by A M Russell
Janey was shaking me; 'Come on! Snap out of it! We must stop now!' so I focused and in a blinding snowstorm we felt ourselves to be on solid ground. We were near some trees. Janey was shuddering with the effort. So I thought the thought more strongly and the impetus of the movement was lost. We were rolling to a stop in time.
'Not stopping Jared! Just ease off now.... let the normal timeline take us.'
It was if the engine was switched off; the time flux was breaking and beginning to dissipate. We flowed forward still a little more. And in a cool spring night we came to rest on dry grass, surrounded by trees. And the force was spent, so when normal time flowed around us we were caught in its torrent. It was strong like a tide. And like a river that had been flowing from the beginning. How well might Adam tell me that we were all time travellers, for now I remembered something. And it was time to speak the word. So I whispered in her ear "Roseate" then "Menthe". I wondered what I had done for she convulsed in my arms. A moment later she was still. Had it been too soon?
'Aquavita,' she said, then after a pause, 'heliotrope...'
'Something shifted within, and I saw it again, but more clearly.... Adam sitting with me and Davey and Sam and saying "we are all travellers my friend. And this time is the best that we can find. Time is not your master....and not his (pointing at Davey); nor his (at Sam); nor yours or mine (and he tapped himself lightly on the chest as he spoke). And in my mind’s eye I saw his face, smiling but with serious eyes. And he had blue eyes. Yet....they were hazel, I was sure they had been. What happened to his eyes? Davey is turning to me and speaking. But like in dream no sound came out. I was sitting with a glass in my hand; I could feel the glass....
I was back in the glade between trees, in cool misty predawn greyness. Janey was slumped against me, seemingly in a dead faint. I felt her breath on my cheek. So I eased her down onto her side. I sniffed and caught the scent of something resinous. This smell stimulated a cascade of images. But most of all: the place where we had been. It was indeed a concert hall; with large backroom and labyrinthine corridors. And there was a cupboard and beeswax polish, and that old smell of years piled one on the other. Rimmington was not there.... but August Charles was, but it seemed in the nature of an observer. He looked strained and winced when I cried out and struggled against the padded comfort of the chair with its adjustable closures to secure wrists and ankles. I didn't like it. But I had agreed, I had been warned. The stick. And the carrot? Knowledge of other worlds, other realities. In my vanity I had been taken in by this; the appeal was true and sincere; but the price? Well; that was your soul and your identity, and the power of the forgetting was the only thing that stopped you from turning them in for the ultimate deception. Liars; Thieves! I reclaim it back.... You do not have me!
It is dawn. The mist is glowing with the gold of the disk that rises out of the grassy horizon. I crawl to the edge of this little sheltered place. I see grass lands and distant trees. There seems no habitation as far as can be seen on that brief view. I crawl back. How long were we out there? I thought it was one night. I go to Janey and touch her cheek. Cold. But she moves with that touch, and breathes in suddenly. She opened her eyes. I watch her for many minutes as she blinks and tries to be brave; then forced herself to a sitting position.
'The shelter.' she says. Then her eyes close. Her head nods onto her chest. It's like she drunk and exhausted. I am sitting there too. I don't want to move. But I know I must. The dawn light warms me enough. So I slip off my pack. Then I slid over to Janey and unclip hers. I can see that she is in no state to help me. So I just concentrate on what I am doing. Somewhere it goes deeper in.... But she does not. Just a surprise? No. They cannot let me know. I shake my head. I need to be clear. So I drink from her cup. How it this? I am confused. That much is clear. I grasp one thing. It is morning. She has me by my promise to stay. The other finds it a struggle. The other man; the one who said she was a vault of my undiscovered gardens. I don't know what is happening for him, so I let it ride.
