by Travis Perry
Alastair blinked, willing his eyes to adjust to the dark. He took a cautious step forward and then another. The tunnel started to take shape. The roof and ceiling became more defined. The tunnel curved around to the right. He stuck his head around the corner. A large cavern was filled with items. He stepped in. There were crates stacked up five high against the rock wall. Next to them were books—countless books, and with them small flat items with a glass surface. On many of them the glass was etched with words or pictures. Alastair picked one up and squinted at it. For the first time in his life, Alastair wished he could read. The words might be important. Could Waleran read? Maybe—but there were too many books, not to mention these flat things. How could he choose? He dropped the object and picked up a book. A cloud of dust rose up. Some of the pages were moldy. These items had been here a long time. Alastair sneezed and then turned around.
Behind him were larger items—most of which he couldn’t begin to image their purpose. One of them caught his eye. It was a wide, almost circular device. Mostly white standing on spindly metal three-pronged legs. An arm stuck out one side. Cylinders poked out of the top. Another long arm stuck upward. On the end of it a wide round plate with a prong in the center. Cobwebs hung from every protrusion. The surface of the device was covered with a gritty dust—much coarser than what was on the books. Alastair had never made the pilgrimage, but he’d heard enough stories to know what he was seeing—The Viking of Chryse! How did it end up here? It couldn’t be. The Viking was well guarded at Chryse. This was very similar though. A second Viking? Why not? The Vikings came from Earth—that blue pinprick in the night sky. It couldn’t have landed here in the cave, which meant somebody had brought it here from another place. Waleran would never believe this.
Leaning against the wall behind the Viking lay a human skeleton. Alastair shuffled toward it and dropped to one knee. He bowed his head in respect. Who had this person been? Perhaps the one who had brought all of these artifacts—the Harta Karun—to this place? If true, then Alastair owed this man—this wizard of old—a debt of gratitude, assuming of course that he could find what he was looking for. There was so much here. How would he know which of these items was the one that would save Lynessa?
The skeleton clutched something rectangular in its hand. Made of metal. If this person had died holding it, then it must have been important. Alastair pulled as gently as he could to wrench the object free. One of the brittle finger bones snapped. Alastair winced. More dust rose into the air. He held the cold hard object. There was a hand grip. This was the part that the wizard had clutched. The long metal rectangle was connected to this. A small strip of metal hung from the underside. Alastair turned the device to look into the end of the oblong. His finger brushed the strip, which swiveled like a tiny lever. Fire erupted in Alastair’s head. He toppled backward. Then the world went black.
• • •
Alastair groaned. His head throbbed out a drumbeat. It was dark, but not completely. Something hard and sharp hurt his back. He wriggled. He was lying on hard bumpy rock. He was underground. The cavern! It was coming back now. He’d come into the cavern and found the magical artifacts. There’d been a skeleton, and an object in his hand. Yes, there had been that searing pain and then he’d passed out. The talisman was still clutched in his hand. Alastair placed it on the ground. Whatever magic this thing contained was powerful. He’d not be using that again.
He pushed himself to his feet. He still hadn’t found what he needed to save Lynessa. Somewhere amongst all of this he had to find it. He kept walking. After he had moved past the area of large machinery, he found a pile of see-through crates. He touched one of them. Not glass. It wasn’t hard and cold enough. The crates were not completely transparent, but translucent enough to show that they contained bottles, vials, cloths and other assorted contents. Each seemed to be identical to the next. The tops of the crates held a thick green cross. A cross—the sign of Jesu! This must be it. Alastair grabbed one of the crates and tore the lid off. His heart sank. There was nothing special about the objects inside. The cloths appeared to be bandages. Countless glass bottles contained liquids of various colors. There were thin metal cylinders. What purpose could all of this possibly have? Would any of it be helpful in saving Lynessa? It seemed doubtful. None of it looked particularly magical, but he’d found nothing else in this cavern marked with the sign of Jesu. This had to be it.
