The World of Sharlain

  "Thomas, can you make it?"

  "I don't think so. I can't stand heights anyway. I'll fall for sure, that I guarantee." He looked back into the dark cave. "Tell you what. I'll meet you at the bottom. I'll go down the stairs and get out that way."

  "Are you crazy? That, that creature -"

  "Don't worry. I'll just bite off his arms if he gets too close."

  "Thomas, don't go. There's got to be another way down."

  But it was too late. Thomas stalked back into the cave, determined, his head rocking from side to side. Clayton followed him to the top of the stairs and watched as he stepped down, the darkness vanishing with each step.

  "Good luck Thomas. Thomas? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

  Tom spoke from deep within the mountain, the darkness having enveloped the stairwell once more.

  "There's a bloody big lobster here, but I think he's afraid of me. I'll eat the whole goddam thing if I have to. Don't worry Clay. See you outside, at the bottom."

  Clayton heard the scraping, the wheezing. He should never have let Thomas go alone. He started down the stairs, hesitantly, but the light did not brighten with each step. He waited, listened. Silence. He slowly backed up the stairs and walked, shaking, to the ledge.

  *****

  Gloria reached the base of the mountain, walking onto the grassy plain and turning to watch Clayton descend. Together they searched for an exit from the base through which Thomas might appear. A dark cavity glowered from the side of the mountain part way up a gentle slope and they climbed to it, pausing at the entrance. Clayton entered, waited for his eyes to see the interior, walked to the innermost wall and ran his hand across the wet rock.

  "There's no way in. I can't see any door or hole in the wall or any way that Tom could enter here, or get out." He ran his hand slowly across his head. "Let's keep looking."

  For an hour they looked, finding several caves, dark and wet, but always without entrance other than that which opened onto the grassy plain.

  "That stairway from the cave up there, where we entered, surely it leads somewhere."

  "Yes," said Clayton. "It leads down into a large room, with rocks jutting up from the floor and one which has a golden plate with those words written on it. The gorbo stuff, as Tom would say. I didn't get a chance to look at anything else in there, but I agree, there must be an exit which leads down the mountain. Why else would one build such a place? What purpose does it serve?" He groaned. "I never should have let him go back in. But if he makes it to the golden plate, he'll be safe."

  "Safe? How so?" Gloria asked.

  "He just has to read the gorbo words, touch the plate and he'll be safe, back in our world."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I think so. Anyway, there will surely be a way out."

  "Well, it's easier to find your way out than your way in," Gloria said. "Haven't you noticed that? From the center of a city it's easy to find the suburbs but just you try to find the center from the suburbs. Anyway, we'll just wait here. It's a fine day and I'm hungry."

  Gloria dropped suddenly to the ground, crossing her legs and pulling the knapsack from her back. She shook her hair and looked up at Clayton.

  "Egg salad sandwiches okay?"

  Clayton stared. She seemed unperturbed, as though a picnic in Sharlain was a natural event.

  They ate little, waiting as the sky darkened, a cool wind blowing across the plain and up the side of the mountain.

  "Gloria, I have to go back up there and down the stairs, to find Thomas. I never should have let him go alone. I should have gone with him. God, I'm stupid. That bloody monster was down there. What was I thinking? That Tom would just eat another leg off?"

  "Lobster bisque," said Thomas. "Not bad, actually."

  Gloria jumped to her feet and spun on her heel. Thomas Barclay stood tall and smiling, his face streaked with dirt, his shirt torn.

  "Tom! How did you ... uh, what the hell -" Clayton began.

