ã€ŠThe Last Dropã€‹


 Chapter One - From Nowhere to Somewhere

    She¡¯d been a selfish, naive idiot.

    That was what it all boiled down to, really. She¡¯d been one of those people, the ones who lived by a ¡®oh that horrible thing will never happened to me¡¯ mindset.

    Ha.

    ¡®Go on home,¡¯ she¡¯d told her coworkers, the caddys and groundskeepers. An hour later she¡¯d walked across the parking lot of the country club, alone, to where her old little blue bug sat parked beneath a flickering floodlight. The sun had set ages ago, but she had laced her keys between her fingers as a make-shift weapon and told herself it would be enough if something did happen.

    Which, of course, it did. And, of course, the keys were useless when someone abruptly seized her around her torso from behind, pinning her arms to her sides, and lifted her clear off the ground. She kicked, and flailed, then when that had no effect she went limp, hollered and shrieked and heard her voice bounce off nothing and no one. She was trapped by bands of iron made flesh.

    ¡°Damnation, woman, hold still-¡± Her attacker¡¯s admonishment was cut off when she slammed her head back and heard a satisfying crunch even as her skull exploded with stars and pain. She heard a hoarse laugh, though not from the one lifting her in a parody of a bear hug.

    There was more than one of them.

    Well, shit.

    Her limbs went numb as icicles of terror spiked through her veins. She stopped feeling where hard, thick fingers were digging into her flesh, stopped feeling the throbbing at the back of her skull. She stopped feeling anything but the need to get away. Her struggles renewed, any semblance of control gone from her thrashing movements.

    ¡°Having trouble, Rowe?¡± Asked the second voice, which she barely heard. The spindly claws of panic were beginning to climb out of a dark pit inside her.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be if you¡¯d help me, Nix.¡± Her captor growled, though now his voice burbled wetly. She¡¯d broken his nose, she realized faintly. That was good, but she still wasn¡¯t free. She screamed again, and then bit the hand that clamped over her mouth to stifle the noise. She heard Rowe let loose a string of what sounded like expletives, though her frenzied mind couldn¡¯t track the words.

    ¡°Let her holler,¡± said Nix, sounding careless. ¡°There¡¯s no one around to hear, I made sure of that.¡±

    The icy panic in her veins became bolts of lighting, aimed directly at her heart. The organ tripped over itself in her chest, and her breath stuck in her lungs. He was right; there were no other cars in the lot, and she¡¯d sent her whole staff home early.

    Was she going to piss herself? She was going to piss herself.

    This was not happening!

    ¡°Where¡¯s Sid?¡± Rowe gurgled. She felt warmth seek through the hair at the back of her head; blood from his broken nose, she realized. ¡°He said he¡¯d be here.¡±

    There was a third kidnapper? Sid, and he was bringing a car? Shit!

    Think, she told herself, You need to think, idiot! She had moments before her chances of escape, possibly even survival, plummeted.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°I¡¯m here, I¡¯m here,¡± gasped a third voice. This one ran around in front of her, and she got her first look at one of her attackers. He was as tall as any NBA player could dream, and as slender as a reed. He held in his hand some sort of leather package, though she didn¡¯t register more than that; she was too busy gaping in sudden, startled recognition.

    He looked, to his credit, thoroughly apologetic as she stared, her struggles ceasing with the weight of her shock. She knew him. She¡¯d hired him!

    ¡°Sorry, Karlene,¡± said Sid, the shy young man with the sweet smile who¡¯d charmed his way into her employ without so much as a resume or reference. He¡¯d said his name was Jon.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do this,¡± she begged, shamelessly, when the hand over her face was removed. She didn¡¯t know what they planned, at the same time believing she knew, and didn¡¯t want to know. She struggled again, but the adrenaline flooding her system was making her shake, and she couldn¡¯t quite get her arms and legs to cooperate as they should.

    ¡°Not gonna hurt you, lady,¡± said Nix, coming into view for the first time. He smiled at her, using far too many teeth in a way she thought was supposed to be rakish. Confusion edged out some of the panic. What kind of attacker bothered to try to charm their victims? The answer that came to her was, in some ways, more horrible than what she had been trying to not think about.

    Nix took something from the leather package in Sid¡¯s hands. She saw something sticking out, something that glinted in the wan light of the sole streetlamp. Her stomach gave a sick flip of dread.

    ¡°Nothing personal, Karlene, promise,¡± Sid said, still looking apologetic. ¡°It¡¯s just, we¡¯ve been trapped here so long-¡±

    ¡°Too damn long,¡± gurgled Rowe. Now that she¡¯d gone limp and trembling, his grip had loosened. Almost the same moment she noticed it, his hold tightened again before she could think of bolting. Even if she had, she wouldn¡¯t have gotten far, not when she¡¯d need to out pace Sid¡¯s long runner¡¯s legs on her shorter, definitely less athletic limbs.

    ¡°Quiet, both of you,¡± Nix snapped, charm vanishing. ¡°She doesn¡¯t need to hear our story, just to bleed.¡±

    Oh, hell, she thought, and screamed again, the loudest, most bloodcurdling scream of her life. Rowe clapped a hand over her mouth once more and no matter how hard she bit he didn¡¯t let go, even when coppery saltiness flooded her mouth and made her gag. She struggled with renewed strength, a fresh wave of terror fueling her kicks and twists. She managed to get one arm free, but it was snatched back almost as soon as she realized it was loose.

    She managed to catch Sid¡¯s guilty eyes once, but his gaze slid away from hers as Nix came at her with the thing he¡¯d taken from the leather bundle; a knife. Slender, with a pale bone handle that gleamed sickly in the fluorescent floodlight. It was what she¡¯d glimpsed earlier.

    If this were a book, she thought, this is where some dashing hero in a cloak would swoop in, blazing with uncanny skill and sexy wit.

    But there was no cloak, no wit. Just the knife, and the hollow of her wrist where Nix pressed it¡¯s needle-like tip as Rowe stretched her arm out to him.

    It had to be the sharpest knife in existence, because she never actually felt it penetrate, just a sudden trickle of warmth running down the side of her wrist. Nix brought a small glass vial to her wrist, pressing it against her disturbingly cold flesh to catch the red rivulets. Nix took the gory vial a few steps away, upturning it to let its contents drip onto crumbling asphalt.

    Then she saw it.

    Etched into the blacktop with dark grey chalk chalk was a circle of markings. There was a pentagram, or something like one, at the very center, surrounded by what looked like drawings by some goth kid trying to be artistic. The sigils looked...familiar, like something she herself might have doodled in one of her darker high school phases.

    The puncture mark on her wrist began to burn, the sensation stark against the shock-chilled rest of her. The heat spread as Karlene watched the red drops, nearly black in the dim light, fall from the vial to strike the circle of chalk. Where they landed the lines flared and left behind a scorch mark exactly alike to the chalk that was no longer there. Splat, fizz, flash. Splat, fizz, flash. It happened again and again as Nix walked in a precise path so that her blood fell on all quadrants of the circle.

    As he stood back and capped the vial, the scorch marks began to spread on their own, connecting to each other and burning away the chalk. In a moment, the whole design burned as if made from embers.

    Rowe pulled her away, and she thought maybe they were done, maybe now that they¡¯d done their insane little satanic thing they¡¯d be focused on whatever came next and she could escape. Rowe shoved her to Sid, and for a moment she felt a spark of hope-

    Instead, Sid tied a rope around her wrists while not looking at her, staring instead at where the circle was doing...something. Once she looked at it, she couldn¡¯t look away. The lines were...thickening. Rising. Becoming three dimensional.

    ¡°What the¡­¡± she breathed, and then she was being hauled by her wrists towards the rising pillar of smoke and ash and charred asphalt. A roar was building in the air, like an entire storm was contained in that five-foot circle.

    The swirling column rose higher and higher, the sensation of elemental powers in the air making the hairs on her arms stand upright. As terrified as she¡¯d been before, that terror quieted in the face of the otherworldiness staring back at her from the pillar¡¯s ember-and-ash depths.

    ¡°Hold on to me!¡± Sid hollered in her ear, using her bindings to pull her against him. He ducked into the circle of her arms, wrapped his own around her. With her hands tied and him clasping her so tight, the only way she¡¯d get free was if her hands were detached from her wrists. When he threw himself backwards into the swirling smoke, she had no choice but to fall with him, screaming while he laughed.

 Chapter Two - From Bad to Worse

    <h1>-Chapter Two-</h1>

    They landed in water, the only thing that saved Karlene¡¯s hands from being crushed beneath them, as they hit with Sid¡¯s back first. Icy darkness closed over her head, and the last breath she managed to suck in was half seawater. Sid slipped free of the ring of her arms and began to swim upwards, hauling her up with him by her wrist bindings. She kicked, since she had no desire to drown, and propelled herself upwards. Her head broke the surface and she gasped, knowing her one chance at escape might be this moment of chaos. She heard two other bodies hit nearby, loud cries and splashes, mingled whoops of laughter and curses of dismay.

    ¡°You missed!¡± She heard Nix shout. Sid was laughing.

    ¡°You said ¡®within sight of the fort,¡¯¡± Sid replied. He gestured grandly, splashing Karlene at the same time. She was doing her best to drift away unnoticed. Sid had gestured to, she saw with faint surprise, an actual stone fort that sat on a cliff not far away, overlooking a rocky beach. Karlene glanced around and saw that behind them, further out to sea, was a small rocky island sporting a dense cluster of gnarled, stubborn trees. If she could get to it, she might be able to hide. She was a good swimmer. Perhaps not good enough to overcome the choppy ocean waves with tied hands, but good enough to try. She gave one small, unnoticeable kick beneath the water, propelling herself away.

    Sid casually reached behind him, without looking, and grabbed her arm. He as much pulled himself to her as he pulled her to him, but the result was the same; she was caught before she¡¯d even really had a chance to flee. She gave a wordless cry of frustration and tried to kick him, which in the water did little more than cause her leg to bump against his. He grinned at her, his exaltation overshadowing his earlier regret.

    ¡°Hate me all you want,¡± he said. ¡°But thank you.¡±

    She blinked at him, her eyes going comically wide. A thank you? For what, bleeding? Someone ought to tell him a person didn¡¯t get much choice in the matter when you stuck them with a knife.

    Before she could respond, Sid started swimming after his two companions with long, sure strokes. It was slow going, given that he was pulling her along and she was determinedly Not Helping. The salty, icy plunged had done a great deal to douse the fire of her terror, almost as much as the bizarre nature of this abduction. She was beginning to wonder if this was the most vivid, tangible dream of her life.

    Sid eventually tired of her attempts to fight off his hold and slow their watery progress. He hooked one arm around her torso, under her arms, and tugged her along through the water on her back. If she struggled, her head went down for a spluttering mouth and noseful of burning salt water. She stopped struggling.

    She¡¯d wait til they got to the beach, she decided, her mind racing. They¡¯d be exhausted from swimming, and she¡¯d be rested. Well, more so than them.

    When Sid finally hauled her onto the rocky shore, however, she realized that while she¡¯d been floating on her back staring at the horizon, away from the beach, newcomers had gathered at the edge of the surf and were waiting to haul the swimmers onto dry land. Within moments she was surrounded at least a half-dozen smiling, laughing people. She opened her mouth to shout for help, but all that came out was a coughing splutter as a rogue wave filled her mouth.

    A woman with drab coloring and arms like hams hauled her out of the frothing, icy surf.

    ¡°Please,¡± Karlene gasped. ¡°Help me, these men-¡±

    She stopped when she caught sight of the woman¡¯s face, frowning at her as if she¡¯d kicked her puppy. Karlene¡¯s ears took in again the sounds of laughter, of greeting, and her heart plummeted; these people would not help her.

    Never letting go of Karlene, even while she shouted greetings to the other swimmers, the frowning woman dragged her to a wagon where Karlene found herself simultaneous trussed up like a sausage in a soft, warm blanket and her hands filled with a cup of steaming liquid. Even having done nothing more than keep herself afloat, exhaustion pulled at her every sense like she was a car trying to run off a AA battery.

    Madame Ham-Arms reached for Karlene¡¯s still rope-bound wrists and swiftly replaced the soaked bindings with a genuine medieval shackle nailed to one of the wagon¡¯s posts. Karlene blinked at dark band of metal, incredulous. Zip ties or handcuffs or duct tape she¡¯d expected, but¡­ Shackles?

    ¡°Drinnk,¡± the woman commanded, then her attention was pulled away from Karlene by a sharp bark of laughter. Madame Ham-Arms went back to embrace tall Sid, then swarthy Nix, then the behemoth she assumed was Rowe, the one who¡¯d been holding her and whose nose she¡¯d broken with the back of her now throbbing skull. There were two more men with them that she didn¡¯t recognize, and a third seated on the wagon¡¯s driver¡¯s seat.

    Feeling somehow like she was betraying herself, Karlene sipped at the drink without really tasting it. With some warmth inside her, she made herself blink through the exhaustion, enough to notice where she was and what was going on. That was important, she knew. When she was able to get free, she¡¯d need to be able to tell police about who had taken her, as much as she could.

    The wagon she sat on was hitched to a large shaggy horse. The two men and Ham-Arms were bundling all three of her kidnappers in as many blankets as could be wrapped around a person, chaffing arms and legs to return blood flow. They were all laughing, smiling, welcoming the trio back. They all wore rough clothing, the sort a high-end costume department could put together for a Tolkein project, tunics and jackets, skirts and bodices. Cloaks, thick boots. Light accents she couldn¡¯t pinpoint. Only Rowe had visible scars of any note, and only the wagon driver had a tattoo, the edge of which was barely visible above the collar of his shirt.

    As she examined them, Karlene realized that aside from Ham-Arms¡¯ occassional glares, she was being ignored. Completely. And less than a hundred yards away, a dense forest waited for her, brimming with promise of concealment...

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Karlene blinked at the trees, dredging up what memories she could of wildlife survival. Stay near the water. There was always, eventually, civilization near water. Bury herself in leaves and dirt at night for insulation. Some tree bark pulp could be eaten; stay away from mushrooms and berries unless she was one-hundred-and-ten percent sure she knew what it was.

    She could make it, if she could get past Ham-Arms.

    A faint burning sensation on her hand let her know she¡¯d tipped her cup. Against her sea-frozen skin, the lukewarm broth felt almost scalding. She set the cup aside, head beginning to spin as she did so. She shook herself; she needed to focus.

    Karlene looked back at the trees. She should run. She had the cup, to catch dew for water, and the blanket, and¡­

    She had stood, she realized, but didn¡¯t remember moving. And the ground was...wavering. That wasn¡¯t right. She felt drunk, but there had been no alcohol in her cup, she knew that much. She peered at it, sitting innocently on the wagonbed¡¯s planks. This couldn¡¯t be simple exhaustion¡­

    ¡°I think you¡¯ve had enough of that, now, my lamb,¡± said a rough female voice. Karlene looked over at Madame Ham-Arms, who¡¯d left the circle of kidnappers and enablers and was now standing in front of Karlene, smiling with as much condescension as was possible to fit into an expression. ¡°Give it here.¡±

    Ham-Arms held out a hand for Karlene¡¯s cup. She didn¡¯t want to give it over, it was part of her escape plan! She found herself reaching out, picking up the cup with trembling fingers, and passing it quietly to Ham-Arms. She couldn¡¯t not.

    Through a fog of confusion, Karlene realized she¡¯d been drugged.

    That, more than anything else that had happened, fed the anger and fear inside her. The hot terror that had been temporarily quenched by her dip in the ocean flared hotter. She began to breathe harder, drawing in harsh, ragged gasps of air. The blanket around her suddenly felt tight, abrasive. She shrugged it off. Madame Ham-Arms put it back.

    ¡°Come, now,¡± said the woman again. ¡°You leave that on, my lamb.¡± And just like that it was as if Karlene¡¯s unwilling obedience was renewed. No matter how hard she tried, she could not quite follow through on any decision to rid herself of the blanket again. Her skin itched, and she scratched at herself. The knife prick at her wrist burned, and she clawed at it until her fingertips were red. It helped her remember herself, helped keep that flame of fear inside her alive.

    The woman noticed Karlene¡¯s clawing at her inner wrist and patted Karlene¡¯s arm. ¡°Now, stay here, won¡¯t you? There¡¯s a good lamb.¡± She made no move to stop Karlene from scarring herself.

    Karlene, to her shame, stayed. Not just in the wagon, but precisely as she was; slumped against the wagon¡¯s wall, all fight gone out of her. She only stirred when a large man came to the wagon, a man with a face her addled mind faintly recognized. Or at least, the smooshed mess of his broken nose tingled something like a memory¡­

    The man let down the back end of the wagon to reach in, grab her by her face, and haul her close enough for him to plant his generous mouth over hers. The kiss was hard, but brief. Shock and the drug prevented her from doing anything more than squeaking wordlessly against his mouth, but then she knew him; it was Rowe. His broken nose was a flattened mess, but at least their swim had washed away the blood and spared her that grisly situation.

    ¡°That was for saving us,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°You have my eternal thanks, dropling.¡± And he patted her in much the same way the woman had, climbed into the wagon with all his blankets, and promptly passed out beside her.

    Sid, Nix, Ham-Arms, and the other two men came along shortly after, settling around Rowe¡¯s prone mass with similar grunts of thanks in her direction. None of them -thankfully- tried to express their mysterious gratitude the way Rowe had.

    Karlene spent the wagon ride back to the fort -because where else would they go?- in a daze. Her kidnappers slept on the way back, but despite the pull of her own exhaustion she stayed wide awake. She had to. She dug a thumbnail into the wound in her wrist until it bled again, banged her elbows on the wooden planks, anything to stay alert. She had to see, had to remember.

    She studied the sleeping faces around her, kept track of how long it took to ride from the beach to the fort, noted the position of the sun and which direction they were going.

    She also noted the lack of telephone poles, of cellphone towers. No planes buzzed overhead, and she didn¡¯t see a single motorized vehicle. Not so much as a discarded candy wrapper or plastic grocery bag marred the forest they rode alongside. Wherever they were, it was pristine, free of any sign of civilization. Modern civilization, at least.

    She couldn¡¯t think about what that meant, not yet. Right now, everything she¡¯d learned from being an NYPD detective¡¯s daughter was hammering what little consciousness she had left. Stay calm, stay cooperative, memorize faces and voices and any sights or noises that might tell her more about where she was.

    Eventually they finally rolled to a stop in what was, undeniably, a courtyard out of some medieval reenactor¡¯s wet dream, complete with horses, horse handlers, people running to and fro with baskets and crates and other work-related armfuls. The wagon stopped near a massive set of stone steps that took up one entire side of the square courtyard, and her kidnappers all shuffled past her and down off the wagon, to disappear into the fort. Only Ham-Arms remained, and she pulled Karlene from the wagon with hard hands.

    Karlene expected to be taken to some sort of dungeon, complete with racks and chains. And there were chains alright, and it was underground, but it was no dungeon. She was brought to, for lack of a better word, a kitchen. Although it was hardly recognizable as such, being the furthest thing possible from her mother¡¯s clean and modern kitchen.

    The floors and walls were huge slabs of dark stone, the roof a mess of wooden planks and support beams, all smeared and streaked with years¡¯ worth of smoke and grease. The chains held up a huge wagon-wheel chandelier lit with dozens of fat candles, the wood and iron of it completely concealed beneath layers of melted wax.

    A huge fireplace took up one entire wall, and Karlene saw multiple spits, empty, suspended over the coals being tended by a skeletal wraith of a girl. A long trestle table held baskets full of potatoes, onions, and turnips, all spotted and discolored. Bunches of herbs were tied with twine and suspended from a latticework that hung from the beams; both the beams and the herbs they were covered with dust and soot.

    The whole place smelled of blood, smoke, and burnt bread.

    There were other people in the kitchen aside from the fire-tending girl, but none of them looked up from their tasks, none of them smiled or laughed or greeted the Ham-Armed woman who called Karlene ¡®lamb.¡¯

    From behind, Madame Ham-Arms steered Karlene towards another door on the far side of the kitchen, and opened it with one of many keys hung from a hempen cord around her neck. Karlene was shoved from behind, and she stumbled down the dozen or so steps before catching herself. She turned to glower up behind her. Some of her will was returning, and she used it to do something she knew her mother would have told her not to do; she spat up at the woman¡¯s feet. The spittle hardly landed more than two or three steps up, and the Madame Ham-arms only cackled.

