by P. G. Thomas
“Where will we go,” asked Eric?
“To the Northlands, that is where the most talented healers live,” replied Mirtza.
“I don’t like this,” Lauren was on edge, “I think we should wait for somebody else.”
John shook his head in disagreement, “If Ryan and Zack were not hurt, I might agree with you, but we have to think of them.”
“How long to get to these Northlands,” asked Eric?
“Two days.”
Eric looked at the other three, “I don’t think we have any choice.”
“I will leave you alone to decide. I wish to have a look at this odd thing,” Mirtza said as he pointed to the bus, “When I come back, if you have not loaded your friends onto my wagon, it will mean you want to stay, and I will leave you blankets, water, and a shovel.” When he reached the tunnel, he entered it, and made his way to the other side. As he passed by the bus, he struggled to understand both the odd metal object, and the damage to it. Where did this come from? How did it get here? When he was sure that he was out of sight, he bent down, collected a few pieces of pavement, and then headed back. When he returned to the wagon, Zack and Ryan were in the back, along with the six backpacks, and the first aid kit.
Mirtza smiled, “I am glad. I fear you would have died out here, had you decided to stay.”
They all climbed into the wagon, Eric sitting up front, while John, Logan, and Lauren took their places in the back.
Mirtza reached under the wagon seat and pulled out a small box. He walked his fingers through the envelopes contained within, and selected three. On his left wrist, he had a golden bracelet, which he removed. From the envelopes, he retrieved a small stone from each. His left hand held the bracelet at a slight angle in front of him, and his right hand held the three stones. He dropped the first stone towards the bracelet, and it disappeared as it went through the wrist hole. He held the bracelet upright, and a shimmering ring-shaped image floated from it. It moved forward, growing in size until it was twenty feet in diameter, stopping about thirty feet in front of the wagon. The image appeared to grow brighter and dropped down, so that the bottom half was below the ground, and then the inside of the circle began to lose focus. Before you could see the grass on the other side of the ring, but now it was just a haze, then a new image began to appear. After the first ring had stabilized, Mirtza dropped another stone in the bracelet, which caused a second ring to form like the first, and he then repeated his actions one more time. As the haze in the rings came into focus, the first showed a mountain range, the second a dirt road, and the last had an image of an ocean beach. He gave the oxen harness a snap, and the wagon headed towards the center ring. Lauren, Logan, Eric, and John sat with their mouths agape. As the wagon traveled through the ring, the landscape changed from long flowing grass, to short grass, with patches of dirt, and a road in front of them. When they were completely through, they all looked back at the single ring, with the image of the grassy field inside of it, which then shimmered and faded away.
“What just happened,” asked John?
Mirtza stopped the wagon and turned to face them, “Look, I know you have many questions for me, but I also have questions for you. We are heading to the healers in the Northlands as I said, and the magic portal is the quickest way to get there. Without the portal, it would take months to get here, months that your friends most likely do not have. I need to think, so please be quiet.” He turned towards the front of the wagon, snapped the harness, and the oxen began to move again.
Eric stepped into the back of the wagon and helped to move Zack and Ryan, so that everybody could sit comfortably, and to discuss their options. Lauren pulled a bottle of water out of her backpack, poured a little bit into Zack and Ryan’s mouths. She felt their foreheads, “Fever, does anybody have any extra clothing, an extra shirt or something?” Eric opened his backpack and pulled out one of his T-shirts, ripped it into two, and gave it to Lauren. She splashed some water on the torn shirt, and placed them on the foreheads of Zack and Ryan.
Eric looked at John, “That was weird? What do you think just happened?”
John was perplexed, “We just travelled through another wormhole. Travelling through two wormholes in one day, do you know what the odds of that are?”
Logan looked at them, “Actually, didn’t we see four wormholes in one day?”
John was shaking his head in disbelief, “Magic bracelets opening wormholes, magic ointments translating words. This… it’s just not possible.”
