Bixby stumbled as she looked over her shoulder. She caught her balance and continued but kept her eyes forward. “When Dukmee and I came in, we went around and around and ran into lots of dead ends. Neekoh seems to be headed in one direction. When he makes a turn, we never end up in a cul-de-sac. I don’t think he’s lost. Maybe this path goes down first and then rises.”
From ahead of them, they could hear Bridger’s heavy tread slow and then stop. The three realm walkers dropped to a fast walk.
Stepping out of the rock tunnel, Bixby, Cantor, and Dukmee joined Bridger and Neekoh. Everyone stared at the strange sight in front of them. Only Neekoh looked pleased.
The great, dark emptiness felt gigantic. Bixby assumed the vast cavern stretched upward and outward for great distances. They could not see far, and that added to the illusion of considerable space.
Lights hung around the walls, but the lights did not push back the measureless darkness. The light globes reflected in thin straight lines across the watery surface. A placid lake explained the moist air. Without the sun, moon, or stars, the water looked like a sheet of shiny black cloth.
“What is this?” asked Cantor.
“A lake.” Neekoh looked over his shoulder with his mobile eyebrows arched to their highest points. “You have lakes above, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Cantor’s eyes squinted. “How does this help us escape the mountain?”
“Well, you’ve noticed the rumbly-grumblies aren’t so ferocious now. We’ve come away from the protected area.”
Cantor scowled. “Did you know the trapping wards would spring into being after we broke the first ward? Shouldn’t you have warned us?”
Neekoh looked chagrined. “You see, it has been many years of repeating all the traditions, handed down verbally through the generations. Some of the precise instructions have become untidy. I was trying to remember why the broken ward brought me to the library.”
Bixby’s soft voice inquired. “Did you remember?”
The young man turned gratefully to the only one who did not look angry. “Yes, a few seconds after the sound of the locks closing. I was sent there to decide if you were friend or foe and to rescue you if you were friends.”
Bixby smiled. “Thank you for leading us out.”
Neekoh’s fair complexion turned red. “You’re welcome.”
Cantor stepped between the girl and the stranger. “The exit?”
“We go across the lake, through the rough tunnels to the valley, free Chomountain, and leave by the east gate.” He looked at them, obviously befuddled. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”
Dukmee handed the ward book to Bixby. “Put that somewhere safe.” He turned to Neekoh. “Yes, we want to get out of this mountain. We have an important mission.”
Neekoh grinned and nodded. “To rescue Chomountain.”
“No, to save the nine planes.”
A look of dismay flashed across the guardian’s smooth face. “With Chomountain’s aid, your mission will be accomplished readily.”
Cantor strode forward. “If we have time. We have a limited time to gather the forces to repel the invaders. How do we cross the lake?”
“In a boat.”
“What boat?”
Neekoh put a finger to his chin. He never lost his pleasant expression as he looked back and forth. “Ah!” His eyebrows shot up. He trotted along the shore and came back, dragging an eight-foot skiff.
Cantor’s low voice came out lower and more growly than ever. “We won’t all fit in that boat.”
Still cheerful and smiling, Neekoh nodded. “Hadn’t thought of that. But something will turn up. Something we can use, that is. There are things that might show up that are not helpful at all.”
“Like what?” asked Bridger.
“Toombalians.”
THE OUTSIDE OF THE OTHER SIDE
Cantor searched his mind. Toombalians did not register.
Before he could ask, Bridger voiced his question, “What are toombalians?”
“Mythical creatures,” Dukmee answered.
The mage crouched by the edge of the lake, dipped his fingers in the black water, and then brought his hand to his nose and sniffed. He looked around at his companions. “Nobody drink this. Keep it away from your eyes.”
Bridger lumbered over to the edge of the water. “Mythical? That means fiction, right? Not real?”
“Let me explain.” Dukmee wiped his hand on a handkerchief he fished from his pocket. “Nothing has been written of them since scholars quit recording in the old language. However, in careful anthropologic research, myths often are found to have roots in reality.”