I shake my head and stare hard at the patch of ground in front of me. God help me! I need to find a focus! I think of slapping myself hard. But I'm too resistant to pain to make that idea a good one this is a different kind of thing. I know enough to realise that this is "Time Sickness" as they call it. The first signs are rapid unconnected thoughts amplified by exhaustion; then later the physical effects kick in really strongly. I didn't know how much time I had before that; but some simple logical part of me was thinking rapidly; working out how to do what was necessary before I crashed. So I got out the larger of the two shelters, and counting out loud each stage of construction managed to get it up in ten minutes. I felt a sudden swirl of nausea. Too slow.... It should take no more than four minutes; best not to dwell on this. I went to Janey. She felt cold. I pulled her up into a sitting position, and her eyes flickered open. She saw the tent, 'Great Job.' she said, 'Be there in a minute.' And then she crawled round a nearby tree. I realised the need myself and found a similar place opposite the other side of the tent in some deep bushes. I came out again seeing that Janey was still doing what needs to be done. Her ice suit was flung to one side, so I picked it up. I took the packs inside the tent. I came back for Janey. She was laid on the grass back on this side of the tree. I turned her over, hooked my arms under hers, and pulled her into the tent. I realised how cold she was so I unrolled the sleeping bags. Then thought for a minute and zipped the two together. I took off my jacket and outer wear; then pulled Janey gently from hers trying not to bend her arms the wrong way. She was like a floppy doll that sometimes resisted. She was shivering. But I was uncomfortably warm. I zipped the tent shut. It was well pitched. No strain. I could feel my mind trying to wander again so I pinched the inside of my thigh. It hurt a lot less than it should have....or rather I hadn't really pinched it at all. So I slapped myself on the side of the face! That did it. For a few minutes I had clarity. I tucked Janey inside the cocoon of the sleeping bag, and then climbed in. I eased the zipper shut and lay down. Janey turned instinctively towards my warmth. She made a strange noise in her throat. So I felt with my fingertips over her face and neck. She seemed fine in that respect; maybe she had her hair in her mouth; she used to chew the ends long ago. She lay against me moulding into my warmth. She felt like a slender icicle. But it cooled me down. And slowly our temperature equalised. I began to get that floating feeling, as on the edge of sleep. Janey moaned again; so I stroked her hair with my other hand and it seemed to calm her down. Her breathing became regular and she glowed with that pleasant warmth.
'Jared?' she said, 'I'm with you.... We arrived. We are safe. I went forward....' it was then I realised she was talking in her sleep. She pressed her mouth into my neck; a kiss, soft....lingering. Then she slept.
I was laid awake then for what seemed like the longest time drifting in and out of dreams that I did not remember. Janey slept soundly and long. And I hoped....oh! How I hoped that she would be spared the onset of sickness. Every ten minutes or so I felt the rolling haul of nausea; I am sea sick but on land. The inner ear is telling the brain there is an imbalance somewhere, and is responding accordingly. I was still the same.... The same Jared! I almost laughed! I could travel on this fantastic journey and the one constant in the universe was that I was absolutely guaranteed to throw up at some point. No getting out of it for Jay Vincey! We are one and the same.... Jared Arden! Who are you kidding? It has always been so.... I feel queasy again and it spreads and fills my whole mind so that I cannot think of anything else. It is coming now every few minutes, more insistent, stronger, and harder to ignore. I'm going to get out of the tent. I must. It recedes again. I think this about twenty times more. Until I realise that I need to relieve myself and get up.
I slip out into full sunlight warming, sweet and still the air is suffused with the smell of grasses and resinous bark, and something else like the rushing of water. Perhaps it is nearby?
But I go round to my shelter and I take my relief, I find it hard to
be clear. Where are we? When are we?
But then I am overwhelmed. I cannot move but am shaking and sick. It continues until I'm retching and nothing is coming out. I suddenly remember the kit meds that we all carry. Anti-sickness tablets. Not controlled drugs. Right now I'll try anything to stop how I feel. It's time to take our leave of science. Oh God! My dear Janey! I go back to her; find my pack and water bottle. I find the press through pack of tablets. I take three, maximum dose, and check the time on my watch as I do so. I know it might not match local time but it's all I've got. Elapse time from the last time we were with our friends. I cry a little uselessly. But feel better because there is no one here to see.