Lauren whispered, “Our talkative friend up front has gone awfully quiet?”
“Well, I guess if this is weird for us, it is probably just as weird for him,” replied John. “If we came across non-threatening alien life-forms, wouldn’t we try to help them? It happens all the time in the movies, and people stop to help injured animals. Helping is a natural and human trait.”
Lauren was unconvinced, “How do you know he is human? Why didn’t he tell us what he was going to do?”
“Well, if we came across an alien in our world, and offered them a ride to get medical attention in a car, they may find that weird, but to us it would be normal. Why would he explain that which he considers ordinary?”
The hushed conversation continued for another thirty minutes, with no conclusions reached. They simply did not know enough about what was happening or why. Gradually the conversation slowed, and then stopped. And then the four just watched the mundane countryside roll by.
Chapter 4
Mirtza also considered the confusion surrounding the current events. Three years ago, I was a simple farmer's son, growing roots, feeding pigs, and chasing girls. One day Ma and Pa say, ‘Times are changing, farming a thing of the past. You needs an education.’ Before you know it, they send me to that damned school, and to top it off, they cannot afford to pay for the schooling. So they cut a deal on roots and pigs. But it’s not enough of a deal, so I have to work off part of the fees. Being outside all day, now that was fun, sitting in that classroom, not fun. After a year, they tell me to go to the Southlands. Find specimens, make maps, talk to people, and take notes on anything interesting. Fine, it was better than sitting in a classroom. They told me not to take the same path back. Then those damn mountains. No roads, just trails and paths, then I get lost. Up, down, up, down for so long and when I finally get out, I’m in a desert. Damn talent. A year and half later, I start to recognize some landmarks, but I can’t find a living soul. What happened? And then there was that huge bang. I almost soiled myself. So I go to investigate. Make notes. Report anything interesting. I know the direction to head, but I am not sure of what I am looking for. Then in the middle of that grassland, I see a mountain. Well that would definitely fall into the category of ‘interesting.’ More interesting, we have people, and not just people, foreign outlanders. Well, I can’t just leave them there. Two of them are injured, and to top it off, they do not trust me. Find interesting things, report on them, meet people, and talk to them. Is this some sort of test? Just give me a small plot of land with a few pigs, some roots to weed every day and for the love of salt, a hot bath…. And that magic bang? Sure, I have heard magic up close. I have heard it from far away. I might not know the specific spell, but I know the presence of magic. I hear it every time I activate a spell, damn talent. Why can’t there be a gift for growing roots or raising pigs. I would welcome that.
Mirtza turned his head and looked at the six, “We will have to sleep under the stars tonight. We will make camp in a few hours.”
So now, I am heading towards an unfamiliar area, to meet strangers, elves of all things, that may or may not even be there. I am wandering in a land of ghosts. And those damned plague posters. What is going on? What am I supposed to do? Where should I be going? What am I looking for? Growing roots was so easy. Till the soil, plant the seeds, weed the roots, harvest, sell, and start over. Pigs were simple. Feed them, watch them grow, slaughter, and sell them. But no, wander for over a year, come back to a plague infested land,
everybody is gone, except for six outlanders, and two of them are injured. Seriously, did I miss this class in the first year of school? What to do in strange situations?
As the last sun approached the horizon, Mirtza gave up trying to make sense of the weird turn of events, and his new role that he now played. He pulled the wagon to the side of the road beside some trees, jumped out, and stretched his legs, “Please gather some firewood. I will get the food.” Eric, Logan, and John set off on their mission, while Lauren, still a wary, stayed on the opposite side of the wagon from Mirtza. Sensing her discomfort, he reached under the seat of the wagon, and pulled out some blankets, “You four can sleep under the wagon tonight,” then walked to the front of it, and undid the oxen. Still deep in thought, he went to the small pile of firewood the boys had gathered, and pulled out a flint and a knife. A few strikes ignited a small spark in the bundle of dry weeds, which he blew on until a flame grew, and then started to add wood around it. When the fire had gained sufficient size, he went to the wagon, where he retrieved a medium-sized chest from under the driver’s seat. From that chest, he started pulling out dried meats, biscuits, and fruits. He then retrieved a water jug and a second chest from the wagon as well. From the second chest, he pulled out a grill, that was longer than the box was deep, as well as pots and pans, and then began to prepare their meal. From one bag, he added beans to a pot, and from a second, he placed a handful of different beans into what looked like a percolating pot, with some water, which he also placed on the grill. He walked back towards the wagon and stopped. Lauren, Logan, Eric, and John were just standing there staring at him, their eyes wide, and their jaws slack.