Alastair pushed the lid back on the crate. He placed three of them into his pack. There was no room for any more. Please Jesu, he prayed. May these artifacts be the things I came to seek. May they save Lynessa’s life.
A hiss sounded behind him. Alastair whipped around. A scaly head peered around the corner. A dragon! Alastair’s mouth went dry. There was only one way out of here and the dragon was blocking it. He froze. Perhaps the beast wouldn’t see him in the dark. Maybe it would lose interest. Alastair held his breath, hoping that he appeared nonthreatening. The creature locked eyes with him. His heart pounded. He didn’t want to die here—not like this. The dragon inched forward, coming further into the cave.
Alistair mashed his eyes shut. His fingers brushed his leg where his sword should have hung. Nothing. That’s right. He’d ruined his sword dislodging those boulders. Was there nothing else he could defend himself with?
The talisman! His eyes jerked open. There it was, near the Viking. Could he reach it in time? He had to try. Alastair dashed forward, skidding to a stop. He reached for the talisman and pointed the long rectangular shaft toward the dragon, aiming directly at the creature’s head. Then he pulled the little lever. The dragon stopped. Something akin to a scream came from deep in the back of the dragon’s throat. It took a step backward. The magic of the talisman hadn’t incapacitated the creature as much as it had done with Alastair, but it had definitely made an impact. Alastair pulled the lever again. The creature howled and took another step backward. Then another. The creature turned, presenting its tail, and trotted out toward the mouth of the tunnel.
A crazy idea appeared in Alastair’s mind. An absurd idea. No time to think it through. He sprinted forward, yelling as he did. The dragon picked up its pace, running toward the tunnel entrance. Alastair launched himself forward and landed on the creature’s back just before thick leathery wings rose up and propelled the beast out of the tunnel and into the air.
Alastair clung to the creature’s neck. It howled as it realized it had an uninvited passenger. It thrashed wildly, but only for a second. The dragon’s flight was erratic and clumsy—as if it had never been intended to be an airborne animal. Alastair screamed with a whoop. He was riding a dragon. Below him the other beasts looked up as he sailed safely over their heads.
Down below, tribesmen aimed their bows and let fly. Arrows hurtled toward them. One stuck the dragon on the side. It hissed and then swooped down, spitting acid at the fleeing man. Alastair aimed the magic talisman and activated it—knocking one of the tribesmen to the ground. This artifact made the perfect weapon. He could incapacitate his enemies without killing them.
They were now over the jungle. It was time to get off. Alastair waited until the dragon was nearly over a soft-looking shrub and launched off the creature’s back. He landed and rolled, coming to a stop on the spongy ground. Wasting no time, he spun around and aimed the talisman at the dragon, which had already turned around for a swooping attack. He fired. The dragon’s wing fluttered. It jerked violently and tumbled to the ground with a sickening thud. The animal howled and shook itself. Alastair fired once more, knocking the dragon unconscious. Alastair placed the talisman in his belt, where his sword had once hung, and sprinted toward the twisted tree where Waleran waited.
• • •
Waleran was groggy but conscious when Alastair found him. The makeshift bandage was crimson and soaked. Alastair pulled one of the crates out of his bag. There were bandages inside. He ripped the lid off and pulled out the fresh bandage.
“Hold still, Waleran.” He removed the blood-soaked cloth.
“You found a first aid kit?” Waleran’s voice was groggy. The blood loss would soon take his consciousness.
“It’s a crate marked with the sign of Jesu. I’m hoping it will help Lynessa.” Alastair started to bind Waleran tightly. “I don’t know if you’re going to believe this, but I rode on the back of a dragon.”
Waleran winced as Alastair pulled the bandage tight. “Really? Where is it now?” His wide eyes darted about.
“It’s okay. I put the dragon to sleep with a magic talisman.”
“Show it to me.”
“Later.” He pulled one last time. Waleran winced. “All done. This should keep the bleeding in check better than the wet linen. Still, we have a long journey home. It’s not going to be easy for you.”
“Let me see inside that first aid kit.”