I crawl back to my girl and hold her again. She still sleeps, and I wonder if I should wake her. The tablets are working. I feel better. But time passes and I am day dreaming then waking, then waking again.
A time later; she's not there. I panic and go outside. She comes out from behind a tree. And then pulls herself to the edge of the forest glade. She is shedding her skins of those tunics and girls undergarments. I go to her. She is burning up. I pick up her clothes. She is only wearing knickers. She crawls back to the tent obediently. Inside I zip it shut again. We are in the shade of a tree and it isn't too warm inside with the vents open. She lies down. I'm wondering how to get a vest top back on a half passed out woman. But I don't feel so good so I lay down. She immediately snuggles against my bare chest. There is nothing except how sick we both are. I wonder if she will be persuaded to put her clothes back on then give up; as she wraps herself round me. I sleep then.
I wake thirsty and stiff. My mind feels clearer. Janey is warm against me, naked and beautiful. Blue shadows under her eyes. I wrap my arms around her protectively. I'm still queasy but my mind feels clear. But so tired; so tired.
I wake as the sun is westering. I find the water bottle and drink. But suddenly panic. Where is Janey?
She is outside lying face down in the grass sweating. The night is sultry and the sun sets. And I don't know how to get her to safety so I sit by her.
'Hiya! Hiya!!' a cry rings out across the night. And the rumble of a hooved animal is heard. Suddenly puffing and blowing is a magnificent horse nosing and sniffing in our direction someone slips off his back.
'We have found it! There are two of them! Go tell my father!'
My eyes roll shut and I sway in space. Strong hands catch me before I topple.
'Be thee traveller or no, I shall help thee.'
I cannot speak, but roll my eyes open. There are at least five horses. Their riders quickly dismount.
'The Lady! Look to her! Take her gently!'
I can do nothing as they lift the ghost of my beloved girl. She has gone beyond my protection. I am ill, helpless, and pathetic. The man lifts me easily in his arms. Mercifully I pass out as the hooves drum a beat on the springing turf.
*****
Twenty
There was a light above my head. I saw whiteness, and a patch of brighter space. Sunlight? No, blue….pale. a spring sky of a warm day. The air is cool in this room. But it is actually about twenty two degrees. I saw a thermometer a few minutes ago. I think I did. I am in a bed. The head rest is slightly raised. I feel empty. I cannot remember the feeling of a meal inside my stomach. But I’m not thirsty. Someone held a straw to my lips a little while ago. I drank and drank. And was satisfied.
The room is white. The blankets and sheets all white. Everything in the room is pristine and cool. The exact shade of white that is the purest, yet the most organic. Slightly creamy, but not cream. I spend a few minutes shutting one eye, then the other, trying to work out exactly what shade of white it is. I decide that it’s like pure cotton. Not bleached but natural… and then left in the sun; washed and washed again.
I wonder what the time is. I glance at my wrist and am surprised to find my watch is there. But I am in a short sleeved tunic. It is cotton, and soft and light. The bed is soft and lightly covered with layers of cotton sheets. I blink a few times. I don’t feel sick any more. I turn my wrist; two-thirty. I let it roll away, feeling a faint flutter of worry. Why that time? I shut my eyes, and try to let it drift away. I realise I’m holding my breath and let it out in a long sigh; the first sound in this quiet room. I remember two words from the transparent card; Janey’s key words, matched perfectly to her subconscious. The world is not enough. I shake my head from side to side. Where is she? I groan and sigh again. I feel empty and weak. I want to see her. I have no doubt that the horse people are taking care of us. But I must see her… I start to sit up, with some difficulty, finding my right arm feeling bruised. I can’t move to that side to I try to move to the left instead. But it is too much effort. I lay back down.