    ¡°What a feisty lamb! Behave yourself, now. Down there¡¯s our food stores, all nicely sealed to keep vermin out. I count everything every morning, so if so much as a nibble is missing I¡¯ll know. There¡¯s rats down there now and again, and for every one you catch it¡¯s an extra slice of rye at dinner for you. This¡¯ll be where you¡¯ll be useful in between trips.¡±

    ¡°Trips?¡± Karlene echoed, blinking up at the glowering woman. ¡°Useful?¡± Then, ¡°Wait, rats?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend to be daft, now. It¡¯ll serve you no better than spitting.¡± Then she shut the cellar door, and in the heavy silence Karlene heard nothing but tumblers falling into place.

    The utter solitude brought numbness, then panic, then numbness again. The burn of terror in her chest had finally burned itself down to mere embers. Karlene stood, blinking, until she realized the darkness was not absolute, that there was a faint sliver of illumination from beneath the door. The kitchen as a whole had been dim, however, so the light that came through was barely enough to reach a few steps down.

    Karlene sat on the top step, and began to shiver. She wished she¡¯d kept ahold of that blanket, which she¡¯d ended up leaving in the wagon, but it was too late for wishes. She was shaking, and sweat had begun to bead on her brow and chest. She didn¡¯t know enough to know if it was shock, or if she already had a fever, or if this was some after effect of whatever the woman had drugged her with to make her complacent.

    What she did know was that she didn¡¯t know where she was, how she¡¯d gotten there, who had taken her or why, and her socks were soaked and freezing.

    Despite that, she didn¡¯t start with the embarrassing noises until she heard the faint squeaks and scratches from below.

 Chapter Three - From Impossible to Possible

    <h1>-Chapter Three-</h1>

    She woke to a warm weight on her lap, and sharp teeth nibbling at the wound at her wrist. She screamed before she even fully comprehended the why of it, flailing and slapping blindly at the thing that was abruptly no longer there, darting down somewhere into the dark.

    She pressed herself back against the door, panting and gasping, feeling at her wrist. It had only bitten her the once, but she felt as if she¡¯d been doused in filth all over a hundred times. A shudder went through her, and she tried to block out the sounds of scrambling and scratching going on at the bottom of the steps.

    She had no idea how long she¡¯d been asleep, but thinking of time made her remember what was in her pocket, what her captors had not taken. From the back pocket of her jeans she pulled her phone, safe in it¡¯s waterproof case. The sudden illumination from just the locked screen made her sag with relief; the case had been worth every penny. That, however, was abruptly buried beneath a sudden avalanche of hope.

    She¡¯d never dialed three numbers faster in her life.

    She held the phone to her ear, clutching it like it held her freedom and safety in its silicone confines, heart pounding hard enough that she was worried about being able to hear the emergency dispatcher over the rushing in her ears.

    Nothing.

    She looked at the screen in confusion.

    No.

    No.

    She dialed again.

    A pair of beeps, then the message, ¡®No signal.¡¯

    She must still be asleep. She was having a nightmare. This whole thing had to be a nightmare. It had to be.

    It wasn¡¯t. She knew that. She wasn¡¯t going to even try to convince herself it was and do something stupid like jump off a cliff. She¡¯d had enough vivid, detailed, horrible and wonderful dreams in her life to know the difference.

    She clutched the phone to her chest, switching the screen off to save the battery until she could figure out what it might still be good for. Light, if nothing else.

    She put her phone back in her pocket, her clothes having mostly dried to uncomfortable stiffness, and searched her other pockets. Her jeans were form fitting, more fashionable than functional. Her plain cotton tank had been meant to be hidden beneath an oversized hoodie, but that had been hung over her arm when she¡¯d been jumped; it was long gone now, probably still in the parking lot.

    She found a hair tie in one front pocket and a spare set of car and house keys in the other. Her debit card and ID were in her other back pocket. Not that either rectangles of plastic would do her any good.

    Karlene let her head thump back against the door, and she winced. She¡¯d forgotten about breaking Rowe¡¯s nose with her cranium. She frowned, thinking of the big man who¡¯d...er, thanked her.

    Now that her panic had subsided, Karlene couldn¡¯t help but ponder the oddity of everything that had happened. There was no way to ignore or rationalize away one simple fact; this was not a standard kidnapping, in any way. At best, she¡¯d found herself the guest of some sort of nest of anti-technology cultists. But that didn¡¯t explain the sudden drop into the water. Or the pillar of sooty runes and charred ash. The only thing she could think of to explain that bit was that there had been some sort of hallucinogenic on the knife, something strong enough that just the tip of it had delivered enough of the substance to make her see impossible things.

    She stared into the darkness, thinking. Not a dream, that she knew. But a hallucination? That seemed slightly more probable. Not all of it had been an illusion, obviously. She probably really was somewhere dark and dank and infested with rats, and she had probably really ridden here in something...but perhaps it had been a beaten up truck with a wooden bed, not a wagon. And perhaps they hadn¡¯t dropped out of the air into the ocean, but driven there and jumped off a bridge. The fort might be a hut, the medieval kitchen some makeshift camp mess. If she were in the UK somewhere, the castle theme might have been more rational, but one thing the good ol¡¯ US of A was not well-stocked in was castles.

    She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, feeling gritty and dirty and hardly human. She wanted a shower, food, a hospital bed and a banana bag to help her detox.

    And her mom. She wasn¡¯t too proud to admit it. Damn impending adulthood, damn the looming start of her freshman year at grad school, damn her independence; she wanted her mother to yank open the door behind her, scoop her up, and take her home where things made sense.

    As if a genie had listened in and decided to grant the wrong part of her string of wishes, the door was yanked open behind her. It was not, however, her mother doing the door opening.

    Karlene gave an undignified squawk as she fell backward, banging her head hard on the stone floor. She hissed and gripped her skull, willing the sudden pounding to stop long enough for her to see, aim for, and kick whoever had startled her.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    It was Sid, she saw, leaning over her with a bland expression. She supposed he must be done feeling sorry for what he¡¯d helped do to her, now that he was back with his own insane...family? cultists? posse?

    Deciding she didn¡¯t care, she lunged, hands curled into claws. He caught her wrists, his bland face transforming into one of surprise. She heard a familiar cackling laugh behind her, and a stick came out of nowhere, sweeping her legs out from under her. She landed hard on her tailbone, and yelped.

    ¡°Easy there, my lamb. Won¡¯t do no good to bite the hands that feed you, will it? Now you¡¯ll have no breakfast.¡± The woman laughed again, one hand on her hip, the other planting the stick she¡¯d used to trip Kalene against the stone floor. She was missing teeth, Karlene noted while she waited for sensation to return to her rear end. Several teeth. And the rest were yellowed and crooked. If she¡¯d ever seen a dentist -or hell, a toothbrush- it had been before her adult teeth had grown in.

    ¡°Kiss my ass,¡± she hissed through her own teeth, barring them.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tease her, Milly,¡± Sid said, and he sounded tired. She looked at him again and saw, unwillingly, that he hadn¡¯t recovered from their swim. Or maybe he¡¯d gotten high on whatever she clearly was still on and hadn¡¯t come down. Either way, she refused to feel sympathy for him.

    The Ham-Armed woman, apparently called Milly, snorted. ¡°Not teasin¡¯ if I mean it, now is it? You went and lost Mynda, and now I have to train a whole new dropling with hardly any notice. Did you know Lithandres wants her to Shift you lot as soon as the day after next? Can¡¯t be done, I told him, she doesn¡¯t know yet what¡¯s good for her, not like my sweet Mynda. Aye, now there was a good girl-¡±

    ¡°Enough, Milly.¡± Sid said, and Milly, for a wonder, shut up. Where had this quiet authority been when Sid, calling himself Jon, had walked into her pristine shop covered in mud and grass and begged for a job?

    He extended a hand down to her. She ignored it, and pulled herself painfully, every muscle cramping and stiffening in turns, to her feet. This was no worse, she told herself, than the morning after she¡¯d moved out of her mother¡¯s house and into her own apartment. Up four flights of stairs. By herself. In one day. After skipping leg day for two weeks straight.

    Sid shrugged and pulled something from his back pocket. It was a pair of bracelets, wide cuffs of a silvery metal. They were etched with more of the same sigils she remembered seeing in her hallucination, the one that had been drawn onto the asphalt and had flashed to glowing lines of embers at the touch of her blood.

    Sid held the cuffs up and hooked her gaze with his.

    ¡°These,¡± he said. He nudged a coil of rope at his feet. ¡°Or that.¡±

    She blinked at him. The bracelets weren¡¯t connected by anything that she could see. Without being able to help herself, she gave him the most incredulous stare she¡¯d ever given. He sighed.

    ¡°I keep forgetting. You look so much like them.¡± He gestured to Milly, whose jaw dropped.

    ¡°You can¡¯t mean to-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take them right off. You know they won¡¯t work on you for more than an hour even if I didn¡¯t.¡±

    Milly sniffed, lifted her chin, and leaned her stick against the cellar doorframe before extending her arms. He slid the bracelets over her hands to settle on her wrists. Sid made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, then shrunk that circle. At the precise same time, the bracelets shrank until they fit snugly around Milly¡¯s wrists.

    Karlene gaped.

    ¡°Do it again,¡± she said without meaning to. Sid looked at her, surprised. ¡°Do it again,¡± she repeated, impatient. There had to be a trick to it. Had to be. She just had to catch it. Some sleight of hand, or something electronic. For the sake of her sanity, she neatly ignored the little voice of logic that told her the chances of finding an electronic toy advanced enough to do that anywhere around here was as improbable as the chance that everything she¡¯d seen was a hallucination.

    Sid obliged, but she didn¡¯t see any wires, or chips, or shifting links or hinges. The bracelets simply shrank.

    She still didn¡¯t see how they were an alternative to rope, until Sid pinched his thumb and forefinger together, and Milly¡¯s wrists were yanked together as if an invisible zip tie and been tightened around them. The bracelets stuck fast until Sid made the same motion in reverse.

    ¡°They can do more, but nothing I¡¯m going to do to Milly.¡± Sid said, and Milly sniffed, looking as aloof as a drowned cat. He made the loop gesture again, this time disconnecting his forefinger and thumb, and the bracelets expanded back to their original size.

    ¡°Now,¡± he said. ¡°Rope or cuffs?¡±

    She eyed him like he was insane, lifted her chin and answered, ¡°Rope.¡±

    He looked surprised for some goddamn reason. Rope she could cut, could twist free of, even use against him if she managed to find both the opportunity and her hidden inner kungfu master. She had no idea how she¡¯d get out of his magic trick cuffs, if that¡¯s what they were. Better the bindings she knew than the trick she didn¡¯t.

    As if he were obliging her in some great favor, Sid sighed -again- and stooped to grab the coil of rope.

    She saw the opening, and almost without thinking Karlene lashed out, kicking her right foot up into his face. She felt a snap as her foot slammed into his nose and spared half a thought to hope it had been his face and not her foot that had broken as she turned and bolted.

    The bland faces of the kitchen staff glanced at the commotion but did and said nothing as she sprinted past, hearing Milly shriek and Sid yelp behind her.

    She thanked her mother an endless number of times as she followed the route she¡¯d been taken along yesterday in reverse. Half limping, half running, she knew if she hadn¡¯t managed to pay partial attention the night before she would have been lost in moments.

    She slowed when she reached the courtyard. There had been several people working in it yesterday, and seeing her stumbling like a bat out of rehab hell would be sure to raise alarms. She let herself slump, going listless and as dull as she could, like she¡¯d seen almost everyone else act. With adrenaline spiking her blood and her pulse pounding it was harder than it should have been, but she eventually made herself step out into the sunlight. She did her best to adopt the attitude of the kitchen staff, slack shouldered and empty eyed, gaze downcast as she shuffled across the hard packed dirt and sparse layer of straw. Her nose told her which way the latrines were -oh, ew- and she headed for them. If she could get out of sight again and make her way around the edge of the courtyard, keeping behind the barrels and carts she could see¡­

    When no one seemed to notice her or her direction, hope flared. She glanced behind her, half expecting to see Sid and Milly. Why hadn¡¯t they followed yet?

    There was a commotion so sudden and so loud at the main gate that she forgot for a moment her dullard disguise and looked, sharply, towards the noise. Courtyard workers who had been busy tossing hay to horses, fixing saddles, and any other number of archaic things she didn¡¯t understand were dropping their tools and rushing to the opening gates, whooping as they went.

    Now was her chance. She half ran, half limped to a pile of barrels and crates by the gate, and ducked out of sight to watch and wait for her opening. Soon as whatever had them all excited was through, she¡¯d run before they could close the gate again.

    A half dozen horses of varying quality -even she could tell the gray gelding was on its last legs- thundered through into the courtyard, their riders all laughing through their evident exhaustion. In their midst, the one member of their party not laughing stuck out like a sore thumb. He was a dark haired man, younger than the rest, and he was tied to his saddle.

    Horse and man both hung their heads, but at least the horse had been fed and was relatively clean. The man, not so much. His face was pinched with exhaustion and hunger, his shoulder blades protruding through the thin shirt that, aside from a pair of pants that ended raggedly at the knees, was all he wore. She caught glimpses of thread that glinted at the outer seam of his pants. They¡¯d been nice, once.

    ¡°Well, now, this is convenient.¡± Said a voice deep enough to vibrate her bones. She glanced to the source, a man standing atop the wide, sweeping stone steps. Immediately, she had to do a double take. Rub her eyes. Blink harshly. Gape.

    Reassess her hallucination theory.

    She¡¯d only half convinced herself she¡¯d been hallucinating before now. The speaker, however, was all the proof she needed that something was not right with the gray matter between her ears.

    He was tall, blonde with massive shoulders, wearing soft white clothing of quality make and cut. And from his back, half furled, extended...

    Wings.

 Chapter Four - From Here to There

    <h1>-Chapter Four-</h1>

    He had wings. And either there was a Weta workshop on steroids hidden here somewhere, or¡­

    Or.

    Karlene had seen some grade-A fabrication works in the costume world. She¡¯d never seen a pair of wings that made her think, on an instinctive level, those are real. And yet some part of her animal subconscious took in the subtle shift of the feathers as the skin and muscle beneath them moved, as the wind changed and the appendages adjusted to compensate, and told her that the wings she¡¯d seen win awards, and these things were about as different as a real wild lion and his famous animated king of the savannah cousin.

    The winged man was tall, as tall as Sid but built like a linebacker. He wore more or less the same clothing as everyone else, but of obviously better quality. His hair was shorn short, nearly militarily so, and was a soft, pale gold not unlike her own natural color.

    ¡°We thought we¡¯d save you the trouble of travelling all the way to Dazodisa, sire.¡± One of the men had dismounted and was grinning ear to ear as he untied the bound man from the gelding¡¯s saddle and hauled him down. From the look of the way the young man stumbled, his legs shaking, he hadn¡¯t been let off that saddle hardly at all since he¡¯d been put on it. Karlene winced in sympathy.

    The winged man stepped in front of the newly dismounted captive, peering down at him with an intent expression.

    ¡°Have you been dosing him?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°How long since his last?¡± The winged man had removed a small knife from his belt, and was reaching for the man¡¯s bound hands.

    ¡°Barely an hour. He should be coming out of it soon,¡± replied the one who¡¯d pulled the captive down from his saddle.

    ¡°What is your name?¡± Asked the winged man, cutting the youth¡¯s hands free.

    Of all things, the bound man snorted. ¡°You ask that now? Rather backwards way of going about this, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± His voice was slurred, and Karlene guessed he¡¯d been given some of the same stuff she had the night before. Karlene wasn¡¯t sure, if Milly had asked, that she would have been able to do anything but blurt her name drunkenly. Either his dose was very close to wearing off, or he was just that much more stubborn than she.

    The winged man gripped the youth¡¯s chin and turned his face from side to side. ¡°Oh, we know who you are. But there is power in the giving of a name. You will give me yours.¡±

    The man only smiled blithely.

    This was when she should run, she realized abruptly, while everyone -including her, for a moment- was engrossed in the peacock show going on in front of them. The wide open gate was only a few feet to her left, and nothing between her and it but a few empty crates she could -probably- jump over.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    At the precise moment she¡¯d tensed to leap and bolt, a pair of hands clamped down around her arms from behind. Another pair fumbled at her wrists. She struggled, yelping without meaning to and drawing the attention of the winged man and the dismounting party.

    ¡°I gave you a choice,¡± Sid said, sounding grim. Milly, the one struggling to get ahold of her wrists, had the bracelets in hand. Now, more than before, she did not want those things on her, or anywhere near her. She twisted, contorting herself in ways she never knew she could, and bit the woman¡¯s hand hard enough to make Milly herself yelp and withdraw.

    ¡°Are we going to have to muzzle you, too?¡± Sid growled. ¡°Stop biting us.¡±

    ¡°Stop trying to tie me up!¡± She snapped in reply. ¡°Or stabbing me!¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t stab you-¡±

    ¡°A knife, my skin, and blood was involved so yes you stabbed me!¡±

    ¡°Problems, Sid?¡±

    Karlene froze. Thankfully, Sid and Milly froze also. They all looked to the giant winged man who, now closer, was much larger than she¡¯d first thought. The massive shoulders she¡¯d noted earlier were big enough to almost make him look malformed. He was taking in the sight of the three of them, mid struggle, with a cool indifference that was more frightening than any glower she¡¯d ever seen before.

    Milly snapped out of it first, and reached over to shove one of the bracelets around Karlene¡¯s left wrist. Karlene snarled and yanked away, managing to pull free of Sid and Milly both and make a stumbling leap over the crates towards the gate. She didn¡¯t jump high enough, and her injured foot caught on a protruding bit of wood and she fell, hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. She twisted as she fell to land on her back, gasping like a fish, her spine a lightning rod of pain.

    Just as she managed to force her lungs to inflate and take a breath, a massive hand clamped down around her bare arm and hauled her to her feet. Another hand matching the first settled on her shoulder, holding her fast, and she knew, abruptly, that she was going nowhere.

    She didn¡¯t look up at the winged giant, but saw him hold out his other hand. Saw Milly obediently set the second cuff in his waiting palm. Saw him reach down, and -no matter that she tried to pull away- slide it onto her other wrist. He made the shrinking gesture, and Karlene felt the cool caress of the metal as it settled as close to her skin as possible. Her hands twitched, fingers curling into her palms, and she felt the metal shift with her skin. There wasn¡¯t the slightest bit of pressure on the veins of her inner wrists or the bones of her forearms, but the cuffs were there.

    Why? she wanted to ask. What did they want with her? Why was she here?

    She bit her tongue and glared at the dirt.

    ¡°If you bite another of my people again, I will let them do worse than muzzle you,¡± he said, voice booming above her like the slow roll of distant thunder, somehow calming and terrifying at once. She believed him utterly.

    Sid came up to her side and took her by the arm. He didn¡¯t move to turn the bracelets to manacles like she¡¯d seen him do, but she had no doubt he¡¯d do what he needed to make her cooperate.

    And then, to her terror, Karlene felt the thing she¡¯d been dreading; the beginning of a desire to cooperate. Her fury and will to fight running out of steam. She wanted to stop being afraid, and there was a voice in the back of her mind telling her that if she was quiet and cooperative she would be safe, they wouldn¡¯t hurt her.

    Very deliberately, she raised one hand and tore at the bite mark and dagger prick at her wrist. Scabs came away under her fingernails, and she felt the burn and sting give way to a throb as it began to bleed again. They¡¯d already hurt her, she reminded herself. She ignored the voice telling her she¡¯d been hurt worse at the gym by her own stupidity, or in the kitchen by her own clumsiness.

    Keep your head down, listen, learn, and watch, she heard her mother¡¯s voice in her head. If you¡¯re ever taken, don¡¯t provoke them. It¡¯s the only way you¡¯ll stay alive long enough for me to come get you.

    Well, she¡¯d already provoked them, but she could keep watching and listening. When she wasn¡¯t in the rat infested cellar, at least. To keep from thinking of the cellar as much as to follow her mother¡¯s advice, Karlene made herself look up as Sid and Milly marched her across the courtyard and back inside. Her gaze landed on the unnamed dark haired captive that had regained the winged man¡¯s attention.

    Oddly, he wasn¡¯t looking at his captor, who was looming over him with wings half-spread in a clear gesture of intimidation.

    He was looking at her.

 Chapter Five - From Useless to Useful

    <h1>-Chapter Five-</h1>

    This time when they put her back in the cellar, it was with a lit candle and a box of more, but no matches or flint or whatever they used. If she let the first go out, she¡¯d have no way of lighting the next, so she very carefully dribbled some of the wax on one of the top steps and then worked the stub of a candle into it so it was secure. True to Milly¡¯s word, she was given nothing to eat. She thought about rummaging through the crates and sacks and barrels she could now see by candlelight, but she recalled Milly¡¯s threats about inventorying and thought maybe it was too soon to provoke them again. She¡¯d had a big, late lunch the day before, and she¡¯d never been gifted with the sort of metabolism that exempted her from needing a regular work-out regime. She could last until lunch.

