to bubble out of the crater. Within seconds, I was surrounded by the glowing orange magma oozing ever closer to my feet. Running seemed like a viable option, but apparently my dream-legs were on the fritz. I tried to cry out, but I could not. Son of a bitch, I thought frantically. Why in dreams are you able to talk, but when you need to scream for your life, you suddenly lose the use of your vocal chords?