Bridger sat down with a thump.
His constant’s confusion drifted into Cantor’s mind and muddled his thinking. Their minds combined, bundling each of their apprehensions into one tangled web of anxiety.
The shared concern drove Cantor to ask for clarification. “So you’re saying the animals that toombalians are based upon could exist?”
“That’s right, as far as it goes.” Dukmee continued in his teacher mode. “A myth is a strong element in a culture. A story in itself does not meet the criteria. To acquire the status of myth, the tale must stand as an explanation of happenings the populace cannot rationalize with their limited means of science. Myths then take part in the forming of the culture’s religious beliefs, form of government, and their standards or morals.”
A spike of annoyance cleared Cantor’s head. Dukmee used an awful lot of words to say something.
Dukmee continued. “In this case, the mythical toombalians are animals floating in the water like upside down jellyfish. Their tentacles look like plant stalks. These appendages impede the movement of anything on the surface, generally a boat. And they also emit a poison into the air when bumped.”
Cantor wanted to shake the mage out of his arrogant air and bring him back down to being a friend, not a know-it-all. He drew in a deep breath. He knew Dukmee’s scholar persona could disappear as quickly as it had surfaced. In order to tolerate his more obnoxious stances, Cantor attempted to remember how useful the man could be, how generous, how loyal, resourceful, and funny.
Then, as if to deliberately test Cantor’s limits of understanding, the mage took a hamper from his robe and sat on the dark soil of the lake’s shore. He pulled out several glass vials and took samples of the soil and water. With a pen, he carefully labeled his collection.
Cantor turned from Dukmee’s scientific gatherings and looked toward Bridger. The dragon put his hand across his brow as if protecting his eyes from the sun and peered out over the dark expanse. “Does anything live in that lake?”
A smile quirked Neekoh’s lips. “You mean anything like toombalians?”
Bridger puffed out his cheeks. A ring-shaped cloud of smoke escaped his pursed lips. The circle floated over to come down over Neekoh’s head and settle for a moment around his neck. “I mean,” said Bridger in a cool tone, “anything at all.”
Cantor stepped between the two, casually blocking any direct contact. He wondered at the rise of impatience in Bridger. His friend rarely displayed anything but the most genial attitude.
“So, Dukmee.” Cantor turned the conversation. “Are we likely to run into relatives of the toombalians?”
The scholar held up a finger, indicating they must wait a moment for his answer. He finished writing on one of his tubes and packed it with the others in a cushioned box. “Possible, but doubtful. After all, if one hasn’t been reported for an eon, then either they didn’t exist to begin with or their species has died out. I think we’d best worry about crossing this lake.”
Cantor turned to Bridger, sitting with a discontented look on his face and stroking Jesha.
“Bridge, would you be a boat for us?”
“Maybe. Depends on what kind of boat. I won’t be a sailboat. Too many odd pieces. The sails are most uncomfortable.”
Cantor nodded toward the skiff Neekoh had dragged over. “Like this one?
”
Still looking grumpy, the dragon approached the small vessel and looked it over. “Sure. I can do this easily.”
“I’ll go with Neekoh.” Dukmee looked up from his work. “I’m done here. Bixby, are you coming with me or going with Bridger?”
Neekoh took hold of the bow and shoved the skiff into the dark waters. “Two passengers to a boat.” He jumped into the wooden craft. “That puts your girl with the giant.”
“I’m not a giant.” A hiss of annoyance carried the words through Cantor’s pressed lips.
Neekoh sat down, the cheer on his face unmarred by Cantor’s retort. He shrugged and answered, “I didn’t know. I’ve never seen a giant and I’ve never seen anyone as big as you. I thought you were a giant, but since you say you are not, I look forward to meeting someone even larger.”
Bixby tossed Cantor a warning glare, then turned her attention to the unsophisticated man. “It’s all right, Neekoh. We know you didn’t mean to be insulting. Cantor is a realm walker.”