    Except lunch never came, and Karlene was left alone with the gnawing emptiness in her middle, a growing thirst, the flickering candlelight, and her own imagination. She¡¯d never been overly bothered by vermin before, no more than anyone else, but she thought after this she might never be able to watch the one catacomb scene from Indiana Jones ever again.

    At some point she managed to fall asleep, thankfully not long enough for the one lit candle to go out, though it was close. She lit the next one, noted she only had two more, and glanced down into the dim cellar nervously. She didn¡¯t see any of them, but that was almost worse. No, it was worse. Every little noise transformed itself in her ears into the skittering of little feet and chattering of sharp teeth.

    She focused on the sounds from the kitchen, instead. There had been muffled sounds of activity off an on since she¡¯d been returned to her prison, but nothing compared to now. It almost sounded like the people on the other side had just woken up- as if they¡¯d slept in the kitchen.

    She heard voices, Milly¡¯s among them, all animated and getting louder. Heavy, impatient footsteps gave Karlene warning enough before the cellar door was yanked open to move away.

    ¡°Get up,¡± the woman growled, then reached down and grabbed for her when Karlene wasn¡¯t quick enough.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t done napping,¡± Karlene snarled without thinking. Her cheek suddenly stung and burned and her head snapped to the side. Karlene, wide eyed, looked back to the woman as Milly raised her hand again, her posture full of threat. Karlene watched Milly¡¯s fingers contorted into the beginnings of a strange sigil.

    Karlene stiffened. They¡¯d implied the bands around her wrists could do more than that magnetic trick, but she still didn¡¯t want to know what. If Karlene was the sort of person she wanted to be, she would be brave enough to find out, or to at least deliver some sort of clever threat like, ¡®some day I won¡¯t be wearing these,¡¯ only less cliche. But it was just her, so she broke the staring contest and looked away first, glad the redness of her cheek would hide her flushed face. Milly gave a grunt of approval and dropped her hand, the sigil unfinished.

    Milly walked away, and Karlene followed through the buzz of activity that had brought the kitchen to life. The staff still look dim-faced, but at least now they were moving. Karlene staunchly ignored the scents of baking bread and cooking meat.

    Milly guided her through the what had to be the central hall. Karlene remembered, faintly, enough of her history lessons and what little ancient architecture they¡¯d covered to know that much. The wall-to-wall hearth on the far end of the room fit with what she remembered. There were tapestries depicting hunts hung beneath crossed swords and spears. And, of course, even a goddamn suit of armor.

    Nice, she thought to herself. Next on the list of explanations, time travel.

    Too late, she noticed where, exactly, in the room Milly was taking her. She stopped dead, eyes going wide. It was another one of those demonic looking circles, and there was Sid and Nix and Rowe. And the knife.

    ¡°Oh hell no-¡± she began, but then Milly raised one hand, fingers twisting, and the bracelets did one of those things she hadn¡¯t wanted to know about. They slammed together, jarring her wrists, and pain arched up her arms and over her shoulders, meeting at the base of her skull to stab into her spine like a white-hot needle. She fell, not even able to draw a breath to scream, to land hard on her knees on the stone floor. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    When it was gone, the sudden lack of pain was as if she¡¯d been shot full of euphoria. Air had never tasted so sweet, and her skin had never been so sensitive. She lay where she¡¯d collapsed, gasping.

    ¡°There won¡¯t be any need for a second demonstration, I think.¡± The speaker was mister big-wings. He must have entered after her, while she¡¯d been busy not-screaming, since there was no way she would have missed spotting him otherwise. The toes of his soft grey boots came into her line of sight.

    ¡°I would like to advise against taking her out again so soon, sire,¡± said Milly, and it was the most subdued Karlene had heard her sound.

    ¡°I have been made aware of your protestations, Milly.¡± He stepped away from Karlene, who made herself glance up, made herself ignore, just a little, the voice in her head demanding she do anything and everything to make sure she never felt that again.

    The winged man was looking down at her, almost...expectant. Karlene pulled herself to her feet with less pain than she would have expected. The only things that twinged her the hurts she¡¯d already had.

    ¡°What are you?¡± She breathed. ¡°What in God¡¯s name is going on?¡±

    Milly hissed at her and grabbed at her arms to push her towards the circle ashen runes again. Something made Karlene dig in her heels. It wasn¡¯t sanity. Every inch of her tingled with the memory of agony, but still she pulled back.

    ¡°Answer me!¡± In the mostly empty stone hall, her voice echoed as if she¡¯d shouted. ¡°What is going on?¡±

    Big-wings loomed closer, and she felt the whole room hold its breath.

    ¡°Cooperate,¡± he said. ¡°And you will know all you need to.¡± He gestured to the circle. Sid made an encouraging gesture, grinning at Karlene while tossing nervous glances at big-wings.

    It dawned on her, in a vague sort of way, that they needed her. It was why she was alive and, for the most part, unhurt. She had value. Somehow- hadn¡¯t they all thanked her after they¡¯d kidnapped her?

    Her blood. Her blood on that ring of markings. For some reason, they needed her blood specifically. They needed her specifically.

    The thought made her reckless, and no amount of her mother¡¯s voice clamoring in her head was able to dampen the impending stupidity. She took a step towards big-wings, getting deliberately inside the invisible ring all people had that determined what that person¡¯s ¡®personal space¡¯ was. She craned her neck up at him, glaring.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    The question had an instant effect. Sid stifled a low moan, Milly gave an outraged gasp, while Rowe and Nix both took a step back.

    She remembered the particular importance with which this very beast had discussed names with the tied-up captive from yesterday. Names had power to these people. Every person in the room held their breath, and for a moment she was certain she was about to die, that she¡¯d overestimated her worth.

    ¡°You may call me what everyone else does,¡± he said. ¡°Diom.¡±

    Then he turned to the others and gave a few instructions in a mild tone that Karlene hardly heard, her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears.

    No one breathed again until he left.

    In a daze, she was led to the circle again. And again, she was pricked at her wrist, and made to reach out and drip red drops over all four quadrants of the circle. This time when the pillar of ash and smoke and glowing embers rose into the air she watched, her eyes aching from how hard she was peering into the swirls of shadow and trying to see something to explain it.

    But there were no mirrors, no wires, and the smoke had no origin but her own sizzling blood.

    Nix took her by her arm, and she was dragged into the smoke. There was a moment¡¯s disorientation, and then a crushing weight settled over her as the smoke cleared. She gasped for air, finding it hard to force her lungs to do their job. Harder still was remaining upright; she wanted nothing more than to sink to her knees, find something to brace herself on. Beside her, she heard NIx grunt.

    She thought this was what it would feel like to drown miles beneath an ocean¡¯s surface, where the pressure would kill you before the lack of air did.

    ¡°Hurry, you idiots!¡± Nix said, sounding strained. She looked to the group and saw they were all bent over as if grown old, or as if they carried invisible boulders.

    Then she saw the sky.

    With its three suns.

    Rowe and Sid were down in the dirt with large sticks wrapped in cloth, their exposed ends dark. They used them to draw hastily on the ground, and where they went marks of dark charcoal were left behind. Every moment they drew was another moment Karlene wasn¡¯t sure she could keep on her feet. Nix was helping support her, in a twisted sort of kindness, but he looked just as strained as the rest of them.

    When Rowe and Sid closed the circle there was a flash of light barely visible in the glare of the triple suns -and why wasn¡¯t she roasting in addition to suffocating?- and Nix dragged her forward, knife ready to reopen the wound that had scabbed. This time, she didn¡¯t have to be dragged or pushed into the pillar. Experience told her the tornado of soot would take her elsewhere, and right now that was the only place she wanted to be.

    She landed on her knees, gasping for the air that had moments ago been so desperately difficult to draw in. She heard the others doing the same nearby. When the disorientation passed and she stood she had a moment of invertigo as she realized she felt light as air. As if she could float away.

    Gravity, she thought. Wherever she¡¯d just been, it had been somewhere with heavier gravity. Given humanity¡¯s oh so very long way to go before they reached gravity-manipulation technology¡­ And with the memory of the three suns still burning in her mind¡¯s eye...

    She looked, wide eyed, at Sid, who was looking back at her with something close to smugness, as if he realized she¡¯d just begun to figure it out.

    All she could get out was, ¡°Well. Shit.¡±

    She¡¯d just been on another planet.

 Chapter Six - From Sane to Insane

    <h1>-Chapter Six-</h1>

    She wasn¡¯t drugged. It had been too long since she¡¯d ingested anything in any way, unless the blade had been poisoned again, but that seemed unlikely.

    She didn¡¯t think she was insane, and barring the idiom that said insane people never do, that was all she had to go on.

    So.

    The only remaining explanation, according to Holmes, was that no matter how improbable it was, this was real. Whatever ¡®this¡¯ was.

    All at once, absolutely everything Karlene had thought she¡¯d known about her situation was obliterated.

    When it became clear she wasn¡¯t going to panic, or bolt, or anything else inconvenient her kidnappers began moving, and she followed automatically. They had arrived somewhere very green and very wet, as if it had just rained. A lot. Karlene¡¯s sneakers sank into the muddy grass a good inch, and walking was a thigh exercise to rival her gym¡¯s stairmaster.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± She asked what felt like hours later. As if she hadn¡¯t spent the entirety of their trek in a tangibly heavy and contemplative silence, Sid answered.

    ¡°Pyroxis,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not the closest city to the fort, but it¡¯s the only one we haven¡¯t been to in a long enough time to risk a visit.¡±

    ¡°I see. And why are you taking me to a city that¡¯s risky to visit?¡±

    ¡°More like you took us,¡± Rowe interjected. ¡°If you want to be accurate.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I love accuracy.¡± Her deadpan was rewarded with a laugh from Sid, as genuine as she could hope from someone who¡¯s hand she¡¯d tried to bite off the day before.

    ¡°We need supplies we can¡¯t get elsewhere,¡± said Nix. ¡°And you need to see... Well, you need to see.¡± He gave a shrug in lieu of actually describing what she needed to see.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen enough, thank you.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t much matter what you think.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡±

    They walked in silence a bit longer before the heavy quiet of post-realization in her head began to crack, and no matter what she tried to think of to distract herself, the questions managed to make their way to freedom.

    ¡°Oh for the love of- What is he?¡± She asked, a bit too loudly.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    Karlene stared at the back of Nix¡¯s head. He couldn¡¯t be serious. Except she was starting to think he was the only serious one among them. Sid had turned away from her to hide a grin, while Rowe looked about to dance with anticipatory glee. Man his size, she¡¯d almost pay to see the show.

    ¡°Diom. Is he¡­¡± She couldn¡¯t believe she was about to ask this. ¡°Is he an angel? Or¡­a demon?¡±

    All three of her kidnappers glanced at her, all with their own expressions of confusion.

    ¡°What are those?¡± Rowe asked.

    She blinked at him. Seriously?

    ¡°What are...what? Angels? Or demons?¡± She really couldn¡¯t believe this conversation was happening.

    ¡°Both. Never heard of em.¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    She stumbled, then stopped dead. Her captors stopped and stared at her, all looking confused. Or amused. Or both. She was finding it hard to tell for sure through her haze of anger and fear. Either they really didn¡¯t know, or they were having fun with her.

    ¡°Forget it,¡± she grumbled, and they exchanged glances before turning forward again, with her trailing along roughly in the middle of them. She was, she realized, still a captive for all their smiles and her limbs being unbound.

    She glanced at the silver cuffs and winced. Not unbound entirely, though. She began to wonder if there was a limit to how far away their little finger gestures would get a reaction from the cuffs. She shivered, remembering the pain, and Diom¡¯s looming presence, and decided she was out of bravery for the day.

    A few hours later she got her first glimpse of their destination. It was a city, all right, with buildings and traffic and ungodly smells. But that was where Pyroxis started and ended its list of resemblances to any city Karlene had ever seen before.

    For example, some of the buildings were floating.

    As were all of the vehicles.

    And some of the people.

    ¡°Holy¡­¡± Karlene stared, slack jawed, at a guardhouse that hovered over the main city entranceway, a collapsible set of stairs the only thing connecting it to the ground. Men in the obvious equivalent of police uniforms with batons at their belts tramped up and down to the floating structure, not looking at all concerned that their workplace for the afternoon was held up by nothing but air and...more air.

    Sid had taken her arm, she noticed, though whether it was to keep her near or to keep her from getting knocked over by a stray breeze, she couldn¡¯t say.

    The entrance to the city was narrow enough that the otherwise small number of people trying to get in seemed a horde. They walked right under the floating guardhouse, and she couldn¡¯t help it; she reached her arms out, wiggling her fingers like a lunatic, trying to feel some sort of super sheer glass, or the press of anti-grav technology. Though what that would feel like, she had no idea, since it didn¡¯t exist. Except, obviously, it did.

    She felt nothing, in any case; just air.

    Then she looked to the flying people. Not floating, as others were on what she now could see were small platforms no bigger than placemats, but flying. Some had great feathered wings like Diom, and others swooped and soared with seemingly nothing to explain how, and others flittered on what could only be described as giant fairy wings, complete with trails of glitter following along in their wingtips¡¯ wake.

    ¡°You¡¯re drawing attention,¡± Nix said quietly, calmly, from right next to her. She jumped. Somehow, she¡¯d forgotten she wasn¡¯t alone. ¡°Close your mouth and keep your head down.¡±

    ¡°Remember Milly¡¯s kitchen drudges?¡± Sid prompted from her other side. Numbly, she nodded, and realized they wanted her to imitate those drudges.

    The beginnings of indignation rose swift in her -why in the world would she help them keep her captive?- and died just as abruptly when Nix seized the back of her neck in a hand that was, if not as big as Rowe¡¯s, just as strong.

    ¡°See there?¡± He hissed, guiding her head to aim her face -and thus her eyes- at a commotion taking place across the street.

    A boy, malnourished and wearing nothing but an undyed tunic tied with a red rope, was on his knees in front of one of the uniformed guards. He was sobbing, one hand reached up to grasp at the hem of the guard¡¯s coat. Behind the boy, another man in bright clothing was apologizing profusely to the guard.

    ¡°-no idea what¡¯s gotten into it, my apologies sir, I¡¯ll see it is beaten twice tonight-¡±

    ¡°How about you skip a beating and add a meal, instead?¡± The guard said, sounding annoyed. ¡°Starving your property to the point they are driven to beg from passerbys? You should be embarrassed, sir.¡±

    Then the guard walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, inside one of the floating guardhouses, the colorfully dressed man seized the red-belted child by his hair and dragged him away. Karlene didn¡¯t need a crystal ball to know that pain, not food, awaited the boy, no matter what the guard had advised.

    ¡°I get it,¡± Karlene whispered. Sick poison curdled in her stomach, making her feel dirty from the inside out. No one would help her. Enough pedestrians had passed the altercation within earshot, and done nothing, to drive that point home.

    Nix released the back of her neck, and Karlene kept her head down.

    She tried and succeeded in keeping her posture meek and her head lowered for all of one block of walking, then curiosity overrode her fear and her gaze was up and darting around again, trying to absorb it all.

    On the heels of her abating disgust and disbelief came a reluctant swelling of awe. Whatever evils it may hide, the city of Pyroxis was one of the most beautiful places she¡¯d ever seen. There were so many colors. There wasn¡¯t a single drab grey, white, or tan building to be seen, all of them painted in jewel tones of blue and green and red. Windows were all rounded, most of them stained glass veined with gold.

    The people matched the city, wearing suits and gowns of bright hues accented with capelets and hats and canes in glittering metallics. More than one short cape, which was either a wardrobe staple or the current fashion, was sewn with patterns of feathers in gold or silver thread. Even the hair was vibrant, usually more than two colors to be found per scalp, frequently more than five.

    Rowe eventually came to walk beside her, and announced his presence by planting one big hand at the back of her neck and using his sausage fingers to tilt her head down. His grip was no more firm than necessary, but she still stiffened. She couldn¡¯t recall the last time someone other than her mother had manhandled her so much before this whole debacle.

    The cool tingle of the cuffs stopped her a half a heartbeat before she would have shaken Rowe off, and she glowered at Sid from beneath her lashes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget the boy at the gate,¡± Rowe said quietly. ¡°Look at others wearing cuffs and red belts.¡±

    Through her haze of anger, she did so. And blinked. She hadn¡¯t noticed them, before, not when they were all beside or between or behind one of the glittering jewel-toned people. They wore simple tunics of colorless fabric, belted with cords of woven crimson. They all, in addition wrist cuffs that were twin to the ones she wore, had a single charm dangling from their left ears, with hair shorn short enough to not need restraining. Karlene touched her own locks, pale blonde waves that ended at her chin. If she¡¯d had longer hair, would her captors have cut it?

    All the people she saw with a red belt and silver ear charm, every single one, walked with their shoulders slumped, heads down, and hands clasped in front of them.

    Now that she was looking closer at the crowds around them, she saw other people dressed as Sid and Nix and Row, in less vibrant colors. The silks and velvets and thick embroidery was missing from these people, who were dressed with more mundane labor in mind. It was how her group had not been remarked upon; there were others like them, just thoroughly overshadowed.

    There was no one else like her, however, in jeans and shirt with her cuffed arms swinging, uptilted freckled face gaping in wonder, no jewel-toned clothes but also no red belt, no ear charm.

    She stopped fighting Rowe¡¯s hand, and tilted her head back down.

 Chapter Seven - From There to Here

    <h1>-Chapter Seven-</h1>

    The further they walked, the more Karlene sank into herself, and it wasn¡¯t entirely pretend. The glittering beauty all around her was becoming false and mocking, the harder she looked. The myriad of emotions she¡¯d been through began to coalesce in the pit of her stomach as something hard and sharp. The knot of hunger it resided next to didn¡¯t help. She felt the rumble a moment before it became audible, her innards twisting in on themselves in search of nutrients that weren¡¯t there.

    ¡°We¡¯ll eat after,¡± Rowe promised, and damned if he didn¡¯t sound like he was trying not to laugh. She felt anything but amused, but nodded anyway, as if acknowledging his words might help him keep them. She was too hungry at this point to do anything that might prevent them from feeding her.

    They stopped in front of a huge blue building, its domed roof capped in brightly mosaiced panels that glinted. The steps in front of it were full of people, most of them carrying packages or cases or boxes. Inside, the organized chaos reminded her of Central Station in New York.

    Her comparison was a better one than she¡¯d thought, she realized, when she figured out what the place was for. On the far end of the cavernous room, wide sets of ornate steps led up to a platform half as big as the room below. As far as she could tell, it utilized the same anti-gravity trick the buildings and people outside had, since it had no visible supports.

    On top of the platform, she saw when they ascended the steps, were dozens and dozens of smaller circular raised platforms. They were the precise size needed to house more of those strange runic circles. Each platform had a line of people corralled by brass and velvet stanchion. Admittance to each circle was controlled by universally bored-looking staff members in red uniforms and pill caps, complete with gold braided details at the shoulders and sleeve cuffs.

    Rowe¡¯s hand on her neck guided her to the far end of the second level, where a booth was surrounded by people peering intently at raised boards bearing what could only be travel schedules. It was all both very bizarre, and yet very familiar. If she replaced the circle platforms with subway train doors, she could almost pretend she was at a station.

    ¡°Pardon us,¡± said Nix to the harried looking yellow-and-blue haired woman standing behind the booth. ¡°We found this one standing outside. Has anyone filed a missing report for one?¡± He jerked his head towards Karlene, who knew a story when she heard one being spun. The woman leaned over the booth and looked Karlene up and down.

    ¡°Not one with this one¡¯s description,¡± she replied. ¡°The Astix family is missing one of theirs, but it¡¯s male.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? Maybe the report would have been filed yesterday? She could have been standing around for awhile before anyone noticed her.¡± Nix had put an audible note of hopefulness in his voice.

    ¡°We¡¯re just hoping to return her,¡± Sid piped up. He winked. ¡°Purely out of the goodness of our hearts, of course. We¡¯d be very grateful if you could help us.¡±

    The booth woman snorted, then glanced around. Surrounded by people close enough to sneeze on, and yet they were nearly alone for all the attention they were being paid. Just another bunch of travelers with their own issues.