Alastair handed the crate over. Waleran pored through it, examining various cylinders. He took a few out and surveyed them. His face contorted with concentration. “One of these should help, but I’m just not sure which.” He rummaged through and continued looking at the cylinders. Small paper labels were adhered somehow—with lettering on them. So Waleran could read. Finally Waleran selected one.
“If I’m right, this should inject directly into my body.”
Alastair’s eyes widened to the point of bursting as Waleran pressed the cylinder against his skin and a little hiss emanated.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Waleran? Sticking things into your body, it seems a little…well…ungodly.”
“It’s just medicine, Alastair.”
“What is it supposed to do?”
Waleran’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“What?”
“It’s all tingly.”
Waleran reached for the bandage and began to untie it.
“No. Stop,” Alastair yelled. “You’re delusional.”
The bandage came away just in time for them to see the wound seal up and vanish. Alastair’s jaw dropped. The magic in that metal wand was wondrous. Perhaps it could help Lynessa.
“Help me stand,” Waleran said.
Alastair extended his hand and helped the man to his feet.
“Are there many tribesmen out there?”
“No, they were scared away by the dragon.”
“They’ll be back.”
Alastair pulled out the talisman. “They won’t get near us as long as I’ve got this.” He pulled out the talisman and waved it around.
Now it was Waleran’s eyes that widened. “An ancient weapon from the Time of Magic? I never thought I’d see one.”
They strode out of the trunk into the splotchy light of the jungle.
“All right, Alastair. Let’s go home.”
• • •
The cursed camp was a sea of excited faces as Alastair and Waleran rode in. Thankfully, they’d found the horses on their way back from Argyre Planitia. Alastair scanned the crowd for Lynessa’s face. She was nowhere in sight. Alastair’s heart jumped up his throat. Had something happened? Had the curse claimed her life already? Surely not.
A soft hand touched his thigh. His body jerked involuntarily. He spun and locked eyes with her. Lynessa! He leapt from his horse and crushed her in an embrace. Her tears wet his cheek. He would never let her go again. Eventually she pulled back.
“You made it, Alastair. I never thought I’d see you again.”
“Not only did I make it back, but I found this.” He reached back for his saddlebag, but someone had already led the horse away to be cared for. Waleran reached out and handed him a crate—a wide smile on his face. Alastair showed it to Lynessa. “See, this will cure you. Where is Branwyn?”
“I’m here.” Alastair turned. The wizened woman’s mouth held the hint of a grin. “May I see it?”
Alastair handed her the crate. She opened it and surveyed the contents. She scratched around the cylindrical wands just as Waleran had. Suddenly her face lit up. “This is it! This is the cure developed during the Time of Magic.” She took out a wand. A small glass window on the wand showed it contained a yellow liquid. Branwyn looked into Lynessa’s eyes. “Please come with me, dear.”
Alastair followed. They stopped at a small wooden stool near a spent campfire. Lynessa sat on the stool. Branwyn knelt beside her.
“Please roll your sleeve up.”
A crowd gathered all around them. The excited chatter had died down to awestruck silence. Branwyn held the wand with reverence. She paused.
“What’s wrong?” Alastair whispered.
“I’ve never done this before. With all I know it should work—but what if all of my learning is false? There is so much from the Time of Magic we don’t understand.”
Alastair smiled. “The magic is powerful, and I believe in you, Branwyn.”
She took a deep breath, placed the wand against Lynessa’s forearm, performing the injecting ritual just as Waleran had done weeks before in the jungle.
Gasps came from the crowd at the slight hissing sound.
She removed the wand and smiled. “Let’s see how that goes.”
Alastair’s body went limp. Could this really be true? After all his hoping, it was finally come true. Was Lynessa going to be okay?
They watched for a minute—then another. Slowly the red of the mark began to fade. The mark grew smaller and smaller. A silence fell over the entire campment. This was a holy moment. Finally even the crusted point of the mark was gone. Lynessa’s skin was clear and pure.