  "Hey, let me tell you guys what happened. I went back down and across to a big huge rock which stuck up from the floor. That bloody lobster, I could see it hiding behind another huge rock. I shouted at it. It didn't move. Coward. Then I looked around for a stairway, to get down here. I kept my eye on that lobster and I looked for a long while. The room was bright, then it got dark again. I couldn't see a bloody thing, I guarantee. Uh, sorry Glory, for the swear words. Then I heard it coming at me, scraping and making a weird little cry. I hid behind the biggest rock, gold sort of. The lobster opened its mouth and the room got bright again. The light was coming from his bloody mouth, I guarantee! His tongue was slithering in and out, then one of those long hairy arms reached out. It was bigger than I remember. No way I could bite it off. Anyway I grabbed it and bit it. A chunk came off and the lobster moved away, but came at me again, this time with two arms. I thought I was gone, it was the end of poor old Tom Barclay. It threw me against the big rock. I was biting off chunks as fast as I could. God-awful slimy! Then it came at me with that bloody big mouth open, red and full of tongue. That's when I saw those words, the gorbo stuff. There it was, right on the rock. I read the words. Christ, I could hardly see them, I guarantee. I had to get the lobster's mouth to light them up so I could see 'em so I shouted at the bastard again and it came at me with open mouth all full of flame or something. I just turned and leaned against the rock and read out those words even though I could hear it coming for me. Then poof! I was out in this field. See? Safe and sound, I guarantee"

  Clayton Chaplain stood, frowning at Thomas.

  "What's wrong Clay. Aren't you glad to see me?" Thomas Barclay said it with a whine, like a child, his eyes glinting in the failing light.

  "This is bad," muttered Clayton. "Very bad. That plate on the golden tower. I just assumed, I just thought it was the Door of Monash, to get us back home again. But it isn't. It just gets you from there to here, wherever here is." Clayton looked around at the now darkened plain. "I haven't any idea of how we'll get back. Christ. I should have thought of that when we were back home. Chief of Security? How'd I ever get that job."

  Gloria held her hand against the dark sky, a glow appearing from the ends of her fingers, faint but visible to both Clayton and Thomas.

  "The amulet! Glory, you're a genius." Clayton bent over and kissed Gloria gently on the cheek. Thomas waited his turn and repeated the gesture then stood back, staring at the amulet.

  "But ... uh, wait. How is Pete going to send in a posse?" Tom asked. "I mean, if he doesn't have that thing then -"

  "We need it more than he does," said Gloria. "Okay gentlemen. Where do we go from here?"

  Clayton stared at her. She had kept the ring, thinking they could use it to return to their world. But what if it behaved like the plate on the golden tower. What if they just reappeared somewhere else in Sharlain?

  "Maybe we should try it, now," he said.

  "Try what, Clay?" Tom said.

  Gloria held up the amulet. "He means this," she said. "Clay thinks this may not get us back home."

  "But it got us here, right?" Tom grunted. "Then sure as shootin' it'll get us -"

  Gloria vanished.

  "Wait! Glory! Wait for us!" Tom was frantic. He rushed to where she had stood.

  Gloria reappeared, bumping him aside and smiling eagerly.

  "Where did you go?" Clay leaned toward her, face twisted as though in pain.

  "Home," she said, "then back again. It's okay. We can get back whenever we want."

  *****

  They all looked across the grassy plain, to the blue hills faint in the evening light, to the sky now dark and foreboding and without a single star.

  "We stay here until morning," suggested Clayton. "I get the impression that day and night are pretty short in this world, so we better get some sleep before our journey."

  "Journey?" Tom asked.

  "To find Gordon," Gloria said, gazing at the dark sky.

  Thomas looked down, sheepi
shly, then at Gloria. He leaned in her direction. "I'm hungry," he whispered.

  Gloria laughed and handed him the knapsack.

  "Help yourself, Tom. Egg salad, okay?"

  *****

  The first light of day met the trio marching across the misty plain toward the distant blue mountains. They had debated the direction and had agreed to head for the blue hills, the only visible landmark other than the mountain which housed the golden tower. Throughout the morning they continued, throughout the bright of day and into the early evening when darkness settled upon the plain and the sky grew gray with wisps of yellow cloud hanging motionless over the hills. Throughout the next morning and day until, on the evening of the second day, they entered a forest which lay at the foot of the blue hills, stopping by a stream which laughed clear and cold on the mossy ground.

  "Great ... I'm thirsty," cried Thomas. "This is just like camping back home. It's the walking I ain't so fussy about."