    The woman reached beneath the counter, and brought back up rectangle of thin brass, like an empty picture frame. She pinched something at its corner, and it¡¯s hollow middle filled with light that formed an image. Karlene blinked at it, her head rising a fraction before she caught herself. Now there was something she -sort of- recognized. Steve Jobs, eat your heart out, she thought.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Quickly,¡± the woman said, her voice tense but her posture and expression the same stressed-bored as before. ¡°The Izihal family reported one missing a week ago, and it hasn¡¯t been found.¡± She glanced back to Karlene, then down at the image and script glowing on the ¡®screen.¡¯ ¡°Dye and cut her hair, and she could pass.¡± She pinched the corner again and the frame went dark. ¡°I better see you back here tomorrow with my cut, or I¡¯ll suddenly remember that after a long shift I forgot to mention the suspicious characters I saw.¡± Her stare shifted to Karlene. ¡°With a clearly very expensive, very stolen-¡±

    ¡°How about I pay you now and we consider the matter settled?¡± Nix leaned forward. To anyone watching but not listening, it would look as if he were begging her; surely she could help this poor lost traveler? He¡¯d slid a hand across the desk, imploringly. When he pulled it back, he left something black and glittering in its wake. The woman planted her hands firmly on the counter, leaning forward in a posture of the clearly done and finished. One of her hands landed squarely on the thing Nix had left, without looking at it.

    ¡°This is all I can give you,¡± she said, loudly, with exaggerated impatience. She¡¯d pulled something else from beneath the counter as she¡¯d stood, a brochure of some kind. It bulged oddly, as if something were hidden between the pages. ¡°Now, if I see you here again, I will call security,¡± she threatened, loudly.

    Nix grabbed for the brochure and then pushed away from the counter, scowling. ¡°Fine!¡± He shouted. ¡°Someday, I¡¯ll come back here in silk and with my own dropling and then we¡¯ll see who¡¯s so sorry they can¡¯t help me!¡±

    Rowe pulled her away to follow Nix and Sid, the latter two whispering too low for Karlene to hear.

    She let Rowe guide her while she tried to puzzle out what she¡¯d just seen. Except for the obvious, that it had been illegal, or at least something that would have gotten the yellow-and-blue haired woman in supreme trouble, she had absolutely no idea what had just transpired. She¡¯d been referred to; as an ¡®it.¡¯ A female ¡®it.¡¯ Aside from being insulting, it didn¡¯t make sense. She couldn¡¯t be a ¡®she¡¯ and an ¡®it¡¯ at the same time.

    ¡°Almost done,¡± Rowe promised, speaking softly for her ears alone.

    Their group stopped at the end of one of the lines of people waiting for their turns at one of the platforms. Despite herself, Karlene watched with no small amount of curiosity as, at the head of the line, a man in a burgundy suit with a gold cane handed over a gilded slip of paper. The attendant fed the paper into a slot at his podium, and waved the man through.

    The man tipped his cobalt blue top hat to the attendant, and climbed up the few steps to the platform. At the platform¡¯s edge, a contraption of brass gears and glass containers spun to life. A reticulated arm of interlocking brass and copper plates unfurled from the machine and reached out.

    Instead of charcoal, the eerie circular pattern was etched directly into the metal of the platform. The reticulated arm¡¯s tip reached into a compartment within the machine¡¯s base, and withdrew a small glass ampule that glinted like a ruby.

    Karlene watched as the arm carried the ampule to the platform, watched as the three prongs at its end rushed the tip of the ampule and began to let red droplets fall from it to land on the sigils around the burgundy-suited man¡¯s feet.

    When the last drops fell, the now familiar column of smoke and ash and embers flared up around the man, who had vanished by the time the air cleared. For the first time, Karlene noticed that this particular type of smoke didn¡¯t have a scent.

    A few long, dazed moments later, and it was their turn at the platform, and Karlene stiffened.

    ¡°Token or ticket?¡± asked the attendant. His hair was a shocking blend of orange and purple that did not belong with the red uniform, in any situation, ever.

    ¡°Ticket,¡± Nix said, and pulled three slips of gold paper from his pocket. The attendant glanced at her, looking surprised, but took the tickets.

    ¡°Not ours to use,¡± Sid explained.

    ¡°None of my business, sirs, whether you pay to use the Station¡¯s Drops or just pay to use our platforms.¡± the attendant responded. He fed the tickets into the slot on his podium, then reached into his pocket and removed a crystal dongle. He inserted it into a contraption of glass and little gears that sat at the edge of his podium, something Karlene hadn¡¯t been able to see until now. Clearly, it had something to do with the machine at the edge of the platform, with its articulated arm.

    ¡°Up we go,¡± said Rowe, and he could have been speaking to anyone but she knew he was speaking to her. Propelled by his hand, she stepped up onto the platform. A few moments later the drops of blood -someone else¡¯s blood- had fallen, and the odorless pillar of smoke and embers was rising around her feet.

 Chapter Eight - From Blind to Sight

    <h1>-Chapter Eight-</h1>

    There was no flattening heaviness waiting on the other side, and only one sun. Demonstrating the oddity of her circumstances, Karlene realized she was actually surprised to find she was still in the same world. The same city, even, based on the her surroundings. A man in a green waistcoat -waistcoat!- and purple jacket strode past her, a pair of cobalt blue-lensed glasses perched on his nose. His slicked pink-and-blue-and-purple hair looked like something she remembered sprouting from the rear end of one of her childhood little pony toys. She stared after him before a nudge from Rowe, who¡¯d removed his hand, reminded her to keep her head down, literally.

    Their group stepped down off of the platform they¡¯d been transported to, just in time for another group arriving behind them in their own ashen vortex.

    Outside the station, Karlene realized that if it was the same city, it was a very different part of the same city. The station behind her lacked the ornate mosaic of tiles on its domed roof, and the steps out front were not as clean swept as the first stations¡¯ had been. The people around them, too, were less shiny and colorful, more like Sid and Nix and Rowe in clothing and demeanor.

    ¡°Not much longer,¡± he promised again. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and he looked back with a smile. Karlene looked at him with confusion. The longer she was with these men, the more confused she became.

    She felt the beginnings of a new tightness in her chest, and some distant part of her mind realized she might be feeling the onset of a genuine panic attack. She could hardly be blamed; she¡¯d just been transported at least cross-city, if not cross-continent, by something powered with blood. Blood like hers, if she had been putting the clues together. Obviously there was something about her, about her blood, that was required to make those runic circles do their relocation mojo. And apparently she wasn¡¯t the only source, despite what she¡¯d thought earlier that day in the great hall.

    Karlene felt her hands trembling, and told herself it was just hunger. It had officially been at least twenty four hours since she¡¯d eaten.

    True to his word, at least, Rowe made them all stop at a street vendor selling split rolls of fluffy white bread stuffed with chopped sausages and what had to be onions, even if they were an odd purple-blue color. At least street food was street food, apparently no matter what world you walked on. The condiments were even properly red and yellow, though they tasted very little like the ketchup and mustard she suddenly craved.

    Still, it was food, and hot, and actually very good. She ate as they walked, keeping her head down as much to preserve the pretense of docility as to hide how completely gross she was being about wolfing the wanna-be-hot-dog.

    It was partially due to her dedication of keeping her head down that she saw it. The other part was because, while keeping her face hidden, she¡¯d noticed the unnatural smoothness of the pavement and had found herself wondering what they used to pave their streets...

    Then her foot landed right on a face she recognized.

    She paused, blinking down at the poster stuck to the ground. It was odd not only because it was the only piece of trash she could see, but also because the face staring up at her was a perfect match to the dark-eyed youth she¡¯d seen the day before. This version was smiling, well fed, and had teeth too damn straight and white for his own good, but it was definitely him. And goddamn if it didn¡¯t have the look of a ¡®wanted¡¯ poster, even if she couldn¡¯t read the strange writing.

    ¡°Hey!¡± She said, looking up sharply. For a wonder, her companions had kept going for a few steps. She pointed down at the poster. ¡°Isn¡¯t that-?¡±

    Nix was in front of her in an instant, one hand shooting out to tangle in her hair and yank her forward, shoving her head down so hard her neck spasmed.

    ¡°Forget you saw that, if you value your tongue.¡± Nix released her as soon as he¡¯d brought her back among them, Sid in front, Nix at her side and Rowe looming tangibly behind. By silent understanding, she kept her head down on her own. She¡¯d seen Nix¡¯s face the moment before Sid had reached her, and she was remembering now that these were not her buddies out for an alien planet stroll.

    The knot of panic from earlier returned, this time paired with something hot and toxic; anger at herself. A few not-hostile smiles and a hot dog had apparently been enough to make her forget everything.

    As they made their way back to the city¡¯s main gates, she managed to sneak upward glances through her lashes and her hair, and now that she was looking for it, she saw the same poster on building walls and a few bulletin boards posted here and there. It was the man she¡¯d seen bound to his horse the day before. She was sure of it.

    When they were out of sight of the city guardhouse, Sid stepped away from her, but not before raising his hand and pinching his fingers together. Karlene¡¯s wrists snapped together of their own accord. If his face looked regretful, she refused to see it. She¡¯d forgotten, for a few moments, but then been reminded that she was here unwillingly. No matter what sort of fantastical place this was, she didn¡¯t belong here and she intended to get home as soon as possible, any way she could, cuffs-oh-pain or no-cuffs-oh-pain.

    Resolve renewed, Karlene didn¡¯t fight them when they drew a circle and pulled her towards it. She hardly felt the knife when it reopened the sore knick on her wrist.

    ¡°Hold your breath,¡± Sid told her, a moment before she was dragged along into the smoke. She understood his instruction almost immediately, and was grateful her resentment hadn¡¯t prevented her from listening. Water closed in all around her, not cold but comfortably cool after their sweaty hike through the wet greenery outside the Pyroxis. She peered through the dim water to see Sid and Row using those sticks again to etch another circle into the sandy bottom. A few moments later she was swimming into another grey cyclone.

    ¡°Much better,¡± Nix said to Sid when they emerged on the other side into clean, breathable air. ¡°I half expected to end up in the bay again.¡±

    Sid snorted. ¡°It helps when I have the right tools,¡± he said. ¡°And know where I am.¡±

    They stood, now, in the same central hall they¡¯d departed from earlier. It was empty aside from themselves and Milly, who came -stomped- towards them, flanked by a pair of drudges who carried towels and cups. Karlene watched them apprehensively, remembering the last time these people had given her a blanket and a cup. If they came at her, she¡¯d throw the cup at Milly. Neither of the drudges offered anything to Karlene, however, and after a moment of shivering and dripping she changed her mind and wished for a towel, at least.

    ¡°Did she behave? What did she do?¡± Milly demanded, walking up to Karlene and seizing her face. Karlene jerked free, scowling. Milly reached for her again, her expression promising unpleasant things.

    ¡°Leave her be, Milly,¡± Nix grunted. ¡°She did fine.¡±

    Karlene looked at him. Fine? She¡¯d been as docile as the lamb Milly to call her.

    Milly looked disappointed, then shot a glower at Karlene¡¯s wrists. At the cuffs. One of her hands twitched, as if she¡¯d been wishing badly for a reason to form one of those pain-inducing signs again.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    What was wrong with this woman? With all of them? What was wrong with her, that she was mildly grateful to Nix for saying something?

    ¡°We¡¯ll bring her to the kitchens in a minute, Milly,¡± Nix told the woman. Milly looked affronted, and reached as if to lay physical claim on Karlene. Karlene stepped back, and Milly¡¯s expression shifted to something apocalyptic.

    ¡°Milly.¡± Nix used a tone that reminded Karlene of Diom, the winged freak. Milly abruptly spun on a heel and marched out of the hall.

    Nix came to stand in front of Karlene, and handed her his damp towel, gesturing to her hair.

    ¡°Now that you¡¯ve seen what you¡¯ve seen, do you understand?¡± Nix asked.

    ¡°I told you, Nix, the world we were stuck in doesn¡¯t have-¡±

    ¡°I was there, too, Sid,¡± Nix said coldly. ¡°I know what her world did and didn¡¯t have.¡± He didn¡¯t take his gaze from Karlene. ¡°Well? Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Bits and pieces,¡± Karlene said truthfully. ¡°Somehow you...you use¡­¡± God, was she really going to say this out loud, like it was real? ¡°You use...blood to power some sort of magic cross world travel.¡± She looked back and forth between Nix and the others.

    ¡°What else.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m thinking that not just any blood works. You...somehow got stuck in my, uh, my world. That¡¯s what you were talking about, when you kidnapped me.¡± She pinned her stare on Sid. ¡°That¡¯s why you wanted to work for me. You needed information.¡±

    Sheepishly, Sid nodded.

    ¡°And...here, in your world, people like me, people whose blood does...what it does¡­ You keep them cuffed? Owned?¡± She held out her own silver-ringed wrists as examples.

    ¡°Close enough,¡± Nix said. ¡°See?¡± He said to the other two. ¡°Told you she¡¯d learn.¡±

    Rowe came up beside her to take her arm, and she got the abrupt impression that this was it. The explanation, or as much of one as she was going to get.

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think so,¡± Karlene said, and dug her heels into the flagstones as Rowe tried to haul her forward. ¡°I have some questions, you assholes.¡±

    ¡°No doubt,¡± Nix replied over his shoulder as he left. ¡°But it¡¯s Milly¡¯s job to train new Droplings, not ours.¡±

    New Droplings?

    ¡°Then what the hell was this little questionnaire about?¡±

    ¡°Just wanted to make sure you understood your new place. If we have to watch you like we just did every time we went out, things would get unpleasant.¡±

    Dumbfounded, Karlene found her vocabulary abruptly zeroed out as Rowe patted her on the shoulder, then led her to the kitchen.

    Of course, Milly was waiting.

    Karlene debated on ignoring the woman¡¯s tapping foot and heading straight for her cellar. She opted to come to a halt just out of Milly¡¯s reach, glaring murderously and expecting pain.

    Milly just grunted and gestured to a long trestle table that ran the length of the wall to their left. Most of it was occupied with various food prep stations, but the end of it was left open, assumedly as a place for people to actually eat. There was a large pot of something steaming next to a platter of brown, burnt loaf ends. The wanna-be-hot-dog suddenly seemed forever ago. The hike out of the city and back to their rune-circle site had been long and hot.

    Karlene went and sat at the table. She eyed Milly suspiciously, but the woman turned to bark an order for another drudge to keep an eye on her, then left.

    Seeing no plates or bowls or even a spoon, Karlene reached for a loaf end and hollowed it out with effort; it was like trying to scrape sandpaper. She used the rock-hard crust to scoop up some of what was in the pot, using it like a cross between a shallow cup and an overgrown spoon to bring it to her mouth. She ate without pausing to look at it- that way led to squeamishness, and she was still too hungry to let her pickiness deprive her of a meal. It wasn¡¯t until the third scooping of some sort of congealing gruel and bland vegetables that the crust softened enough to be eaten. The stuff actually wasn¡¯t that bad, if she ignored the burnt bits.

    Someone plopped down next to her, startling her badly enough she dropped her crust into the pot, with no fondue fork to be seen. She reached for another loaf end at the same time she looked at her new dining guest. She dropped her crust again.

    ¡°Here, let me help, you seem to be struggling,¡± said the newcomer with a grin, reaching past her to grab two loaf ends. Agile fingers made quick work of hollowing them, letting the dry crumbs pile up on the table. By the time Karlene had found her tongue again, he¡¯d filled one hollowed loaf end with more porridge and handed it to her.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said automatically. Now that she was up close to him, she recognized the bound man from the day before, and realized his hair wasn¡¯t the monotoned dark she¡¯d thought. The topmost layers were dyed a deep indigo blue, while the longer bottom layers were black. The only other people she¡¯d seen with hair of any color other than the natural tones had been the rainbow people in Pyroxis.

    If her staring bothered him, he didn¡¯t show it. He just finished hollowing out his own crust and tucked into the pot without restraint. She wondered if he¡¯d been fed since his arrival. Even if he had, it obviously hadn¡¯t been enough. Looking at him, she was surprised she¡¯d recognized the man in the poster as being him.

    And it was him, she thought, even now that she was comparing this thin, unshaven, unwashed, uncombed individual to the smiling white-toothed man in her memory of the poster. She¡¯d always been good with faces, a talent honed by watching her mother study how best to take and give descriptions of uncaught criminals.

    Slowly, an idea began to form. Now that she thought about it, it hadn¡¯t looked like a ¡®wanted¡¯ poster, but a ¡®missing¡¯ poster. She had seen no other such postings on the buildings or poles, so someone important enough to have their image spread through a major city in the hopes of him being spotted would be important¡­ Probably.

    ¡°Come here often?¡± She asked. Without anything else to go on, she¡¯d defaulted to her usual way of getting to know strangers- discern their type of humor, or if they even had any sense of one.

    He paused in the midst of chewing, arm extended to scoop out more colorless mush. He blinked at her, then the corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned.

    ¡°My first time, actually,¡± he responded. ¡°The place was highly recommended. The actual food leaves something to be desired, though.¡± He brought another crust-full to his mouth.

    Karlene made the mistake of actually looking at what she was eating as she glanced at the loaf heel he¡¯d handed her. She grimaced, glad she¡¯d managed to eat so much before seeing the suspicious lumps of grey and moldy green, then handed it back to him. He ate it without hesitation.

    ¡°It does seem a little low class,¡± she said, keeping the story going. ¡°Especially for someone important enough to have so many people looking for him.¡±

    He paused again, then sighed before finishing the few bites left in his hand. He brushed his fingers off on his already soiled shirt, then turned to face her. He gave a sort of half bow while seated.

    ¡°Well played,¡± he said. ¡°A trade, then?¡±

    She hesitated. She had the sudden impression he thought she knew more than she did. Oh, hell. With an effort, she kept her reply smooth. ¡°A trade for what?¡±

    ¡°I know, for what you know. You¡¯ve been in touch with civilization more recently than I, apparently.¡±

    ¡°Only by a day.¡±

    ¡°I was caught more than a month ago,¡± he said flatly. ¡°The time required to travel would have been significant even if we had not been traveling in secrecy. I have not seen so much as a fishing village in weeks. I was kept blindfolded until we reached the gates.¡±

    Caught? Was he one of those red-belted, ear-charmed drudges, one that had escaped?

    ¡°All right, then. I can help there. As for where we are, it¡¯s a stone fort on a cliff overlooking a bay, facing the setting sun.¡±

    ¡°How many towers?¡±

    ¡°Uh, two? I think.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Alochien Keep, probably.¡±

    That meant nothing to Karlene, so she kept going. ¡°As for the who, I was brought by the three men who seem to live to lick Diom¡¯s boots. Nix, Sid, and Rowe. There¡¯s an old cow named Milly that apparently was besties with someone named ¡®Mynda¡¯ who I¡¯m supposedly somehow replacing. That covers what I know,¡± she said, thinking, which is next to nothing. ¡°What about what you?¡±

    ¡°What I know is how a rescue would most likely be executed,¡± he said. Karlene took in the set of his mouth as he formed the words, and knew not to bother asking him to elaborate.

    ¡°If we work together,¡± he continued. ¡°I can try to see you are taken out of here, put in a proper household. I might even be able to negotiate a contract to allow you to keep your Als¡¯canil.¡±

    Her heart pounding, she skipped over the things he¡¯d said that made no sense -which was most of what he¡¯d said- and gambled with what she did understand.

    ¡°A proper household? Like the Astix? Or the Izihal?¡± She hoped she¡¯d recalled the travel-station woman¡¯s pronunciation correctly.

    The man stiffened, and he narrowed thickly lashed eyes at her. Karlene felt the urge to bolt, and instead grasped the edge of her bench seat her so hard her fingernails bit into the dry wood.

    ¡°So they are involved in this?¡± He said, half to himself. His finger tapping had gotten quicker, and now he was glancing around them, as if making sure there was no one near enough to overhear.

    Karlene forced a casual shrug. Another breath passed between them, and the man let loose a quiet laugh.

    ¡°Well played, indeed. Very well. If I get you out of here, and into the best situation a dropling could hope for, you will tell me all you know about Astix and Izihal¡¯s involvement.¡± There was something in his eyes, a glint of excitement that hadn¡¯t been there before. ¡°Agreed?¡±

    Karlene licked her lips. One gamble had paid off, she thought. Why not try her hand at a second round? For the first time, she understood the lure of poker.

    ¡°There¡¯s one more thing I need,¡± she said. Since she had no intention of being ¡®placed¡¯ anywhere other than her mom¡¯s kitchen, she felt no guilt about demanding more.

    The excitement in his eyes brightened, and he nodded tightly.

    He liked games of chance, too, it seemed.

    Karlene reached out and gripped his arm, the one resting on the table, her fingers digging in.