There was a slight noise then, and a door opened. A tall boy came through it. He was dressed in a pale blue tunic that came down to his knees; his hair was bronze brown and seemed to be divided into several braids down his back. He had a honey coloured complexion of one whose natural colour has been deepened by the sun. On his wrist were several bands of different colours. There was a strange mixture in my mind of tribal colour and sun glowed skin, against the cool almost clinical paleness of the garment. On his feet were blue pumps. The effect was rather like that of a medical orderly. He came over to me; his manner assured and calm.
‘Good morning Tree Man.’ His voice was deep and smooth and calm. It seemed that he was the one who had lifted me from the ground.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
‘It is alright oh Man. You are still waiting for the time for voices to come to you.’ He came beside my bed, ‘Your woman is in a room in the other wing of this building. We took her to my father. He is a great healer. He knows the ways of Travellers.’
I still could not speak; so he continued: ‘I will tell you what I can, as my Father permits me. When you can; this should be when our cook has fed you with good things. She is busy, and will come presently. You strength will return so fast! She will see to it!’
I saw that he was in fact very young. He reminded me of Andre, the tribesman who had befriended us in a different place and time, in another world. He smiled broadly at the mention of their cook. He had obviously been well fed by this particular lady on many an occasion.
‘I will go and see if your food is coming.’ He left abruptly. And I was perplexed by the place now, rather than frightened by it. The strong boy, who looked in physique like an athletic man seemed without guile. I felt reassured. The sense of quiet was intense. There was no noise of machine origin; there was a sense of something bright and fresh, beyond those walls. Sure enough a little while later, a tall lady entered. She wore a red cloth tied over her hair, a sort of brick red dye; natural, I guessed. She had a long tunic of pale yellow and apron of that same sky blue. She had a pale wooden tray. On this were items that I could not identity at all; but were clearly edible.
A little while later when she had sat by the side and encouraged me to eat with a few words, I began to feel my strength come back. She broke off a piece and gave me more of that close grained dark bread that was quite nutty in flavour. I could feel it doing good to me, as the young man returned with a white mug on a tray filled with a hot drink. Curls of fresh steam lifted from it surface. He offered it to me. I got hold of it and peered at the drink which was pale reddish brown and opaque. I was really shocked. It appeared to every perception to be almost exactly like a really good cup of tea. I took an experimental sip. Incredible! It really was tea! I was so stunned by the simple reality of something with which I was familiar and fond of, that it improved my mood enormously. The cook had left then, making satisfied noises. It seemed my reaction had pleased her.
‘You do like this.’ He said, as I carried on sipping at it greedily, ‘would you like another cup of this drink?’
I nodded enthusiastically.
I was sat now in a chair by Janey’s bedside. She was asllep. This was another annex. And everything in here was pale blue. It suited the mood of stillne
ss. I found it difficult to walk; so the boy had carried me. I felt no embarrassment about this. I was glad to be alive. I sat and waited, as he told me that his father would see me soon after I had sat awhile with the “Pale Lady” as he called her. I saw her eyes flicker and for a moment open.
‘Jared…’ she breathed and smiled. That was enough for me. I could feel the emotion welling up. We had survived the most dangerous of time jumps with no preparation. I was about to find out how impossible what we had seemingly done actually was. Janey slept some more then, and the boy came and took me to another room I had not seen before. He made me sit on a long couch with softly padded cushions. And then a man who appeared to be maybe fortyish came in. he sat down on the chair nearby and looked at me carefully. He had the same fine features and but with deep blue green eyes. His hair was swept back and braided down his back, in a way that I found later was functional for this work. He had a tunic of a sage green, and somewhat wide leggings. His slightly paler complexion than his son suggesting one who spends more time indoors studying that outside in the spring sun. It became clear from his speech that he was an educated and knowledgeable man. He did not touch me, and kept well back on an upright chair. The effect was rather like talking to a psychiatrist, while sitting on his more than comfortable couch.
‘I am the director of this facility. My son you have met. And you have sampled my cook’s repast.’ He waited, so I nodded for him to go on.