  Thomas collapsed by the cool stream, scooping the laughing water to his mouth, drinking until his thirst had gone, falling back onto the soft green earth, his shirt streaked with dirt and sweat, his stomach rising berm-like before him.

  "God, that tastes good," he muttered, then fell fast asleep by the stream beneath a tall tree which curved gently to hide the darkening sky.

  "Tom isn't exactly built for walking," whispered Clayton.

  "Don't criticize. Did you see him bite the claw from that … that creature? We're going to need Tom in the days ahead." Gloria drank from the stream and lay against the tall tree, eyes closing into deep sleep.

  Clayton did not sleep but crossed the stream, walking deeper into the forest now dark but for a dim glow from the last light of day. When he reached a small clearing he stopped and gazed up into the evening sky, noting the two great birds circling, hovering, circling, then soaring beyond the trees toward the hills which rose black and sinister. Days were without sun and nights without stars. He turned, walking slowly through the darkness to the stream which laughed, sitting on the moss then closing his eyes, falling back into sleep.

  When they awoke Gloria was gone.

  "Tom, did you see her leave?"

  "No, I was ... uh, sleeping I guess. Maybe she just went for a walk."

  "Then let's keep going, toward those hills. That's where she would go, if she did decide to walk ahead."

  Together they walked, passing the small clearing now bathed in the amber light of morning, into the dark forest of tall trees rising into the glow of a coming day, gnarled trunks, roots twisting from out the moss. For hours they walked and the day grew bright but the forest guarded its darkness beneath the towering trees.

  It was Thomas who first heard the voices in song:

  Begin the day and end the night.

  Guide our way Mune, King of Light.

  Take to thee this plaintive cry.

  Set us free before we die.

  Clayton Chaplain knelt on the mossy ground and crept beyond a scarlet bush, peering over a fallen trunk to the circle of light. A fire flickered with tentative flame, small figures moving in dark silhouette against the ruddy glow.

  "Jeesuz, Jeesuz," whispered Thomas. "They're bloody small, those guys."

  The ring of bodies stopped, turning to gaze into the dark of the forest, to the scarlet bush and fallen trunk which lay at the edge of the clearing.

  "Jeesuz. I think they know we're here," whispered Thomas.

  They were gone. Only the fire's red glow remained, as a jewel to light the gnarled trunks arched high over the clearing. Clayton turned away, creeping from the fallen log.

  "I don't know who they were, but they seemed afraid of something."

  "Of us," grunted Thomas. "Did you see how small they were?"

  They rose, walking cautiously in a wide arc about the clearing, into the forest depths, through the tall trees and beyond to the first gentle slope rising to the blue hills.

  "Clay? Do you intend to climb up that hill?" Thomas stopped, breathing heavily, and gazed with apprehension at the hill. "What do you think is up there? It looks pretty desolate, don't you think?"

  Clayton Chaplain stood by the edge of the forest, gazing up the slope to the blue hill rising above the mist, then back at the rotund figure of Thomas Barclay gasping for breath.

  "Maybe we should find a way around those hills. If we walk along the base, through these woods, we may find a path through the hills." Clayton paused, looking to left and right along the base of the hills. "That stream back there. It was flowing rather quickly. Probably comes down this slope, somewhere. Let's find it again and follow it, back to and hopefully through these hills."

  Thomas groaned, turning to follow Clayton back through the forest, back to the laughing stream beyond the clearing where the fire still glowed.

  "Wait ... listen," whispered Clayton.

  Again, the song announcing the start of day, to the King of Light the plaintive cry: Set us free before we die.

  They were surrounded.

  From every tree sprang a small figure, cap of green and beard of red, sword raised, glinting in the early light.

  Thomas immediately put up his hands.

  "Okay, you got us. Don't shoot."

 

  CHAPTER 7

  the Miriens of Dragomir

  Clayton waited, hands held before him to illustrate their emptiness.

  "We have no weapons," he whispered. "We come in peace, to find a friend."

  Through a gap in the circle of small people came one without a sword but a robe of white and ruddy face and beard of red.