    ¡°I need,¡± she hissed, lowly so as not to be heard. ¡°Someone to tell me what a damn dropling is!¡±

 Chapter Nine - From Life to Death

    <h1>-Chapter Nine-</h1>

    The man¡¯s jaw dropped, just a hair, and his eyes widened. For a moment she saw what she thought she wasn¡¯t supposed to; someone as in over his head as she was, who was putting on a good front that had been solid enough until it had been dealt a blow by her unexpected question.

    He closed his mouth almost as quick as it had opened, and blinked. She glared and tightened her grip on his arm.

    ¡°You¡¯re jesting,¡± he said, raising his chin and narrowing his eyes at her.

    ¡°I am not.¡±

    He leaned forward, peering at her, eyes roaming over her face, her hair. She let him scrutinize her.

    ¡°You can¡¯t not have noticed it yourself,¡± he said eventually.

    ¡°Noticed what?¡±

    ¡°The similarities,¡± he said, slowly, as if speaking to an idiot. She felt like one, so perhaps he wasn¡¯t unwarranted in using the tone. ¡°The hair, the features, your coloring. You could be fullblood. In fact, the longer I look, the more extraordinary it is¡­ It¡¯s as if you¡¯ve merely misplaced your wings.¡±

    ¡°I left them in my other jeans,¡± she said blithely.

    Before their conversation could evolve -or devolve- further, Milly returned to the kitchens, grinning madly. Her gaze fixed on Karlene, and she felt her stomach sink. Her wrists tingled, and she wondered if it was her imagination or an actual prelude to what was coming.

    Without being told, Karlene stood and went to Milly, expecting to follow her out. Instead the woman crooked a thick finger at Karlene¡¯s dinner companion.

    ¡°You too, princeling,¡± Milly said, grinning unkindly. After a barely discernible pause, Karlene heard the shift of the wooden bench as her dining companion stood.

    Princeling, huh?

    ¡°Lead on, fair lady,¡± he said. Karlene¡¯s bracelets tingled again. As much as she applauded his needling of their jailor, she didn¡¯t notice him wearing the cuffs-oh-pain, so she did her best to convey her wish for his silence with a glower.

    She and the ¡®princeling¡¯ fell into step side by side as they followed Milly from the kitchen and through as convoluted a route through the keep as any tactician could wish for. Even though she knew it was still daylight outside, albeit late afternoon daylight, the interior of the fort was as dark as if it were night. Their light came from a half dozen spaced out torches, the flames of each framed in large plumes of soot that stained the stone walls from countless torches past. There were sconces that looked like they were meant to hold more efficient lamp oils, but she supposed oil was more expensive, and more difficult, to acquire than plain wood.

    ¡°Any idea where we¡¯re going, princeling?¡± She murmured out of the corner of her mouth. She saw his lips go white as he pressed them together.

    ¡°Call me that again, and I¡¯ll leave you behind,¡± he promised, his voice more even than his words implied. She grinned despite herself.

    ¡°Liar,¡± she accused. ¡°You¡¯re too curious to leave me behind.¡± He snorted in response, and the tightness around his mouth eased.

    ¡°Axion,¡± he said. It was obviously his name.

    ¡°Karlene,¡± she replied. He shifted his head a bit, looking at her more directly than he had been, eyebrow raised. ¡°What?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s just...the least Enochian name I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±

    Enochian, she thought, letting the term roll over in her mind. It sounded familiar, though she couldn¡¯t place it.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°I was supposed to be a boy,¡± she said. ¡°Mom was going to name me Karl, after my father.¡±

    Axion raised an eyebrow again.

    ¡°Somehow,¡± he said. ¡°I doubt your father¡¯s name was ¡®Karl.¡¯¡±

    ¡°If I could interrupt the princeling and his dropling¡¯s conversation?¡± Milly said from in front of them, her mocking tone capped off with a condescending sniff. She gestured impatiently to a door she¡¯d stopped in front of, cracked open. Karlene could see the telltale flicker of light that only fire could give off, and felt her stomach plummet.

    ¡°Behave yourself, now, my lamb,¡± Milly said, then pushed Karlene into the room.

    Inside, Karlene saw the reason for the fire. The far wall was mostly one giant window that let out onto a balcony overlooking the bay, the same one she¡¯d taken an impromptu dip in the day of her arrival. There were no glass panes, no doors, no windows to keep the cool ocean air from sweeping in and stealing the warmth that otherwise might have kept the room pleasant. Only the sheer size of the roaring hearth to her right kept the chill at bay.

    The lack of doors or shutters made sense when she allowed herself to see and acknowledge the room¡¯s primary occupant. She wouldn¡¯t be able to stand being closed indoors with wings like that, either.

    Diom stood with his back to them, his legs spread wide, thick arms crossed in front of him. His wings were only partially unfurled, and in the firelight they looked thoroughly unearthly. An apt description, she thought to herself, given that they were hardly on earth to begin with¡­

    ¡®Never heard of em,¡¯ Nix had said of angels and demons. Karlene wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, despite her adequate proximity to the fire.

    She never thought she¡¯d wish for the fears of an ordinary abduction.

    ¡°What a pleasant view, Lithandres,¡± Axion said conversationally as he entered the room behind her. He moved to a chair by the fire and helped himself to a seat. He crossed one leg over the other, and managed to look more refined doing it than a politician¡¯s wife in a twinset and heels.

    ¡°I am so touched you decided to share it with me. Of course, it might be more practical to-¡±

    ¡°Spare me your droll attempts at pleasantries,¡± Diom -Lithandres?- said, turning from the window. He didn¡¯t look at her, which was fine with Karlene. She kept very still, watching and listening.

    She eyed the window. How close was it to the edge? How far down was the ground? Would she be lucky enough that it was a short drop down into conveniently rock-free waters?

    Sure, she thought. Might as well wish for a cell tower and a direct line to the NYPD while I¡¯m at it.

    ¡°Since you¡¯ve done me the courtesy of already doing the same, I shall oblige,¡± Axion agreed, tone amicable.

    Snarky ass, she thought, fighting back a grin. As if the mere thought had drawn his attention, Axion glanced quickly at her from the corner of his eye. She guessed he was wondering the same thing she was; why either of them were there.

    Diom spotted the glance, even discreet as it was, and smiled grimly. He answered their silent question without speaking. Instead, he raised one hand, and made a very deliberate, very specific gesture.

    Karlene dropped, and by the time she¡¯d hit the floor she¡¯d forgotten her name, her mother¡¯s name, her mother¡¯s face, her own face...and absolutely everything else. She felt them stripped away one by one, her memories, her fears, her loves, every pathway carved by the cocktail of chemicals in her brain that calculated her every reaction was striped away in a blaze of abrasive nothingness. She swam in nonexistence, the remaining shred of her sanity swathed in confusion. She wished for pain. Pain meant you were real; pain meant you were alive.

    This was worse.

    This was knowing what it was like to cease to exist.

    In a rush, it all came back, and without any part of her working anything other than perfectly, Karlene writhed on the floor and shrieked in twisted anguish. This was a misery no soul, no mind was meant to know and survive. This was¡­

    ¡°Unmaking,¡± Axion was saying, and his voice was nearer than it had been. He was kneeling beside her, his hands holding hers away from her face. Her fingers were bent into claws, and her eyes felt sore, the skin around them raw. She smelled copper, and realized the liquid wetting her cheeks was too thick to be tears.  Only Axion¡¯s hands clamped around her wrists kept her fingernails from doing more damage.

    She¡¯d been trying to claw her own eyes out.

    She felt more than saw Axion twist to face Diom. ¡°The Command of Unmaking. How did you learn that?¡± His voice was full of anger, and fear, and something else.

    She forced herself to draw in deep breaths. She focused on the pain around her eyes; pain was good, pain was existing. Slowly, her grip on reality solidified, and she was able to look up to stare at Diom, at those pretty blue eyes.

    She¡¯d never been more terrified of anything in her life.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he said to Axion. ¡°What does matter, however, is what you¡¯ll do to keep me using it on you.¡± He reached out to the unobtrusive desk that sat against the remaining wall, and lifted a pen. He held it out to Axion. ¡°Tell me where your King is hiding the Alchemist.¡±

    The first time he was asked, Axion tried to tell Diom that he didn¡¯t know what he was talking about. The Alchemist, whoever that was, was a rumor, nothing more. If such a man actually existed and was in the custody of the Enochian -there was that word again- royal court, Axion would know. Since he didn¡¯t know, Diom could rest assured the Alchemist didn¡¯t exist.

    Diom didn¡¯t like that response. He raised his hand, and his fingers contorted.

    This time it was Karlene¡¯s turn to scramble on hands and knees to keep Axion from shredding the flesh of his face with his fingernails, keep him from biting off his own tongue. He was stronger than her, even if she hadn¡¯t been weakened by the ordeals of both days and minutes past, and she barely succeeded in keeping him from digging his fingers into the moist tissue between eyeball and socket, barely managed to wedge a stick of kindling between his teeth.

    By the time Diom dropped his hand and released Axion, both of them were bloodied. Axion¡¯s eyes, when they met Karlene¡¯s, were grim.

    ¡°Let¡¯s try this again,¡± Diom said softly. ¡°Where is the Alchemist?¡±

    ¡°Anything I could tell you would be rumors only,¡± Axion said, still sounding out of breath. Diom raised his hand. ¡°Wait, just- just let me catch my breath, catch my thoughts, I-¡±

    Diom did not lower his hand, but he did shift his attention from Axion, to Karlene.

    There was no need to guess his intent; Axion would get his moment to catch his wind, and Karlene¡¯s sanity would be the cost. Axion¡¯s head snapped up, eyes wide as he stared at Karlene, grief and regret and apology darkening his eyes-

    She bolted for the opening in the far wall, knowing what was coming, hoping there were rocks at the bottom of an unsurvivable fall.

    She made it a single step before the Unmaking hit her, and she collapsed before she could even scream. This time, her brain did the only thing it could to save her, and shut down completely.

 Chapter Ten - From One to Two

    <h1>-Chapter Ten-</h1>

    There was blood under her nails when she woke, though someone had cleaned off the worst of the gore from the rest of her hands. She lay, blinking through the sunlight, in an actual bed. Not a nice one, she was pretty sure the poking-itchy nature of the mattress meant it was more of a straw tick than a true mattress, but a bed nonetheless. And not a rat to be seen or heard; that in and of itself was a bliss.

    Karlene let her hands fall back to the thin sheet that covered her. She was still fully dressed except for her shoes, another thing to be thankful for, and she was alive. And whole. And it was day, strong morning sunlight shining through an open window.

    Without even bothering to raise her hands to bury her face in them, Karlene began to cry. They started out as the small, quiet inhalations that took tears with them when they became exhalations, then grew into great heaving sobs that took a bit of her strength each time she let one loose.

    She had tried to kill herself.

    And not just the once- she¡¯d come awake before Diom had been done with them, and each time Diom had turned his gaze on her and twitched his fingers she¡¯d tried to reach that window. She¡¯d been desperate to reach that unseen ledge, pitting every shred of her broken will on the need to leap down to her death. Because, she knew, death would better, oh so sweetly better, than the nothingness Diom had wielded.

    A weight settled onto the bed at her hip, making her whole body dip slightly to the side. Someone took her hands, and pulled her up into a warm embrace that trembled as much as she did.

    Karlene wrapped her arms around Axion. She sobbed into his chest, and her hands felt his shoulders shudder with his own struggles. She pulled him into her as much as he was pulling her into him; he¡¯d felt it, too. The horrible emptiness, the ceasing of self. She¡¯d watched him come awake with his own blood on his hands and the knowledge that there was something that would make him beg for death. They¡¯d seen each other keen and wail, seen each other torn apart and put back together at a gesture.

    Once she felt she could pull away without falling to pieces again, she tentatively let her arms loosen their hold. Feeling the lessening pressure, Axion leaned back. They sat silently, but not awkwardly, breathing in deep breaths.

    ¡°I had nothing to get the blood out from under your nails,¡± he said, reaching for one of her hands to examine his handyjob almost perfunctually. ¡°When we get out of here, I will have my manicurist take care of it.¡±

    Of all the things she¡¯d expected to be said post-sob-it-out-fest, a promise of a mani-pedi had not even been considered. How silly of her. She gave a choked laugh, despite herself. It wasn¡¯t much of a laugh, hardly more than a wet sniffle, but it was something. He grinned, and some of the pained tension around his mouth and at the corner of his eyes eased.

    ¡°Dropling or not,¡± he said quietly. ¡°You did not deserve that. I am sorry you were involved.¡±

    ¡°You still owe me an explanation,¡± she replied, just as quietly. ¡°What¡¯s a dropling?¡± Honestly, she hardly cared about the answer anymore, except as something to focus on.

    He raised that damn eyebrow again. ¡°Still with that, are you? You honestly cannot expect me to-¡±

    ¡°After what I¡¯ve been through, I can expect whatever I damn well please,¡± she said, cutting him off, her voice quiet but intent. ¡°I have no idea where I am, what¡¯s going on, how people can fly or why some steroid freak with a cosplayer¡¯s wetdream do-it-yourself wings wants with a magic chemist.¡± She¡¯d turned her hand in his, seizing his wrist. ¡°Where I come from, people with wings are legends at best, something out of a fairytale to most. Buildings don¡¯t float, bracelets don¡¯t size themselves, and that¡­that thing he did to us? That doesn¡¯t exist. That doesn¡¯t happen. Can¡¯t happen. It¡¯s beyond the realm of reasonable scientific comprehension.¡±

    He looked down to where she¡¯d grabbed him, that eyebrow arching again. She wanted to shave it off, even if it would ruin an otherwise unfairly gorgeous set of eyes. She realized her nails, still rimmed with red, were digging into his forearm. She let go.

    ¡°Just¡­pretend,¡± she said slowly, trying to keep her voice down. She couldn¡¯t believe she was about to say this.  ¡°For a moment. Just pretend that...that I¡¯m from another world.¡± Recalling the heavy gravity world with three suns she added, ¡°A populated world, one that doesn¡¯t have...droplings.¡±

    Axion leaned back, suddenly regarding her with a look that was distinctly void of manipulated brows. It was, she thought, probably his ¡®you¡¯re kidding¡¯ face. She huffed a sigh, prepared to tell him to nevermind, but then¡­ Then he nodded.

    ¡°I suppose it makes sense,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s been theorized for some time that ours was not the only plane that was inhabited. We just never...well, not we, but I for one never thought to presume that such a race would look so much like us, if we ever crossed paths.¡± He leaned forward, peering at her eyes. ¡°Extraordinary, really¡­¡± He tilted his head, expression growing fascinated. ¡°Tell me, how often do you need to eat? Does our food bother you at all? What about the temperature, the pressure, the-¡±

    Of its own accord, one of Karlene¡¯s hand shot up, palm out, and planted itself over his mouth. His eyebrows shot up in sheer astonishment, then the corners crinkled and she knew he was silently laughing at her. Great.

    He was either mocking her, or he thought she was an alien. And the best part? Technically, if she really was on, or in, another world...then she sort of was an alien. At least to him. She removed her hand from his mouth and tried to rub away the sensation of his lips pressed against his palm on her clothed thigh.

    ¡°What do you call yourselves?¡± She asked, gesturing to him. ¡°The race of people who look like you? Ordinary, no wings, no...magic traveling blood.¡±

    He crossed his arms. ¡°Who says I¡¯m ordinary?¡±

    ¡°The fact you haven¡¯t ashed your way out of here yet.¡± She crossed her own, mirroring him.

    ¡°Ashed?¡±

    ¡°You know, the whole pentacle of doom meets blood equals pillar of ash and smoke and the handy side effect of taking you somewhere else?¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Ah, Keyholes and Gates.¡± He nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°The circles, those are Keyholes. The ¡®pillar of ash¡¯ would be the Gate.¡± Of course they had nice sounding terms. She preferred hers.

    ¡°All right, the fact you haven¡¯t keyholed your way out of here says you¡¯re not...whatever I am. The lack of wings sort of explains away the only other option I¡¯ve seen.¡±

    His relaxed, fascinated posture evaporated. ¡°So you can do it. But you¡¯re not from here? That¡¯s...¡± His face became shuttered. ¡°Rather unbelievable, frankly.¡±

    Karlene pressed her lips together hard enough that they tingled from sudden lack of circulation. She shoved the blanket away from her, and wiggled out of bed.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to believe me,¡± she said, harsher than she¡¯d intended. Their pleasant moment had passed. ¡°I just need you to-¡±

    The door slammed open, and both she and Axion stiffened. He stood and moved away from the door to stand beside her, and for some reason, perhaps in light of their brewing argument, the motion solidified something. She wasn¡¯t sure what. The fact they were on the same side? She wouldn¡¯t have thought that needed solidifying after their meeting with Diom.

    Sid entered, his hands full of a tray, which was why he¡¯d needed to kick the door open

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, and crossed the room to set the tray on the bed. He nodded to the tray. ¡°No forks, Diom¡¯s orders, sorry.¡± He seemed about to say something else, then turned to leave.

    ¡°You¡¯re saying ¡®sorry¡¯ an awful lot for a kidnapper.¡±

    Sid froze, then reached for the door. She thought her opportunity had passed, but then he shut the door with him still in the room, and turned back to her. For a moment, he was again the almost pitiable, gangly young man she¡¯d given what she¡¯d thought was his first job.

    ¡°Because I am sorry, Karlene,¡± he blurted. ¡°I really, really am. I¡¯m the one that spotted you, guessed what you were. I didn¡¯t think it would work, we didn¡¯t think it was possible to find someone like you on your world. If I¡¯d known what Diom would do, I never would have told the others about you, I swear. I would have stayed stuck on your dead world rather than...than that.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s your moral limit? You thought the worst that would happen would be, what? You steal someone from one world, strand them on yours, without so much as a ¡®hey, by the way, in our world your kind are used as wormhole battery slaves and we lost ours?¡¯¡± Her hands went to her hips, staring into Sid¡¯s guilty eyes. ¡°That¡¯s what happened, isn¡¯t it? Mynda? She was your last, what do you keep calling me? Dropling? You lost her, or she died, so you grabbed me.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve always taken care of our droplings,¡± he said, some of his confidence returning. ¡°Better than any of them!¡± He jerked his chin towards Axion. ¡°Mynda was an accident. We miscalculated. We thought she had one more in her.¡±

    Axion snorted. ¡°And you say you treat them better. You¡¯d have used up this Mynda¡¯s Als¡¯canil to get home and left her a drudge like the rest. I¡¯ve seen your kitchen staff. How quick do you burn through them, halfwing?¡±

    Dropling, Als¡¯canil, drudges, halfwing. Terms that she knew were connected, and she was starting to construct the web of ¡®how¡¯ in her mind, but there was still so much unexplained. So much about her, so much that was responsible for her being there, being so very afraid, and she was abruptly done.

    ¡°Sid,¡± she said quietly. ¡°If you¡¯re really sorry, then help me. Send me home.¡±

    He looked pained. ¡°I can¡¯t, Karlene. We need you. Most droplings are bound to noble houses, or to Waystations like the ones you saw in Pyroxis. Even with all the money in the world, you can¡¯t buy one without the right paperwork. You¡¯re undocumented, Karlene, and we need-¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± she cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. ¡°Then help me another way.¡±

    She¡¯d never expected him to actually help her escape, but the lesser evil of this request might be easier for him to accept.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m not from here. Please, Sid, please tell me what¡¯s going on. How did you know I was different? How can you do what you do with...with my¡­¡± She gestured to the still healing scab at her wrist.

    Beside her, Axion still looked unconvinced. Fine, she didn¡¯t need to convince him, not if she could guilt Sid into giving her the answers she needed. She couldn¡¯t help but feel that if she just knew more, she might be able to get home on her own.

    Sid came around the bed and sat on the edge. He gestured to the tray, and Axion went to it, selected two of the least moldy slices of dark bread, picked off the green bits, and handed one to her. Despite herself, her stomach rolled over itself and she took it.

    ¡°This world is called Enoi,¡± he said. ¡°Like you call yours Earth. Most of us are just like the people who live in your world. We¡¯re not another planet, though, we¡¯re¡­ I don¡¯t know what you¡¯d call it, if you even have a name for it.¡±

    ¡°Dimension, I think,¡± she said. ¡°Another plane of existence.¡±

    ¡°Close enough,¡± Sid shrugged. He reached for a piece of bread, ignoring the bits of mold. ¡°Each world, each ¡®dimension,¡¯ goes through time and space slightly faster or slower than others. Some go way faster or slower than others.