“And,” added Dukmee, “there are no true giants.”
Bridger and Neekoh chorused, “Really?”
“Really.”
“Let’s just hope there are no true toombalians.” Bridger stretched out his wings, making Bixby and Cantor duck. “Sorry, just getting the kinks out before I shift. I haven’t flown in a while, and that’s not good for my circulation. Now I’m going to be a boat. Shifting is good for my overall fitness, but staying boatish for a time is not.”
“It will only take a day or so to cross,” said Neekoh. “I’ve never had any trouble on the water.” He gave a look to Bridger that Cantor took to be an apology. “I’ve never seen anything living in this lake except some plants.”
Cantor glowered at the little man, just to remind him to be more circumspect in what he said. “What is to be our course?”
“Straight away from here. Keep your back to this lighted shore. Just as the glow slides beneath the horizon, look to the shimmer of the water before you. That luminescence gains strength as we travel. After many hours you will be passing over the source of that radiance — tiny, shining water plants. The lake is shallow there, and the tops of these remarkable plants float on the surface.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cantor saw Bixby shiver. He took a long look at his old friend. She almost glowed with excitement.
“It sounds beautiful.” Bixby took in a great breath of air and let it out slowly. Cantor smiled at her obvious effort not to become too giddy.
“It is, but don’t slow down to gaze at them. The tendrils will weave around your boat, er, um, your dragon and not allow you to go farther.”
Cantor mulled through the instructions they had just been given. “We’ll be traveling together. But if we get separated, what landmark are we headed for?”
“A beacon. It is said that those who designed the power supply in the Orrery Chamber put it there. The mechanism looks similar. Not that I have ever seen the power supply in the Orrery Chamber, but that is what is said.” He held one arm up and circulated his fist. “The light turns at the top of a tower, so from a distance, it looks like it flashes at long intervals. Beyond is a vast plain, with no growth, of course. Not much grows without sun or rain.”
Bixby’s eyes glittered. Was it the reflected strange lighting or tears? Cantor couldn’t read her moods as easily as he once did, and he found that disconcerting. He reached for the bond they had developed during their training in Gilead.
“Neekoh,” she said in a soft voice, just a stroke louder than a whisper. “When was the last time you saw the sun?”
“Me?” The young man’s eyes grew big in his thin, pale face. “Years ago. My father handed me the responsibility to guard Chomountain, and of course that means living under the mountain.”
“Does your family still live in here? Is there a village of your people?”
“Oh, no. There’s no one but me. In this part of the mountain, that is. Our habitat is on the side of the mountain, the outside, the other side, the outside of the other side of the mountain.”
He looked around at them with a satisfied grin. He seemed proud of his inept description. He nodded for no reason Cantor could see and continued explaining.
“One day the village will bring me my bride, the prettiest girl ready for marriage. We’ll have a child. If it is a girl, my wife will take the baby and place her in the hands of someone in the village. If it is a boy, we will raise him to take my position. She will carry him back and forth to visit me and to have me teach him all he needs to know to be a guardian.”
Bixby looked troubled, and waves of emotion swept from her to Cantor. Now he wished the bond between them were not so strong.
“So now that you are in the position your father held, did your parents go back to the outside?”
“Yes. And my wife will escort me out when I hand over my responsibilities to our son.”
Dukmee put the last of his hampers away and sprang to his feet. “All very informative. Shall we go rescue Chomountain, and then our worlds?”
“Indeed,” said Bridger as the air cooled and he spread himself out. In only a moment, Jesha sat on one of the three benches within a rustic boat.
Cantor grinned. Neekoh’s skiff had only two seats. Bridger hadn’t been able to resist outdoing the young man by one hard, splintery wood bench.
Bixby stopped Dukmee as he walked to join Neekoh. “Will the water hurt Bridger?”
Dukmee turned to examine the dragon boat. “I think not. He has his head well above the waterline in that rather ostentatious figurehead. The water is placid and won’t splash in his eyes, and he’s not likely to drink it as a boat.” He patted her arm. “He’ll be fine.”