  "Why do you come to the green forest which clothes the feet of the blue hills, to the land of the Miriens, my people, who live in peace and wish no harm to any but those that follow the Prince of Darkness and why do you drink from the Stream of Life which flows from the Mountains of Mune beyond which lies the Black Abyss and the evils of the Dark Lord who seeks to enslave and destroy those that wish only peace? Why do you come to the Kingdom of Dragomir?"

  Thomas had been holding his breath and let it out in a long low whistle. Clayton stepped forward, one step toward the one in white, holding out his hands, palms up.

  "We come to find a friend, now two friends, and we think they may have come this way. One came a day or two ago, well, maybe a week in Dragomir." He scratched his chin. Days seemed to be short and somewhat random in length. "Another friend we lost just this morning when we woke by the ... uh, the Stream of Life, I guess." Clayton turned and pointed. "This is Thomas Barclay. I'm Clayton Chaplain. This morning we lost another comrade. Her name was -"

  "Gloria Jacobs."

  Gloria stepped past the ring of Miriens and stood beside the one in white, the small people bowing in her direction, the point of their swords rising to the vertical.

  "Gloria!" cried Clayton. "How did you get here? We thought, Thomas and I thought -"

  "I'll tell you everything in due time. Now, we should follow Charlie back to the cave."

  "Charlie?" Thomas stared at the one in white, saw him bow deeply, a red smile opening in his red beard, teeth white, green cap pulled off, sweeping in a low arc.

  The small man spoke:

  "Challia er Woller au Potria umbo-Laurion bonderwan Prescille -"

  "That's enough Charlie," said Gloria, placing her hand on the locks of bright red hair. "He talks a good line and sometimes you just have to butt in, but he's a real sweetheart."

  The procession wound its way back to the Stream of Life, following the laughing brook to the foot of the blue hills, into a narrow valley with sides of stone rising straight and cold from the green forest which ran alongside the clear waters. Then Charlie stopped and the procession stopped and the one in white stepped carefully out from the green forest onto a rocky slope.

  "That's it," said Gloria, pointing to an opening barely visible in the side of the cliff. "That's home, but we must go in quickly."

  One by one the Miriens darted
across the slope bathed in the yellow light of day and into the dark opening. Thomas reached the opening, fell to his knees but would not fit. Four Miriens pushed fiercely from behind and Clayton pulled from inside the wall of stone until, with an anal sigh that whispered past the four small people behind and continued down the slope, Thomas Barclay vanished into the black orifice.

  "I think I'll spend the rest of my life in here," groaned Thomas. "Matter of fact, I might have to. Jeesuz, I'll never get out again."

  Charlie bowed deeply, sweeping his green cap from his curly head.

  "From our home within these walls of stone there are many exits onto the Kingdom of Dragomir, to the cool green forest, to the blue slopes beyond the hills and down to the sandy shore which kisses the river that runs to the sea that spans the horizon and even beyond to the -"

  "Okay Charlie, thanks," muttered Thomas. "That makes me happy, I guarantee." Thomas leaned forward and whispered to the one in white. "Uh, say Chuck, you wouldn't have something to eat, would you? I mean, maybe a hamburger or something like that. Even a cheese sandwich would do just fine."

  The one in white placed his green cap firmly upon his head and let his arm continue in a wide arc, pointing at the last of the Miriens vanishing into a cavity that opened to beneath the rocky floor. Charlie smiled and Thomas grinned and they began to descend the stairs which brightened with each step until they reached the bottom.

  Thomas stopped and gazed across the cavern bathed in ochre light, ceiling soaring to unimaginable heights, the far wall too remote to observe. He stood on the last step and gazed out across the vast expanse, spires of stone rising to the ceiling. A path of small tiles wound their way to beyond the spires and he stepped onto the first tile and followed where it led until the path stopped before a golden tower of stone.

  "Jeesuz, I've been here before," Thomas muttered.

  "Yes, it looks familiar, but it's not the same place," said Clayton. "C'mon Thomas, follow me."

  Thomas Barclay gazed at the golden tower. There was no borgo inscription.

  The one in white had gone ahead and Thomas and Clayton followed to beyond the cavern, through a low door which swung open to let them pass, except for Thomas Barclay.