    ¡°When we want to travel to a different place in Enoi, someplace far, we travel to another world that¡¯s going faster, or slower, in either time or space as we need it to. Then we jump back. It takes a lot of people who are a lot smarter than me to calculate where to jump for how long, but once we know, it¡¯s easy.¡±

    ¡°And you do this using the ash pillars,¡± she said. ¡°Keyholes.¡±

    ¡°Keyholes are the ring of runes,¡± Sid said around a mouthful of moldy bread. ¡°Once we pair a keyhole with a key -Dropling blood- a Gate is opened.¡± She tried to ignore the sight of him open-mouthed chewing the greenish bread and focus on his explanation. During the slight pause while he swallowed, Karlene caught Axion staring at her. Watching her take in the information. Looking for what?

    ¡°Fullblood Enochians -the ones with wings you saw flying around Pyroxis?- they don¡¯t need keyholes to do it,¡± Sid went on, oblivious to the intensity with which Axion was watching Karlene. ¡°But the rest of us need the essence of droplings, people like you. Catch is, you only have so much in you. Each time we use one of you to open a Gate, it drains a little bit of that essence that makes dropling blood do what it does.¡±

    ¡°Does it...replenish? Like blood does?¡± Karlene asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Axion answered for Sid. ¡°It doesn¡¯t replenish.¡±

    Sid seemed to have finally clued in to the way Axion was observing their conversation. He brushed crumbs from his lap with a nervous flick of his fingers, then picked up where Axion left off, speaking now with somewhat more respect than he had a moment before.

    ¡°When it¡¯s all gone, something happens to droplings. Something to make ¡®em...I dunno, less. They¡¯re not stupid, just slow, and¡­.¡± he shrugged. ¡°Well, you saw.¡±

    ¡°Saw what?¡± She pressed. ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°The kitchen staff,¡± Axion said quietly. ¡°They were all droplings, once. Like you. They were used to open keyholes down to their Last Drop, their Als¡¯canil.¡±

    Karlene felt a chill, thinking of their utter lack of interest in the world around them. Then she remembered something else, from her first conversation with Axion.

    ¡°Als¡¯canil,¡± she whispered. She looked at Axion. ¡°That¡¯s what you meant by negotiating to let me keep¡­ And you said it like you¡¯d be doing me some sort of favor!¡± She dropped the remnants of the bread in her hand, glaring at him. ¡°What kind of sick place is this? You bleed people dry until they¡¯re soulless husks, so you can travel around quicker?¡±

    ¡°It would be a favor,¡± Sid cut in. ¡°Droplings have no rights here, Karlene. You all belong at birth to either the King or to members of the Council, and at their pleasure droplings are loaned to the members of the court, or to the public transport system. Droplings under the King¡¯s protection want for nothin¡¯, and if they make their masters happy, then they get to keep the last bit of their Als¡¯canil. Sometimes they¡¯re even given a writ of citizenship, and move somewhere no one ever knew they were born a Dropling.¡±

    ¡°And how often does that happen?¡± She snapped. ¡°Nevermind, even if it were every time, it¡¯s not right. Their ¡®last drop¡¯ is not yours to let them keep! Neither is anything else about them!¡±

    ¡°Your,¡± Axion corrected quietly. Karlene turned the full force of her furious stare on him. He didn¡¯t so much as flinch. ¡°Not ¡®their,¡¯ not ¡®them.¡¯ You. You¡¯re a Dropling, Karlene, whatever else you may have thought you were.¡±

    Breathing hard, though she was doing nothing but standing still, Karlene turned her stare back on Sid. ¡°Get out,¡± she hissed. ¡°Get out!¡±

    Sid stood, looking startled. She¡¯d dwell later on what it must be like for him, apologizing and explaining things to what was, to him, a barely-human civic asset. In this world, she apparently amounted to the same worth as a goddamn public bus.

    He left, and she heard the fall of tumblers in a lock after the door was shut.

    She turned and leaned against the open window, hands clenching the sill. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry some more. She¡¯d done enough of both, she thought. She rounded on Axion.

    ¡°You mentioned a rescue,¡± she said. ¡°Start talking.¡±

 Chapter Eleven - From Captured to Free

    <h1>-Chapter Eleven-</h1>

    Axion didn¡¯t get a chance to acquiesce or refuse. The door rattled in its frame as someone unlocked it, shoving it open with somewhat less force than Sid had. Karlene knew it was Milly almost before the woman¡¯s tree-trunk frame became visible. Rowe was behind her, bearing ropes. For Axion, Karlene assumed. She curled her fingers to keep from fiddling with her cuffs. Milly saw, and smirked.

    ¡°If the princeling is done enjoying his breakfast?¡± Milly swept a clumsy, mocking curtsey and gestured grandly towards the door as Rowe finished binding the cooperative Axion¡¯s hands. When he said nothing, Milly cackled and walked out, trusting Rowe to herd them after her, which he did.

    ¡°Why do I never see anyone but you people?¡± Karlene asked Rowe. ¡°I saw plenty of people the first day out in the courtyard, but now only you and Nix and Sid. And the hag, here. Is no one else allowed inside?¡±

    Without looking back at her, Milly raised a short cudgel hanging from her belt and shook it threateningly. Karlene was somewhat surprised at her own lack of fear. She wondered if, after Diom¡¯s tender ministrations, she¡¯d ever have a healthy fear of physical harm ever again.

    ¡°Most live in camps spread out in the forest,¡± Rowe answered, stretching massive arms above his head with a grunt. Milly glanced back to scowl at him, but ignored her. ¡°In case this place is ever found, most of us will be safe.¡±

    ¡°Then why do you three always stay?¡±

    Rowe patted her on the head, an easy gesture for someone his size. ¡°Because we do,¡± was all he said.

    Both she and Axion relaxed somewhat when they were led not to Diom¡¯s open-air study, but instead to the kitchens. There, they were put to work alongside the drudges beneath Milly¡¯s barbed command. Axion¡¯s hands remained bound, which made all but the most simple tasks difficult. He was put in charge of stirring the three massive cauldrons of porridge that were suspended over coals hot enough to scald if one stood too near. Karlene was shown how to make the porridge, pouring bags of stale oats, dried peas, hunks of potato more gray than not, and huge dollops of nearly rancid, congealed fat drippings into the cauldrons as Axion stirred. It was, she knew, what she¡¯d eaten yesterday. She knew she¡¯d eat it again, though her insides would not thank her for it. Food was food, and she couldn¡¯t afford to be picky.

    ¡°I¡¯d kill for some monkey bread,¡± she mumbled to herself, watching the oily clump of fat slip free of the giant wooden spoon she was using to scoop it out of the bucket in her other hand. In lieu of the mind-tumbling information she¡¯d managed to glean from Sid and Axion, her thoughts had turned to her stomach¡¯s nagging for real food.

    ¡°Beg pardon?¡± Axion asked. The eyebrow went up along with his voice at the end of the inquiry.

    ¡°Monkey bread,¡± Karlene repeated with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask my mom to bake me  whole pan of it when I get home.¡±

    ¡°Your mother bakes?¡± He¡¯d released his hold on his own stirring spoon with one hand, flexing the cramping limb before switching to do the same for the other.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°She tries,¡± Karlene shrugged. ¡°Monkey bread is easy, though. Just dough, some spices, sweet syrupy sauce of some kind, done.¡±

    Axion was silent for a moment. Then, ¡°Cridolains,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll have cridolains made for me by the platter.¡±

    She hadn¡¯t missed the ¡®made for me¡¯ part. She recalled Milly¡¯s ¡®princeling¡¯ jibes.

    You¡¯ve got to be kidding me, she thought, a suspicion beginning to grow. Still, she asked, ¡°What are those?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you have anything similar, but...well, suffice to say it is the cooked limbs of an eight-legged sea creature we have here, cut into shorter pieces, hollowed then stuffed with minced sweetmeats and spices, breaded, then fried.¡± He gave her a sheepish smile. ¡°I ate enough of them as a child to guarantee a rotund youth had I not also been...active, shall we say.¡±

    ¡°Pizza,¡± she said next, adding to the list. ¡°Large circle of flattened bread dough, covered with sauce, meats, cheeses, sometimes vegetables. Small pickled fishes, too, if you like the taste of death. Baked then usually consumed with an unhealthy amount of beer.¡±

    ¡°Panzim,¡± was his addition. ¡°The thick skin of an exotic fruit, coated with sugar and left to dry. The flesh of the fruit is vile, but the skin becomes sweet and chewy.¡±

    ¡°When I was taken to Pyroxis,¡± she said suddenly. ¡°They bought me something to eat from a street vendor.¡± She described it. ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡±

    ¡°Longfolds, I think is the common vernacular,¡± he said.

    ¡°You think?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever had it.¡± He sounded almost aloof.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never had a hotdog?¡± She raised her own eyebrow this time.

    ¡°Is that what you would call it?¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± She rolled her eyes.

    ¡°If you had a name for it, why ask?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t really a hotdog, just pretty close to one. It¡¯s something we have back home.¡± She shrugged when answering.

    They fell silent, moving together to the next cauldron. Karlene wondered, absently, what they planned to do with so much of the decidedly unappetizing bubbling messes. Even when she¡¯d seen the courtyard occupied with a fair number of people, she still thought this too much food. They couldn¡¯t think to let it keep? Were they trying to give their whole cult food poisoning?

    ¡°You truly are from somewhere else?¡± He asked her, and their silence had gone on long enough that the sudden question surprised her. She blinked at him, feeling mildly incredulous.

    ¡°Of all the things we¡¯ve talked about, hotdogs is what convinces you?¡±

    His lips quirked. ¡°I¡¯m told mine is an odd way of thinking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll say,¡± she murmured, turning back to her task of adding more fat to the mix. ¡°Can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this, but¡­ No, I¡¯m really not from around here. I don¡¯t think. Hard to say for sure, since, you know, other worlds aren¡¯t supposed to exist. Not like this.¡±

    ¡°Oh? How should they exist?¡±

    ¡°With big blonde vikings wielding magic hammers and hot little shit adopted brothers,¡± she muttered in reply, then sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Just...this wasn¡¯t what I would have-¡±

    It took Karlene a half moment, perhaps longer, to register what had interrupted her. An explosion. Another half second to force her thoughts through her confusion, through the lack of logic, and to realize she was laying flat on her back, everything hurt, and her ears were full of a ringing roar.

    Beside her, Axion was gasping. She saw more than heard when his compressed chest finally expanded as he recaught the wind that had been shoved out of him. He was covered in a fine layer of dust, and at his feet one of the giant cauldrons had been tipped over to spill its viscous contents across the flagstones.

    Axion reached for her, and she took his hand and let him help her to her. Together they scrambled to their feet, staring through the haze of dust and smoke¡­

    And out into sunlight. Where the massive hearth had been, there was now a giant, ragged hole the size of a wagon, letting in the late morning sunlight.

    The glance they exchanged was a brief one, enough to ensure they were on the same page and neither had gone insane from sudden head trauma. Then they were running for the gaping hole in the wall, Karlene¡¯s burst eardrums ensuring she didn¡¯t hear Milly¡¯s shrieks and the pained moans of the drudges behind them.

 Chapter Twelve - From Awake to Not

    <h1>-Chapter Twelve-</h1>

    They stumbled free of the rubble, emerging into sunlight that showed them a dense forest to their right, and an unobstructed field to their left that ended at the cliff overlooking the bay. Instinctually, Karlene shied towards the forest, where there was cover. A hand on her arm brought her up short, and Axion dragged her the other direction, his hands still bound awkwardly.

    ¡°Diom will see!¡± She shouted. She could hardly hear herself, so she had no idea how loud she actually was. She gestured wildly up at the fort. Diom¡¯s room had been facing over the cliff towards the bay, where they were now running to. She had a terrifying vision of the winged behemoth sweeping down to pluck her from gravity¡¯s grasp. Or worse, see them running and just make that horrible gesture, that casual twisting of fingers.

    Axion was pointing as he ran, grinning widely. Her gaze followed his finger and her attention was caught by a flash of brilliant red...something rising up from over the edge of the cliff. It rose higher, and the more of it that became visible, the more Karlene¡¯s incredulity grew.

    ¡°You have got to be kidding,¡± she gasped.

    It was a dirigible. Or at least something like one. The giant, elongated balloon part kept her from being able to call it anything else. Images of the Hindenburg and other bad ideas with helium and fire rose to the front of her mind as the deck of the thing, suspended beneath the bulbous red balloon, came into view and she saw figures scurrying about. One in particular, swathed in black and red, was waving wildly to them. The figure had wings.

    ¡°Faster!¡± She heard Axion shout, his voice muffled but discernible. She shook herself free of his grip, and picked up her pace.  More winged people or no, if that floating death bag would take her away from this place and Diom, she¡¯d ride it all the way to hell.

    Something -not sound, she still could barely hear- made her look back. A winged figure stood atop a rampart, and although she could make out no details, she knew every line of him was contorted with cold rage. Below, smaller figures scurried out from the fort, chasing after them. Unless Diom took flight -and why hadn¡¯t he?- they wouldn¡¯t catch up before they were aboard the dirigible.

    A ramp was extended from the hull of the ship. It clattered against the ground just a few feet ahead of where the ground sheared away. As they neared it Axion reached out a hand to her and pushed her ahead of him, making her stumble. She caught herself and sprinted across the ramp, looking fixedly ahead and not at the long falls that were bare inches to either side of her. She felt the boards vibrate beneath her feet, could almost hear the clamor of Axion¡¯s boots at her heels.

    Then they were aboard and the ramp was being drawn back, someone hollered a shout loud enough for even her to hear, and the ship¡¯s deck surged beneath them as the balloon abruptly hauled them all higher and higher.

    Karlene moved to rise, but a heavy arm over her shoulders kept her down. A moment later she realized the why as there was a shower arrows hitting the hull and arching over the railings to drive into the deck. One arrow hit, quivering, a mere handspan from her face. More arrows flew, and she had a only a moment for a horrible idea, a dread, to occur to before the inaudible sound of fabric tearing was followed by an almost innocuous hiss, and then-

    ¡°Brace yourselves!¡± A voice boomed out, loud enough to make her skull vibrate. Beside her, Axion¡¯s arm shot out to grasp a metal loop that was bolted to the deck. She reached out and grabbed it, too, at the same time the vessel plunged a sudden, gut-wrenching dozen feet, then stopped before dropping another ten, pause, then a dozen more.

    The ship had begun to spin, it¡¯s starboard side tilting precariously, and every time they sunk abruptly in the sky Karlene¡¯s lower extremities experienced a moment of weightlessness before slapping the back down hard enough to bruise.

    Hard shocks began to shiver up the deck, rhythmic and precise. A great gust swept over the vessel, and a rushing, whistling hum filled the air. The start-and-stop falling ceased.

    Hands pulled at her, and she jerked away in startlement. She looked up at Axion as he held out calming hands, his hair teased into something truly frightening by the wind.

    The wind.

    They were moving.

    Horizontally, not vertically. They¡¯d stopped falling.

    She looked around as she stood, willing her limbs to stop shaking. She looked out over the railing; the fort-topped cliff was far behind, while the ocean horizon was before them in a great long slash of blue-meeting-deeper-blue.

    She saved looking up for last, knowing she wasn¡¯t going to understand what she would see and finding herself decidedly not eager to be even more confused than she¡¯d been.

    Pleasant surprise flickered through her, however, when she realized she did recognize what was going on over her head. Sort of.

    Propellers. A giant pair of propellers, spinning happily away where the balloon had been. Her best guess, a vague best guess, was that the propeller blades had been inside the dirigible balloon. When it had been punctured by arrows and deflated -and where was the red fabric?- the propeller blades had been deployed. She remembered the rhythmic, almost mechanical thumping that had shaken the deck as they¡¯d begun to fall.

    She turned, noting Axion was speaking to the winged man in the red coat who¡¯d waved them aboard, and went to the railing. She looked over, and nodded to herself when she saw great curved arms extended from the hull, each bearing downward facing propellers of their own. Stabilizers, she thought.

    She leaned on the railing and let her head fall into her hands. Her moment of relief at seeing something that made sense -more sense, at least- was quickly being doused in a deluge of common logic. The propellers were not big enough to lift a vessel of this mass. If it were made of aluminum, or carbon fiber, then maybe. Maybe. But solid wood? No. And what was powering them? She heard no roar of engines, and any engine big enough to rotate those things would have made the laughing conversation going on behind her impossible to hear, especially with her busted ears.

    Karlene turned, rested her back against the wooden railing, and slid down it. Adrenaline was all well and good, but the crash it guaranteed would beat the worst sugar high every time. Her face returned to her hands, fingers working at the bridge of her nose, her temples, sliding into her hair to interlace at the back of her neck.

    Her ears were ringing, blood and other fluids leaking from them still. The initial explosion in the kitchens had given her one hell of a bruise across her back, and somewhere along the way something had given her a long slice across her left bicep that was just now making its presence known with pulsing, stinging throbs timed to match her heartbeat. Dully, she thought of infections and scars and other potential problems that would go unseen and untreated without MRI machines and real doctors.

    The thoughts flitted across the surface of her mind, unable to find purchase in the worn-down landscape of her overtaxed brain. She hadn¡¯t forgotten, as much as she¡¯d wanted to, Sid¡¯s revelations. These people were just as likely to use her as a walking portal battery as the last group. At least Sid and the others had known who she was and where she was from.

    Had she jumped from one fire into another? She¡¯d escaped Diom, but who was to say this other winged man in red couldn¡¯t also do that horrible thing, that Unmaking?

    Karlene lifted her head, letting her hands fall down to hang between her upraised knees and looked around.

    Surprisingly, no one seemed to be paying her any mind. Had she not been too exhausted for anything other than analytical survivor¡¯s logic, she might have been offended. As it was, she was glad she was able to watch as Axion and the red-coated man were brought folding chairs and a folding table. Another person followed with a loaded tray. They both waited while the crewmembers that had brought the portable furniture set up their little tea party, hardly paying them any mind even when they sat and accepted mugs of something steaming.

    She was surprised when Axion looked up, spotted her with a casual glance, and gestured. At once, one of the crew filled another mug and brought it to her.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said. The crewman raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing.

    Karlene kept watching the two seated men, distracted enough that she almost took a sip. She paused. The last time she¡¯d been given something hot to drink after an ordeal, it had ended with her being a brainless slave. No thanks. She set down the mug beside her, regretting the loss of the warmth and hydration.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Axion was making grand, melodramatic gestures, and laughing the exuberant laughter of the adrenaline-filled and newly rescued. She didn¡¯t know him well enough to say for sure if it looked forced or not. The other man was much more subdued, though he smiled widely enough that Karlene had no doubts he was glad to have Axion back.

    Whatever her misgivings might be about her own immediate future, it was clear Axion was well and truly rescued.

    She eyed the wings that spread themselves casually out behind Mr. Red Coat, flexing and retracting in much the same way someone might stretch out a limb in the sun. The light played off the feathers, and Karlene noticed they were different from Diom¡¯s. Where his had been a soft ivory, these were almost harsh in their whiteness, with a blue glow to the faint shadows cast by each feather. Where the sunlight hit them straight on, Karlene had to blink to dispel the rainbow sheen that appeared.

    He was blonde, of course, like Diom. The blue eyes didn¡¯t help the comparison, either, nor the sparkle of white teeth that flashed when he grinned. Wonder where his harp¡¯s hidden, she thought.

    Something in Axion¡¯s tone and posture changed as she watched the reunited friends. Her busted ears kept her from being able to make out exactly what they were saying, but if she focused she could pick up inflections. Axion¡¯s voice had gone from jovial, almost nonchalant at times, to¡­ Well, something that let her guess what part of the retelling he¡¯d gotten to. His eyes were down, no longer looking directly at Redcoat. He also, with a sudden deliberateness that she could feel, did not look at her.

    Karlene¡¯s breath stuck in her throat, and she shivered. She wouldn¡¯t want to talk about the Unmaking, either.

    Redcoat reached out, and with a deliberateness that told her he didn¡¯t touch others often, laid a hand on Axion¡¯s shoulder. Axion¡¯s reaction was instant, and nearly unnoticeable to anyone not watching as closely as she was. He stiffened, and at once his entire awareness seemed, to Karlene, to be focused on that hand. A reaction to being touched during a bad memory? She¡¯d thought Axion more self contained than that. Then again, she wasn¡¯t eager to be manhandled again, either.

    Abruptly, Redcoat looked at her, and quite plainly asked Axion to explain her presence. Axion motioned to her, a clear summons.

    She wanted to be annoyed at the imperiousness of the gesture, but whatever else may come, he had gotten her away from Diom. She figured she owed him this much.

    As she approached, Axion resumed speaking to Redcoat, clearly introducing her. She caught her name through the underwater muffle, and a few other words that told her he was telling Redcoat how they¡¯d met.