INTO THE DARK
Bixby circled Bridger’s boat shape. “This is much more impressive than the litter. Good job, Bridge. Um . . . how do we make you go?”
With a blast of cold air and a screech, two oars popped out, anchored to rowing rings on either side of the middle seat. Jesha yeowed at the disturbance and hopped onto dry land. She parked herself, assuming the stance of a statue for a moment before beginning a wash ritual. Bixby grinned. Many times she could have used a calming process to soothe her own ruffled nerves.
Bixby plunked down on the ground and pulled out a hamper. Inside, she found scarves, mittens, thick gloves, and knitted hats. She shoved it back into her skirts. The next hamper contained what she wanted.
“Here, Cantor. You should wear these.”
He came over and took the flimsy brown gloves from her hand. “They’re way too small.”
She stood and brushed grit off her skirts. “They stretch.” She saw his look of disbelief as he dangled one glove at eye level. “A lot,” she added. “Try putting them on. Unless you truly want blisters from rowing across the lake.”
Cantor grunted and struggled with one glove until it covered his hand. The material clung like a second skin, but it had stretched enough for comfort. He flexed his fingers.
“They feel slippery.”
“That’s to eliminate friction. The oar won’t rub your skin raw.”
He tugged the other glove on. “These will be useful if they work.”
“Of course they work, Cantor. Dukmee has a pair, and he’ll probably give Neekoh a pair if he needs them.”
As if on cue, Dukmee called, “Let’s get this part of the journey underway.”
Cantor gestured for Bixby to jump in. Jesha followed without being asked. As soon as his female companions settled on the front bench, Cantor shoved Bridger into the glassy water. With one long step, he boarded the vessel, then sat on the middle bench. With oars in hand, he pulled out over the waters. He hadn’t rowed a boat in over a year, but his body remembered the rhythm.
With his back to Bixby, he had to look over his shoulder to see in front of them. He nodded toward the other boat, a few yards ahead. “For such a small man, Neekoh has powerful arms.”
The skiff containing their new acquaintance and Dukmee plo
wed through the dark water with twice the speed Cantor achieved. He put more oomph into his strokes and tried to quicken his rhythm. The other boat continued to put more distance between them.
“Bixby, can you read his aura this far away?”
She squinted as she peered through the darkness. “No, there isn’t enough light, even though Dukmee is holding a glow orb.”
“Can you connect with the mage and caution him? He can tell if Neekoh’s leaving us behind is on purpose. Once he’s read Neekoh, he can either tell him to slow down or warn us of trouble.”
Bixby turned on the front bench and stared again toward the faster skiff. Hearing the conversation startled Cantor.
“We’re falling behind. Is Neekoh deliberately trying to lose us?”
“No, his aura is pleasant. I think he is unaware of anything that is outside his immediate sphere. I’ve been puzzling over his attitude.”
“Please tell him to slow down. I don’t like the idea of crossing this lake, and I surely don’t want to do it without you and Neekoh.”
“Cantor will take good care of you.”
She glanced quickly at her companion and smiled. “I know. But Neekoh knows where we’re going. And you always have a neat bag of tricks.”
“I’ll remind him you are following.”
Neekoh slowed, and Cantor caught up to the first boat. Looking into their traveling companions’ faces and being able to read their expressions helped ease the discomfort of the still, quiet atmosphere. The rings spreading out from each dip of the oars were the only movement on the surface of the water. The only sounds came from the creaking wood of their vessels and the drip of black water from the paddles.
Bixby looked around them and called over to Dukmee. “The lake is kind of eerie, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I find myself straining to listen because there is so little to hear.” Dukmee waved his hand in the air. “And the stillness makes me long for a breeze or raindrops.”
Bixby cuddled Jesha closer to her chest. “I think I would lose my mind if I had to stay here.”
Cantor lifted the oars out of the water and rested. “I hope we aren’t on a wild goose chase.”