Mirtza looked at them for a second, what am I supposed to do? “Forgive me. I am being a terrible host.” He went over to them, “This is all new to me, and I am still trying to figure out what is happening. In my haste to leave the grasslands, we did not do formal introductions. My name is Mirtza. I am the son of a pig and root farmer, and I guess a magic student. I met the big and little one earlier, but you did not tell me your names.”
Eric stepped forward, “My name is Eric,” and he held out his hand. Mirtza looked at him and did the same, but did not touch Eric’s hand. Eric grabbed Mirtza’s hand, and gave him a very strong, possibly too strong of a handshake.
Mirtza pulled his hand back and rubbed it, “I assume that is some sort of greeting?”
Lauren hesitated as she stepped forward, introduced herself, Logan and then John. Eric pointed to the wagon and introduced Zack and Ryan.
“Yes, let’s check on your friends.” Mirtza retrieved his bag from the front of the wagon, examined Ryan and Zack, and from inside the bag, he withdrew the vials from when he had first treated them, and repeated the process.
Lauren asked, “Are they going to be okay?”
“Tomorrow we will meet some people who are more skilled in the healing arts than I am. We will keep them warm and dry tonight. They will be fine.” And the pots over the fire began to boil, indicating the meal was ready.
“Eric, can you please bring the large trunk from the back of the wagon to the fire?” Mirtza went to stir the beans, and moved the other pot to the side of the grill.
Eric brought over the trunk, and in an act of being helpful, opened it. It was empty, except for little golden figures attached to the inside surfaces of the chest, “I must have brought the wrong one.”
Mirtza walked over to it, closed the lid, and opened it. He then pulled out a stack of plates and closed the lid. Then opened it again and pulled out five mugs, and once again closed the lid. He kept repeating the actions of opening the lid, and pulling new contents from the empty chest, until he had place settings and utensils for everybody. He looked up at the four, who were once again speechless, “Oh, I am sorry. I am so used to this that I do not even think about it. I will explain later, sit down.” He pulled the beans and fried meats from the fire, and then advised, “Please help yourselves.”
Lauren went to the back of the wagon, grabbed Eric’s backpack and handed it to him, whispered to him, “You should eat your lunch, in case the food is drugged.” While starved, Eric nodded his head in agreement.
Mirtza saw what was happening, “Look you can trust me. I mean you no harm. I am going to eat this food, just like you. There is nothing wrong with it, but if you prefer not to, it is your choice.”
They were starving, and everybody but Eric grabbed a plate, and filled it. The meat had a unique taste to it and the beans were indescribably good. The buns and fruit were both fresh and delicious. After they had their fill, Mirtza grabbed a mug, and reached for the percolating pot, from which a caffeine-like aroma filled the air. The rest, except Eric, seeing this did the same. Logan and Lauren both had caffeine drinks numerous times, Lauren could take it or leave it, but Logan on the other hand, was a caffeine addict, and warm or cold, it called to him. John had been offered coffee before, had never accepted any, but with all of the others holding out a mug, he willingly joined in.
Lauren took a sip and smiled. John, wanting to fit in, first tested the temperature with his finger, and then took a mouthful. His eyes opened wide, his face went flush, he turned his head away from everybody, and the liquid exploded from him. He turned back to them, his eyes watering, “In the name of all things holy, why would you…, why would you…, what the hell is this? Have you tried cleaning the pot?”