    She did not, she realized, catch anything about keyholes, gates, Als¡¯casomething, or other worlds, though she couldn¡¯t be sure. She glanced to Redcoat, trying to see something, anything, on his face that  might clue her in better. He was looking at her, rather than Axion. No, not at her, at the trickles of blood that had dried in dark, flaking rivulets down the sides of her face and neck. He raised a hand and gestured, calling out something. A name, she thought. He said something to Axion then, who blinked suddenly and also fixated on the red trails.

    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± He asked her, and though he had spoken louder than he had been she still half had to read his lips and infer from context.

    ¡°Barely,¡± she confessed, and her voice sounded like it had been filtered through soggy cotton to her own ears.

    A man emerged from the hatch that Redcoat had gestured to earlier. He was wingless, thankfully, and wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose. A wealth of blue-and-pink hair was swept back in a sleek tail, and with his form being pale and tall he looked so much like a walking paper stick of cotton candy that she gave a half snort, half laugh at the sight of him. She managed to turn it into a coughing fit at the last moment, and Axion reached up to pat her on the back awkwardly. She gave him a look, and he dropped the arm with a shrug.

    The man came towards her, and she noted a leather satchel in his hand. At once, she thought of the night she¡¯d been taken, of Sid with his leather bundle, with that slender knife. She backed away, unable to hide her sudden panic. Axion reached out again and grabbed her by her left forearm, standing as he did so. He was talking, his words quick and low, too low for her to hear.

    ¡°Stay away!¡± She said. ¡°No more!¡±

    Redcoat was standing, looking at her oddly, looking at Axion¡¯s hands now holding both her arms, keeping her from backing away further. He barked a question, and Axion shot a distracted response over his shoulder. She caught ¡®explain later.¡¯ Or something close. Cotton-candy man had set his satchel on the folding table and removed a tool that glinted in the light. She stopped struggling, and blinked at it.

    A tuning fork? The last time she¡¯d seen one of those had been an elementary school science experiment. She raised one hand to touch an ear. All right, she thought. No knife. No etchings on the deck. If Cotton-candy man wants to try to fix my ears, I can work with that. She stopped pulling away, took a breath, and nodded. She¡¯d be embarrassed about her panic attack later. Or not- she rather thought her reaction had been justified.

    Tuning fork in hand, the man approached. She saw it wasn¡¯t quite a true tuning fork; while it did have the two prerequisite metal prongs, there was also a contraption on the handle that looked like something out of a Jules Verne acid trip. Tubes of glowing liquid jutted out from a brass box with dials and numbered wheels, and as he came closer the man turned a few of the dials before nodding to himself.

    The man looked to Karlene, and held out the tool on the flat palm of one hand, his other hand held out, also flat, palm towards her. Waiting for something?

    Her permission, she realized. She looked up into the tall man¡¯s gently smiling face, into eyes that looked just wild enough to make that stupid cotton-candy colored hair work for him.

    She¡¯d been kidnapped, manhandled, tortured, starved, used against her will for arcane things, and this man with his ridiculous hair was asking her permission to help?

    She could have kissed him.

    Instead, she just nodded. Smiling, the man raised the thing to the side of her face, and gently tapped her temple with it. As she expected, the prongs began to blur, and a high pitched whine that she thought only she could hear began to bore into her ear canal. It wasn¡¯t quite painful, not yet, but it certainly was uncomfortable. She fought to keep from flinching away. She felt five years old again, trying to earn the promised reward of icecream if she behaved for the doctor.

    There was a pop, the sensation of pressure being released, and a sudden sharp pain that made her gasp.

    Then, she could hear. Out of that one ear, at least. The muffled sounds of the deck sharpened into sounds she could understand once more. Cotton-candy man went to her other ear, and this time she was prepared for the pain. She worked her jaw when he was done, eliciting a few more pops.

    ¡°Better, I trust?¡± Axion had released her arms and stepped back.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said, rubbing at one ear gingerly. It was sore, but now she could hear fine. She knew enough about anatomy to know that she had no idea how her ears had been fixed by a madman¡¯s tool, knew that a tuning fork shouldn¡¯t have fixed busted eardrums. All she knew is that she could hear again.

    Right then and there, she resolved to stop questioning the whys and hows of this world¡¯s ability to turn her -admittedly infantile- understanding of science and physics on its head. All she would do was drive herself insane.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said to Cotton-candy, and immediately felt awkward when he beamed at her. She looked at Redcoat, and took a deep breath. It wasn¡¯t his fault he looked so much like Diom, and he was clearly in charge of the ship that had come to her rescue. So, she pushed herself to step forward and extended a hand.

    ¡°I¡¯m Karlene. Thanks for the rescue.¡±

    Beside her, Axion snickered as Redcoat raised an eyebrow and frowned at her hand. He made no move to take it. Her hand hung, suspended in the air by her tired arm. She let it drop.

    Not quite willing to give into the awkwardness, she pressed, ¡°And...you are?¡±

    Axion began laughing. Without thinking, she gave into the spike of annoyance she felt and turned towards him to give his shoulder a rough shove. If it was an overly-familiar thing she normally would not have done to a near stranger, well, she was of the opinion that witnessing each other¡¯s insanity-driven suicide attempts counted towards at least six months of acquaintance.

    Axion choked out what sounded like an apology, though she couldn¡¯t be sure who it was directed at. He straightened and collected himself as she turned back to Redcoat.

    ¡°You may call me Leontis, for the duration of our voyage at least,¡± he said. He was grinning, too. There was something she wasn¡¯t getting, and she abruptly didn¡¯t care what it was. She rubbed her face with her hands.

    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± she said with a tired sigh. ¡°And really. Thank you.¡± She made herself mean it. Not that she didn¡¯t, exactly. It was more like she was out of energy, out of emotion, and he deserved more than that. She remembered Diom, and Milly, and she shuddered. A lot more.

    Leontis nodded absently as he flicked out a wingtip to discourage a large flying insect from landing on the pristine white feathers.

    ¡°You were a¡­¡± he paused, seeming to rethink his words. Then he shrugged again and continued. ¡°Your rescue was not the goal, so your thanks is unnecessary.¡± He looked past her, at Axion. ¡°You will take my cabin,¡± he said to his friend. ¡°The girl should stay with you. The crew will just see an unclaimed Dropling, not your¡­¡± he seemed to struggle for the right word and it struck Karlene that this golden boy was not nearly as smooth as he wanted to be, and knew it.

    ¡°His what?¡± Karlene¡¯s hands went to her hips. Leontis looked at her, actually looked at her, for the first time since she¡¯d come aboard. His gaze bore into her, and for a moment she wondered if this man and Diom were related afterall. A shiver of fear climbed up her spine, and she took an involuntary step back. A hand placed between her shoulder blades kept her from taking a second step.

    ¡°She is a friend,¡± Axion said firmly. He gave her a push, enough to move her forward. He kept pushing her past Leontis, towards the hatch. ¡°My thanks, Leo. For your cabin, and for thinking of my friend. I would not have thought of...that.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Leontis said, raising his arms to stretch upwards casually.

    ¡°Arrogant,¡± Axion snorted, still walking away. He¡¯d spoken loudly, plainly, and with heaps of affection.

    ¡°Disrespectful,¡± came the reply, the tone and volume and sentiment mirrored.

    Axion snorted. ¡°Foolhardy.¡±

    ¡°Vain.¡±

    ¡°Monosyllabic.¡±

    ¡°Good night, Squire.¡±

    Axion let loose laugh as he opened the hatch and ushered her through. She took this to mean he¡¯d won their little exchange. Had it not been for everything else, she might have been amused. Instead, all she managed was a twinge of loneliness.

    Axion led her down a set of narrow steps to a lower level, where a long corridor ended at another wooden hatch, this one engraved with a scene of birds in flight, their plumages stained different shades of wood tones. It was the least gaudy decoration she¡¯d seen since arriving. Axion pushed it open, and she followed him in, letting a finger trail over a thrush¡¯s flared wingspan. The carving was so intricate, she almost thought she felt feathers.

    Inside, the cabin was more in tune with what she¡¯d come to expect. A ruby carpet was laid over a deck that had been painted indigo blue. The hull retained its wooden color, but nearly every splinter of it was covered with tapestries. The bird theme continued, with most of them depicting flocks of swans on sapphire pools, bluejays against a sunset pink sky, other birds she didn¡¯t recognize set into equally colorful scenes. Each one would have been beautiful if not for the violent clash of colors surrounding them.

    The bed was the worst; silk sheets and bedspread, both dyed gold and sewn with red, green, and blue embroidery. It was a work of art in and of itself, but the orange velvet pillows destroyed the grand effect. She was actually glad when Axion¡¯s movements made it obvious he intended to sleep in it; he swept the bedspread and one of the plainer pillows off the bed and onto the floor.

    Karlene stared at the pile of gold silk, blinking. Something small and childish in the back of her mind hooted with laughter, recalling every hour of her misspent youth buried in fairy tale books where, in this scenario, the handsome stranger would have either insisted she take the bed, whilst innocently striping down to snug breeches, or even better- have insisted she share the bed with him, some oh so convenient quirk making it logical, or even necessary.

    Oh, she wanted to laugh.

    ¡°Do not leave this cabin without me,¡± was all her companion said before falling into the bed face first, still fully dressed. By the sound of his breathing, he was asleep within moments. The sudden, still silence of the room became permeating. Axion¡¯s soft breaths were not enough to break its hold, and Karlene found herself swaying with exhaustion despite having woken up mere hours ago.

    She wasn¡¯t sure why she was still standing by the door, staring at the makings of a bed far better than anything else she¡¯d slept on since arriving, even better than the itchy straw-tick bed from that morning. She let loose a groan and forced herself to pick up one foot, then the other, and shuffled towards the pile of silk and down and cotton. She collapsed into it, aiming her head towards the pillow, and sighed when the softness enveloped her. A scent, something between lavender and camomile, wafted around and into her. She had enough time to contemplate trying to work one flap of the tangled bedspread around her, but before she could actually move to do it, she was asleep.

 Chapter Thirteen - From No-One to Someone

    <h1>-Chapter Thirteen-</h1>

    Karlene woke only a few hours later. She¡¯d only been awake for half the day before her escape, after all. Wakefulness aside, she had no desire to leave the nest of pillows and down-stuffed blankets; a second one had been draped over her at some point. Soft sunlight made its way into the room through the milky panes of the round portholes. One was even open slightly, allowing a breeze to whistle its way in. She could make out the passing of clouds through the gap, the striking blue sky behind them. She didn¡¯t smell the sea, anymore. They must be over land.

    Over land, she thought again to herself, and raised a hand to rub at her face. Sleep had not helped her grasp of her new reality, but she was beginning to think nothing but time would. Although, if she had her way, she¡¯d be on her way home before enough time had elapsed for that to be a possibility.

    Realizing she had nowhere to go, really, she let herself settle further into her makeshift bed, and examine the room. It was just as garishly colored as she remembered, every hard surface covered in something plush, or silken, or painted. A desk was bolted to the floor across from her, even it¡¯s glistening mahogany marred with layers and layers of bright, swirling paint. The bed was empty, but she¡¯d noticed that first thing upon waking. The remaining bedding was rumpled, the pillows exiled to the floor. Apparently, Axion was a violent sleeper.

    Eventually, comfort turned to stiffness, and Karlene stumbled from the nest and stretched. She forcefully did not let herself contemplate how long it had been since she¡¯d bathed, or changed her clothes, or attended to any other hygienic details. Milly and the drudges had looked as if they¡¯d bathed once a year, and were used to it. The same with Sid and the others once they¡¯d all returned home. Among them, it had been easier to ignore her own wretchedness, but now¡­ She resisted the urge to lift her arm and sniff.

    The ship had to have a bathroom of some sort. A head, she thought it would be called. She needed such a commodity for other reasons, despite having eaten and drunk little, but mainly she wanted to see if she could at least wash her hands and face.

    Despite the obviously grand nature of the cabin she was in, she saw only the one door she¡¯d entered through, so she¡¯d have to venture out to find what she needed. The challenge she¡¯d set herself turned out to not be much of one. Once outside, the very first door she poked her head through revealed the wet dream of at least one bathroom designer somewhere. Pale gold tiles covered the floor and went halfway up the walls, prevented the wood from absorbing damp and mold and ick. A structure of...ceramic? Fired clay? and brass was recognizable as a toilet. There was even a sink, though no mirror. A pull cord dangling from above flushed both the toilet and drained the sink, using finite measurements of water. The ship had to have a limited supply of fresh water, she assumed.

    Then again, a mad man with a box of dials strapped to a fork had fixed her ears, so who knew if they had some sort of magic water filtration?

    She did what she could with just water and privacy, wishing desperately for a proper shower, or at least toothpaste -not even the brush! just the paste!- before venturing back out again.

    Lacking information, she set out to find Axion. The sooner they came to an understanding of what was going to happen, the sooner she could be on her way home. If these people jumped to alternate worlds all the time, it couldn¡¯t be difficult to find hers. Sid and his goons had found it, after all. Multiple times, if intuition served her. Wouldn¡¯t there be some sort of Alternate Dimension Rolodex?

    There were only four doors in the hall. Two were the master cabin and the water room, one was storage of some sort, and the fourth exposed another set of steps. She followed them down, and found another hall, this one extending what had to be the length of the ship. At the far end, there was no door, just a widening of the hall into a brightly lit dining room of some sort. She spied the ends of long tables and benches, enclosed lamps swinging gently overhead. She could hear the murmur of casual conversations, and spotted the shoulders of the speakers, just barely visible. They were short, bulky men wearing rough clothes with suspenders, their trousers rolled up to the knees and secured with narrow ropes. Their feet were bare. She didn¡¯t think Axion was among them.

    She turned and went the other way down the hall, stopping at the very end. She¡¯d start here, and work her way down. She reached for the ornate brass door handle, and pushed the door open.

    Warm light greeted her, a steady illumination that at a glance had no obvious source. It was as if there were no walls, no ceiling, and sunlight was allowed to come in from all directions. Yet, there were definitely walls -though they were hardly visible behind the endless shelves and cabinets- and a ceiling. Bulkheads and overhead, she reminded herself faintly.

    She stepped into the cabin, her hand leaving the door handle. The door -hatch- swung gently open, stirring the air. As it did so, she saw fine particles in the air shift and swirl, like motes dancing in a sunbeam. Except, she realized with a start, it was these particles that were giving off the light.

    Glowing dust motes.

    They were where the light was coming from. The air itself, for all intents and purposes.

    The light began to fade almost imperceptibly at first, but quicker as more of the motes floated out of the room through the open door.

    ¡°Ah, yes, that¡¯s one of the parameters I am still working on.¡± The voice was unfamiliar, since he hadn¡¯t spoken the last time she¡¯d seen him, but somehow Karlene wasn¡¯t surprised when she turned and saw cotton-candy man. Except his hair wasn¡¯t dual tone anymore, but a shocking shade of virulent orange. He grinned, sheepishly, even as he motioned urgently at the door.

    ¡°You¡¯re letting the light out, dear.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± She shut the door, and the light stopped dimming. She looked back at him, her surprise under control. She gestured to his head. ¡°Nice change, though I think I preferred the pastels.¡±

    The man beamed at her. ¡°Truly? It¡¯s one of my pet projects, you know, hair that changes color on its own. Imagine! So much time and effort is spent to keep one¡¯s hair current. Wouldn¡¯t it be nice for the average folk to be able to do it on their own? With just hardly a thought for it!¡± He reached up and pulled a random strand down where he could see it, making himself cross eyed in the process. ¡°The color is the issue, of course. Two at once is considered the minimum, but jewel tones is the current fashion. I can get the dual colors, of course, but they¡¯re never bright enough. Now, if I stick to one color, vibrancy is no issue, as you can see, but it¡¯s still just one color and¡­¡± His eyes uncrossed and he looked past the strand of carrot orange in his fingers to blink at her.

    ¡°How are your ears?¡± He asked abruptly. She reached up a hand to rub at one.

    ¡°Fine, thanks,¡± she said. They really were. Not even sore anymore. He beamed at her again.

    ¡°Marvelous! That was another project of mine, of course. Just a prototype, but glad to see it worked. Might I quiz you on it? Perhaps run a few tests?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Wonderful! Just over here¡­¡± He trailed off as he moved away, weaving between tables that were bolted in place and laden with what looked like a mad scientist¡¯s lab, all wrought in glass, and crystal, and all sorts of things that she was pretty sure were a bad idea to have on a ship. Granted, they all looked secured in some way, all the shelves on the walls had lips on them to keep things from sliding off, and all the cabinets had latches. Still¡­

    Something about her observations niggled at her. When she followed him to the back of the room and spotted a forlorn looking chaise lounge beside a small end table, it clicked together.

    ¡°Are you...a doctor, of some kind?¡±

    ¡°Of some kind, most definitely,¡± he agreed, gesturing to the lounge as he sat in a plush armchair next to it. He¡¯d grabbed a notebook along the way, along with a pen. She half expected to see quill feathers and a bottle of ink. He grinned at her when she sat.

    ¡°Call me Dox.¡±

    She smiled back, a genuine smile. ¡°Karlene.¡±

    ¡°Karlene? Hm, don¡¯t like that.¡±

    She blinked at him, jaw dropping open a smidge. She made a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh, not sure how to respond. ¡°I¡¯m...sorry?¡±

    He flapped a hand at her, sending his pen flying. He didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Not your fault, not your fault. You were hardly there for the choosing. Aira, I think, would have been better. My daughter¡¯s name, you know.¡± He had begun patting his long, stained jacket with its many pockets stuffed full of anonymous things. ¡°I know I just had a pen¡­¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Karlene leaned down to where the pen had come to a stop by her foot. She handed it to him, deciding not to comment on her impending re-naming. It was a pretty enough name, but aside from liking her own just fine, his words about it belong to his daughter, past tense, made her bite her tongue.

    ¡°Ah, thank you, Aira.¡± He winked at her, and she wasn¡¯t sure if maybe he actually now thought that was her name or if he was teasing. She gave a hesitant smile in return.

    ¡°Now then,¡± he went on, crossing one leg over the other and propping his notepad on one knee. ¡°How did you injure your ears in the first place?¡±

    ¡°An exploding stone wall right next to me,¡± she answered. He nodded and scribbled something in his book.

    She got an idea.

    ¡°My turn,¡± she said. ¡°How do you keep track of the different worlds that, ah, the keyholes and gates go to?¡±

    Dox blinked at her, likely trying to recall when he¡¯d agreed to a give-and-take arrangement. She hoped his scatterbrained mannerisms meant he¡¯d either think he¡¯d merely forgotten and just go with it, or not care, and just go with it. One or the other must have been the case, because he didn¡¯t try to deflect.

    ¡°Average travelers don¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°The Library of Realms does. Now, how close was that explosion, exactly?¡±

    ¡°About as far from me as you are now. Where is the Library of Realms? Can anyone get inside?¡±

    ¡°Dear me, are libraries private where you¡¯re from? Terrible. Yes, anyone may enter, anyone may request travel charters. Were your ears your only injury?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯ve got some pretty spectacular bruising. Want to see? You didn¡¯t answer my other question.¡±

    ¡°One answer for one question, I think that¡¯s fair. And yes, I¡¯d like to see. I have a balm here somewhere¡­¡± He stood, put down his book, and began rummaging in a drawer nearby. ¡°The Library of Realms is where all the grand Libraries are, in Cloudhold.¡±

    ¡°And Cloudhold is where?¡±

    ¡°At Enoi¡¯s imperial capital, of course.¡± Despite his ¡®of course,¡¯ Dox didn¡¯t seem to find her questions odd, and he didn¡¯t ask why she didn¡¯t seem to know things that warranted an ¡®of course.¡¯ So, she ventured further.

    ¡°Why do you need Dropling blood to access these, ah, keyholes?¡±

    Dox made a triumphant noise as he pulled a small crystal container the size of his palm from the millionth drawer he¡¯d rifled through.

    ¡°That¡¯s an extra question, again.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said. She actually thought she snuck a third in there. ¡°What was your last question?¡±

    ¡°Have you ever injured your ears before?¡±

    ¡°Does swimmers ear count? No, not really.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that explains it¡­¡± He handed her the crystal bottle and picked up his book, scribbling in it while he sat back down. ¡°What is swimmers ear? And Dropling blood is needed because Enochian blood is too precious to waste for the travel of others, so some thousand years or so ago some brilliant bloke came up with the idea of using their bastards instead.¡±

    ¡°Swimmers ear is¡­ Wait. Bastards?¡±

    ¡°Yes, bastards. Half-blooded offspring of the Enochians. Was it your mother or your father who gave you your Enochian half?¡±

    ¡°I¡­. Neither.¡± Karlene¡¯s head swam.