Branwyn turned her attention back to the crate. “There is enough here to help several others.”
Alastair’s smile dropped. “There were many crates in the tunnel, but I could only carry a few. I wished I’d brought enough to help everyone.”
Perhaps he could go back again, or tell Branwyn the location of the cave. Then again, what would happen to all of those treasures if their location became widely known? There was so much about them that was not understood. Days ago, Alastair would have likely viewed the yellow liquid as a cloth dye, having no idea that to use it as such was to waste such a precious resource. The tribesmen were right to protect the secret of their Harta Karun. Mankind was not yet ready for them.
Branwyn placed a hand on his forearm. “Many in the camp here are beyond the help of this drug. The curse seems to move through the body—destroying organs as it goes, but thanks to your bravery, many will be spared their fate.”
Alastair nodded. “You knew all along that the curse was a sickness, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “It is a variant of something humanity suffered greatly from in the ancient times, even before the Time of Magic. They called this version Mars Cancer.”
“Maybe now that people can see an example of someone who has been cured of the curse by medicine, we can start to correct the way people think about it.”
Branwyn nodded. “And more importantly, the way those who suffer from it are treated. They need no longer be shunned.” She stood. “Lynessa can leave in a few days, if that’s what she wants.”
Lynessa’s face dropped. “So soon?”
“What’s wrong?” Alastair asked.
Lynessa looked at him, her round brown eyes holding an unexpected sadness. “I’ve enjoyed helping Branwyn care for others. It means so much more to me than being a maid for Lady Celestine. I think I’ve found my calling.”
“You want to stay here?”
“I’d love to travel with Branwyn, healing and helping others.”
Alastair allowed himself to imagine it for a moment. It would be a fulfilling life. Certainly it would be difficult to go back to potato farming after his adventures.
“I could see us doing that together, Lynessa, as husband and wife.” He turned to Branwyn. “But I doubt Lord Gareth would release us.”
Branwyn smiled. “I’ll talk to him. I’m sure I could more than pay for your absence with medical services.”
Alastair hugged Lynessa close again. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.
He pulled back and dr
ank in her face. It was lit up like never before. “I may not be cursed anymore, but our life will still hold many challenges ahead.”
Alastair laughed. “Of course, but God will help us face them together.”
Adam David Collings makes his home in Australia’s island state of Tasmania with his wife and two children. When he’s not working as a software developer you’ll find him dreaming up stories of the fantastical.
His childhood thoughts were dominated by Superman, Star Trek and Star Wars, but it was probably playing the classic adventure game King’s Quest that inspired Adam to write a quest story for this anthology. Winning the heart of his wife (see, nerds CAN get the girl) inspired him to make the deliverance of a lady the hero’s objective.
Adam has a keen interest in video—hosting his own YouTube show about books, movies and games, and mixing the live video feed at his local church.
You can connect with Adam at AdamDavidCollings.com.
Liar’s Paradox
by Jill Domshot
To the good people of Mars, in this year of our Lord, 3013, herein lies the record of one St. Simon Albrecht, the most prestigious liar of the Elysium Fields, in the larger state of Utopia Planitia, though he did proclaim it himself. Following is Simon’s full proclamation, as far as Simon was willing to swear on the Holy Scriptures:
by my troth i do solemnly swear that my lying first began at birth when I cried for milk after having just been nourished at the breast. And it continued in small ways until I contracted the la gran fiebre. The Great Fever was not in itself great, as used in the colloquial expression of affection toward one’s elders: eres lo grande. Nay, it was an epidemic that ravaged a great number of the Elysium population in the year of our Lord Jesucristo 3000.
As it is recorded, the sickness was none other than the common Red Fever, called so because it was known to occur more frequently during the cyclical seasons of red dust storms. It eventually destroyed man at the heart of his phlegmatic zone, otherwise called the lungs, until its victim collapsed under the weight of red sputum spewing from his mucosae cavity. But it was, as the healers knew, a disease of the liver, where it caused putrefaction that radiated to all members of the physical body.