Logan was now a little cautious and took a sip, then a mouthful, “Sweet mother, you have got to give me some of those beans. Man, this is the nectar of rock stars. This stuff has got a bite to it.”
Lauren, holding back a smile said, “It is a little strong. Do you have anything to lessen the bite, as my brother so enthusiastically put it?”
Mirtza asked, “Is there anything in particular you would like?”
Lauren replied, “Sugar or honey to sweeten it would be nice, milk or cream to help tame it would be good, Baileys or Kahlua might stop my eyes from watering.”
Mirtza reached into the first trunk, brought out a jar of honey, which Lauren added to her mug, until she could drink it without her gag reflex kicking in. By that point, Logan was asking for a refill, and John was on all fours, coughing, barking, sweating, and making promises that he would never keep.
Mirtza looked at Lauren, Logan, Eric, and John’s butt, “I know I was a little rude earlier. For that, I do apologize. As your host, let me tell you my story, and then you can tell of your travels.” What the heck am I supposed to do? “Unlike you, I am from here. I have celebrated twenty-five dates of birth, which started on a farm in the Newlands, just south of where we met. About fifty years ago, trading ships started showing up in our capital, eager for all sorts of goods. They were willing to trade bags of gold for food, lumber and pretty much anything else we could sell them. The Bright Coast, it was heavily populated, so people headed out to the Newlands, to clear land, sell the lumber and then grow crops, and those people included my parents. The Newlands expanded quickly over the years, but we could not grow enough to satisfy the trading ships. They have been showing up for so long, I don’t know if anybody remembers why they started to trade with us in the first place. As I mentioned earlier, my parents were proud root and pig farmers. But with the Newlands expanding, cities growing, my parents felt better opportunities were available. So they enrolled me into a magic school three years ago. While my parents were very good farmers, the school costs were high, but they brokered a deal on discount food prices, and arranged for me to pay part of my tuition as an apprentice student. After one year of school, I went on a one-year trip to the Southlands, to gather samples, take notes, and discover. However, I got lost in some mountains, and the trip took over a year to get back. Upon my return, I stumbled upon you six. Now if you have questions about pigs and roots, I feel very qualified to give you solid answers. Beyond that, the only thing that I can add is this. That which I know, is only exceeded by that which I do not know.” He checked their reactions to see how much they believed. Yes, it was a greatly s
anitized and shortened version of the truth, but he had to say something, “Now tell me your story.”
Eric started to explain their world, but Mirtza got a puzzled look on his face. He suggested the translation ointment, saying it might help him to understand better. By this time, John was sitting up, and said that it was fine to use. Eric applied some, but the puzzled look never left Mirtza’s face. Eric rambled on for thirty minutes, but only got more frustrated, “Harry, you give it a try.” John looked at him, and not in a pleasant way. Eric continued, “I am sorry, just frustrated. Give me a football, and tell me to teach Mirtza how to play. That I can do. You are better with words.”
John asked for a mug of water, drank it, and cleared his throat. “Ok you know our names, much like you, we are students as well. As you put it, I have celebrated thirteen dates of birth. My friends here have celebrated seventeen of them. Ryan, in the back of the wagon, he has celebrated eighteen. Logan and Lauren’s parents are what you would most likely call shopkeepers. They make and sell items that other people need, something like a blacksmith.” Mirtza nodded his head that he understood. It was somewhat true, as they ran a very large manufacturing company. “Eric’s father is a professional sportsman.”
“I know what sports are, I have seen children kick around a ball, but how does one become, what you call a professional?”
“In our world, sports are huge, and people pay to see sports played. To get the best players, they are paid.” Mirtza again nodded his head that he understood, but everybody thought he still had questions. John went on to explain about Ryan’s family, as for Zack’s family, John said he would explain that later. He then said, “My father is a programmer.”