    Dox scoffed. ¡°Well that¡¯s hardly possible.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    ¡°No matter, many Droplings don¡¯t know their parentage. You were explaining this ¡®swimmers ear?¡¯¡±

    Karlene tucked away her knew info for later examination. If she let herself get too bogged down by what Dox¡¯s words might mean, she¡¯d be unable to focus enough to learn anything else useful.

    They talked as much about everything as they did anything. Karlene found herself laughing, though half the time Dox had no idea what had her in stitches. Which, of course, made it all the more amusing and set her off again.

    She found out that the similarities between his name, ¡®Dox,¡¯ and ¡®Doc¡¯ was coincidence and not a reference to his profession. It was actually his name, or at least an abbreviation; he¡¯d waved away requests for the full version.

    ¡°It¡¯s a horrible name,¡± he told her. ¡°Not right at all. I¡¯ll never understand it, the habit of naming things before you¡¯ve even seen or interacted with it. Better to meet the child first, then name it.¡±

    The light began fading again, soon after they¡¯d begun talking, though Dox didn¡¯t notice until he stood to fetch something related to their conversation and nearly tripped.

    ¡°Ah, the luminator needs refilling¡­¡±

    ¡°The luminator? That the thing putting light into the air?¡± She asked, smiling. He¡¯d told her about too many of his projects during their conversation for her to ever remember them all, even if she¡¯d understood what he¡¯d said they were supposed to do.

    ¡°Of course, of course. Imagine! Not needing to meddle with bulbs or gas or oil or wax or¡­¡± His voice became too muffled to understand as he buried his head in the depths of a cabinet, emerging a moment later with a glowing canister. He brought it to one of the many contraptions strapped to one of the tables, a mound of brass tubes and ornate dials. He pressed a button somewhere, and with a click and hiss another canister, this one dark, was ejected. Dox removed it and replaced it with the glowing one. A moment later, a geyser of faintly glowing particles was puffed up into the air. It kept puffing until the room was filled with a steady, warm glow once again.

    ¡°Much better,¡± he said,  beaming at the thing. Then his face fell. ¡°Still need to figure out how to keep the particles from leaving the room every time a door or window is opened¡­ Hmm¡­ I wonder¡­¡±

    It was as if she¡¯d been forgotten, or had never even entered the room. Amused rather than offended, she watched him putter around the ¡®luminator¡¯ with no less than three tools in his hands at any given point. He never once looked in her direction. Some, she knew, would classify this man as insane and recommend daily doses of a pharmacy¡¯s worth of pills. To her, he was harmless and sweet. And clearly a genius, even if half the things he¡¯d told her about didn¡¯t yet exist or work right, foreign physics notwithstanding.

    A rumble from her stomach made it impossible to continue denying that she hadn¡¯t eaten since¡­ She couldn¡¯t remember, actually. She couldn¡¯t recall if she¡¯d actually eaten any of the moldy bread Sid had brought the morning after Diom¡¯s interrogations. How long ago had that been? Only this morning?

    Karlene left Dox to his tinkering, being careful to slip out of the room as quickly as she could, letting as few as possible of the luminator particles out. There was still a slight puff of golden light that managed to escape, swirling around her feet as she pulled the door shut. They danced in the invisible gusts of air before settling on the floor. It looked like someone had tossed a handful of golden glitter at her feet.

    If nothing else, she thought, she had to admit there were many strange things about this world that were undeniably beautiful.

    She glanced up right as a pair of sailors, not the same one¡¯s she¡¯d seen earlier, made their way down the stairs, never looking back her direction as they headed to the other end of the corridor. They greeted someone inside, loudly, patting their bellies. The scent of something cooking hit her, then, and she found herself following them.

    It was the largest space she¡¯d seen on the ship by far, easily three times the size of Dox¡¯s lab. Long trestle tables occupied most of it, with barely enough space between the benches to sidle your way down the length of the tables. The end of the room nearest the entryway -it had no true door, or hatch- was occupied by a long, low bar crowded with stools. Behind it, visible through a large hatch, was a small kitchen. A galley, she corrected herself.  The wooden bulkheads to either side of the hatchway leading to the galley were filled with shelves and cabinets like in Dox¡¯s lab, though these were filled with bottles of varying sizes rather than books and tools. Most of them were without labels, but she knew the sight of whiskey and gin when she saw it.

    Her stomach twisted, and she thought that if she hadn¡¯t been so nauseatingly hungry, she might have gone right for one of those bottles. God knew, if she¡¯d ever needed a drink, it was now.

    Laid out on the bar was a basket of hard-looking bread rolls, stacks of empty mugs, wooden bowls, and a tray of tin spoons. When she approached, she saw a large hole was cut into the surface of the bar, covered by a lid. She lifted it, and just like at a buffet there was a cauldron of stew set into the hole, it¡¯s rim level with the bar. Without hesitating she grabbed a bowl and filled it. A fingernail tapped against one of the rolls confirmed it would need a few hours soaking in acid to soften it, so she passed them up.

    She found herself a seat in the far corner, ignoring how the sailors had been eyeing her since she¡¯d walked in. The stew smelled too good to pay attention to much else. Meat and potatoes in a thick gravy, bits of carrot and peas and onions bringing color to the otherwise monotone meal. It could have been grey gruel for all she cared; she was starving, and it was delicious. Or maybe it was delicious because she was starving? Either way, she polished off every bite and was seriously considered helping herself to seconds when a shadow stretched over where she was sitting. She looked up at one of the sailors she¡¯d followed, and suddenly the stew was not settling so well.

    The man was large, clearly due to heavy labor rather than heavy eating. He had three gold hoops in one ear, and two in the other. He eyed her curiously, and openly, with absolutely no indication that what he was doing was rude or, more notably, downright creepy. He worked one hand over a few days¡¯ worth of stubble, scratching at the underside of his chin while he examined every inch of her, particularly any skin that was visible.

    ¡°Huh,¡± he said eventually. ¡°You musta pissed someone off real bad, dropling, for them to take back their mark.¡± He shrugged, then reached for her. ¡°Oh well. No matter to me ¡®cept that it¡¯s my gain.¡± He winked at her, as if they were in on a joke together, and grabbed at her arm and pulled her out of her seat. Too stunned to pull away, heart pounding, Karlene was dragged along down the length of the table to where the other two sailors were sitting. Without ceremony or introduction, her sailor sat back down and pulled her roughly onto his lap. He resumed his conversation with the other two while reaching for his spoon with one hand and occupying the other with finding the hem of her shirt and-

    Finally jolted out of her stupor, she leaped free as if scalded. She backed away, breathing hard, knowing she absolutely did not want the explanation she¡¯d been working her way up to demanding before that beefy paw had begun wandering.

    The three sailors stared at her, one of them amused, the other two -including Mr. Wanderpaw- looked perplexed. She didn¡¯t know or care why they seemed confused by her refusal to be felt up by a stranger, she just kept backing away. Until she hit something. Something hard, and warm. Startled, she sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as she whirled around at the same time something grabbed at her arm. She made to swing, feeling panic build, but her fist was caught in a hand made of iron.

    ¡°Sir!¡± The scrapping of wood on wood told her that, behind her, the sailors were standing. It was Axion holding her fist in one hand, her opposite upper arm in his other. He looked past her, at the sailors, and gave a perfunctory nod before hauling her out of the mess, not speaking a word the entire time she was dragged back to the wrecked-picasso cabin they¡¯d slept in.

    He pushed her inside and shut the hatch behind them.

    ¡°I think, and I could be mistaken, but I do think I told you not to leave this room without me.¡± He didn¡¯t seem angry, she noted, just perplexed. Like the men downstairs. She tossed up her hands.

    ¡°I needed the bathroom!¡± She went and plopped down on the bed. ¡°Then I got to talking to Dox, then I was hungry. What do you want me to say? Did you expect me to stay in this room and wet myself and starve?¡±

    He tilted his head at her, eyebrow raised. ¡°A resounding no to the first, and as for the second, I brought you food hours ago. I knocked, in case¡­.well, in case. When you didn¡¯t answer I assumed you still slept. So I left.¡±

    In all honesty, she hadn¡¯t recalled him telling her not to leave until he¡¯d mentioned it. It wasn¡¯t like her to be forgetful, but that was under normal circumstances. She set her jaw, preparing to apologize since that was what adults did when they made trouble for people who had done nothing to earn that trouble. Before she could, however, Axion waved away whatever she¡¯d been about to say with an imperious gesture that had her swallowing the apology.

    ¡°No matter,¡± he said. ¡°Leontis wants to see you.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°What does blondie want with me? Pretty sure I¡¯ve been written off as less than human and therefore beneath his angelic notice.¡±

    ¡°If not for your association with me, you would be,¡± he replied, his tone serious. ¡°Do not forget that. Come on.¡± And he turned, clearly expecting her to follow. She did, after only a moment¡¯s apprehension. Something, some emotion, sat in her gut like a stone made out of something vile, and it took her a moment to figure out what it was. Not only had those men clearly thought there was nothing wrong with expecting her to go along with being molested, they also hadn¡¯t seemed to fear reprisal. And they¡¯d been right; Axion himself didn¡¯t seem perturbed.

    A shiver of unease stroked a finger down her spine, and she swallowed back the suddenly ill feeling building at the back of her throat. She¡¯d begun to think of Axion as a friend, shared trauma aside, or at least someone that was on her side. She thought, maybe, she needed to revise that.

 Chapter Fourteen - From Inkless to Inked

    <h1>-Chapter Fourteen-</h1>

    Leontis was waiting for them on deck beneath a silk canopy that had been set up to shade another set of folding furniture. There were only two chairs. To her surprise, she was ushered into one, while Axion took up a stance behind and to the right of Leontis. It looked...almost ceremonial. Only the casualness behind every move both men made told her it wasn¡¯t. Not quite.

    ¡°Have you eaten?¡± Leontis asked her. Behind him, Axion hid a laugh as a cough, likely recalling extracting her from the knot of handsy sailors.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, feeling her cheeks flush. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    He nodded, then pushed something on the table closer to her. It was a stack of papers, covered in writing that made her eyes cross trying to read it. It looked like it should have resembled normal English lettering¡­ Except it didn¡¯t. At all. She blinked at it, trying to focus on just the first word. She picked up the contract -since that was obviously what it was- and squinted at the elegant black markings. She almost thought¡­

    Someone, either Axion or Leontis, snorted. She glanced up sharply, glaring. Axion was looking pained. Leontis looked amused, one perfect corner of those perfect lips tilted up. She felt her face flush a deeper shade of embarrassment. They thought she couldn¡¯t read. Her hand holding the contract twitched, and it was a measure of her willpower that she didn¡¯t crumple the thick paper.

    When she looked back at the contract a second time, however, the words had changed. She blinked at them, surprise overriding her anger.

    ¡°Here,¡± Axion said, coming around to stand by her. ¡°I should have realized you wouldn¡¯t be able to-¡±

    ¡°¡®In this, the fourteenth year of the reign of Hierarch Athrandes Dominicus, on the fortieth day of the third season, a Tal¡¯hoz of Odriax, called Karlene, is granted the retention of her Als¡¯canil. By the authority of Leonth-Leonthadarias...¡¯¡± Oh, her tongue tripped beautifully over that one. ¡°¡®Prince of Odriax. Let no citizen or denizen of Enoi, neither Man nor Enochian, impede this lawfull decree.¡¯¡± At the bottom were two signatures, each paired with a rune-like glyph that glittered.

    She put down the paper, not a contract she realized now, and raised an eyebrow at Leontis. ¡°Leonthadarias, huh? Bit of a mouthful.¡± She very deliberately did not think or speak the ¡®prince¡¯ part. She had enough to dwell on.

    Axion was still standing next to her. The hand he¡¯d held out initially to take the decree from her was now resting on the back of her seat. She glanced up at him, smirking despite her indignation at the letter¡¯s contents. ¡°Oh, you thought I was too stupid to know how to read?¡±

    Axion¡¯s lips quirked down at her. ¡°No, I had thought your being supposedly from another world might indicate linguistic differences. Apparently, I was wrong.¡± His look said this display of hers had damaged the credibility she¡¯d gained with him.

    With a sinking feeling, she realized he was right to doubt. The chances of two different worlds using not only the same spoken language, but the same alphabet? The same pronunciation? She felt her jaw tighten, and her breathing became shallower. She wasn¡¯t angry, precisely; she understood Axion¡¯s doubt. She was frustrated, and regretful. It was her pride that had led her to not questioning the paper¡¯s sudden self-translation, and if she had swallowed it then she might not have just lost her only supporter.

    ¡°Thank you for this,¡± she made herself say to Leontis. The words were bitter. A lifetime of being raised in a society with an abundance of personal freedom and entitlement made any indication to the contrary abrasive. Reality, however hard to swallow, had invaded her little bubble of existence and told her in no uncertain terms that she was probably going to need this little scrap of ink and paper if she wanted to get home, or even to just stay free. Maybe not now, but eventually. She could feel it.

    ¡°My Squire gave you certain assurances in exchange for your aide, and while he was not exactly in a position to promise such things, I would not allow my friend to make himself a liar.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± Axion told her. He gestured, and from seemingly nowhere a young man approached. She knew what he was immediately by his drab, sack-like tunic and loose trousers, and his dull hair... His downcast face held no indication of his mood, or why he was here. She felt apprehensive, and wanted to grab at that letter, as if it would shield her from ever sharing this man¡¯s fate.

    ¡°Show her,¡± Leontis commanded, and the boy tugged down the neckline of his red-belted tunic. The low-hanging neckline had already been showing half of it, but now all of it was revealed; a tattoo. A tattoo in the same glittering style as the sigils on her letter, bolder perhaps and more artful, but the same. It specifically matched the sigil below Leontis¡¯ name.

    ¡°I cannot free what was not mine to begin with,¡± Leontis said casually. He tapped the paper. ¡°This is only binding if you were mine to unbind in the first place.¡±

    Faintly, she recalled that droplings were owned by either the King or the households of the members of some kind of Council. So was he ¡®prince¡¯ as in, son of the King, or ¡®prince¡¯ as in some other familial or political branch? The question was overshadowed by the dawning realization of what Leontis was telling her.

    Horror spread through Karlene. He wanted to brand her?

    ¡°There is a reason he gave you the letter first, Karlene,¡± Axion said, and despite whatever he thought of her after her little reading display, his voice was gentle. ¡°You having it in your hand makes the marking symbolic only. And it does not have to be on your chest, just somewhere visible.¡±

    The man in the galley, she realized. That was what he¡¯d been looking for. A mark to show who...who...owned her. Her blood. Seeing none, he¡¯d decided she was up for grabs. Even without the red belt and the silver ear charm, he¡¯d known her for a dropling. What had Axion said? Her coloring, her features gave her away more than those discardable trinkets ever could. She thought back to the people she¡¯d seen in Pyroxis, and her gut sank like a stone. All had been dark haired, dark eyed. Only the winged people and the Droplings had fair hair and eyes.

    Without this paper, she¡¯d never be able to show her face on Enoi without trouble.

    With a will, she slowed her racing heart, got a handle on her suddenly rapid breathing. She loosened her fists, where they¡¯d clenched in her lap, and smoothed them over her dirty jeans. She looked at the letter, licked her lips. For all she knew, this was one giant scheme to¡­

    No, she thought. If she started seeing plots in every corner, she¡¯d stop seeing anything else. There was caution, and there was paranoia.

    She looked at Leontis. Not Axion, this time. ¡°Promise me,¡± she said, meeting his eyes.

    He raised an eyebrow at her. She firmed her voice, her will. ¡°Promise me this isn¡¯t a trick, that you really mean to let me go once we¡¯re...wherever we are.¡±

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d want help getting home,¡± Axion said. She didn¡¯t look at him when she replied.

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me,¡± she said flatly. ¡°At least, not enough. I won¡¯t expect you to help me.¡±

    Besides, she¡¯d gotten a new lead from Dox; the Library of Realms, in Cloudhold. She could ask to be taken there.

    Leontis looked up, away from her, to Axion standing over her shoulder. She knew without looking that Axion was returning the look, that a silent exchange was happening.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Leontis looked back at her and said, ¡°My letter and my seal are not enough?¡±

    ¡°I want your promise, from you.¡± She said, stubbornly. One corner of Leontis¡¯ lip twitched, and she could see there was a part of him that couldn¡¯t quite believe he was having this conversation. If she found herself negotiating with the steering wheel of a city bus, she might feel a little incredulous, too, she supposed.

    ¡°You have my word,¡± he said at last. ¡°That this is no trick. The marking is just to make my letter legal. Once we arrive in Hesteriox you will be given a sum of currency and sent on your way. All debt between us will be washed.¡± His gaze intensified. ¡°And your interactions with us will never be referenced. Ever.¡±

    Karlene blinked. Debt? That prickly, icy feeling was back, and she nodded numbly. Leontis wasted no time signalling to the other ¡®tal¡¯hoz¡¯ -apparently the technical term for what she was- to lead her away.

    ¡°I¡¯ll join you later,¡± Axion told her quietly.

    ¡°Wait!¡± She said, a few puzzle pieces clicking into place. She licked her lips nervously, looking at Leontis and Axion as they gave her inquisitive looks.

    ¡°Back...back at the fort,¡± she said, clearing her throat. ¡°You wanted to know more about...about those two families. Their involvement. Astix and Izihal.¡±

    Axion¡¯s gaze darkened. For a moment, if she¡¯d been asked which of the two men she was between was the more dangerous, she would not have named Leontis.

    The winged prince looked at his squire. ¡°You did not mention this.¡±

    ¡°We have not been among the most trusthworthy of souls,¡± Axion replied in a low murmur.

    Leontis gave a noncommital grunt, then turned to Karlene again. ¡°Very well. You already have my personal guarantee and a writ of citizenship. What else would you have?¡±

    ¡°Cloudhold,¡± she said in a rush. ¡°I want to be taken to Cloudhold, and that ¡®sum of currency¡¯ needs to be enough to tide me over at least six months. Long enough for me to figure out how to get home.¡±

    Axion¡¯s dark expression shifted, slightly, and he grinned. Leontis raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Simple enough,¡± he said. ¡°As that is already where we are headed.¡±

    Karlene blinked. Shit.

    ¡°We...are?¡±

    Axion came to take her arm, again, and pull her away to where the tattooed dropling waited for her by the hatch. In her ear he said, non too quietly, ¡°Cloudhold is an unofficial name. It¡¯s real name is Hesteriox.¡±

    Karlene groaned. Hesteriox, the city Leontis had already told her they were going to.

    ¡°Cheer up,¡± Axion said. ¡°At least you re-convinced me you¡¯re not from here, after all. No real Enoivian one would be dumb enough to make that mistake.¡±

    ¡°Watch me,¡± she mumbled.

    It could have been worse, she told herself as she followed the tattooed dropling belowdeck.

    ¡°Did...did it hurt? When you got yours?¡± She asked the quite man she was following. She¡¯d heard tattoos hurt, a combination of cigarette burns and cat scratches.

    The dropling looked at her, and blinked. He hadn¡¯t looked quite as lifeless as the drudges at Diom¡¯s fort, but maybe this one was just better fed and not beaten regularly.

    ¡°Do, ah...do you still have your...your last drop? Your Als¡¯canil?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± was the brief reply.

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re just naturally quiet and grumpy, got it.¡±

    The dropling didn¡¯t reply. Hadn¡¯t Sid said that every time a drop is taken, it took something from the Dropling? So even if someone hadn¡¯t had their last drop taken, the longer they were used as a battery, the less themselves they became.

    Karlene regretted her flippant remark, but could not think of anything to say to make up for it before she was deposited with Dox, who apparently would be doing the tattooing.

    ¡°Well, I suppose this is one way to sort it out,¡± Dox said when she explained why she was there. He did not sound pleased, but he invited her to sit backwards on a leather cushioned chair.

    ¡°Pick a spot,¡± he told her. She already had; the back of her shoulder. With her tank top, it would be visible, but easily hidden with clothing or a new tattoo of her own selection once she was home.

    Karlene pulled down the strap of her top while Dox gathered his implements, muttering to himself. She watched long enough to make sure he sterilized everything, then buried her face in her arms that were crossed along the back of the chair in front of her.

    She waited for pain, but the first touch of the needles felt more like a feather¡¯s touch, if the feather were first dipped in IcyHot. Dox¡¯s hands were gentle on her shoulder as he guided the long brass instrument along the skin of her left shoulder blade, it¡¯s ink cartridge a thing of luminescence-filled glass. He hummed as he worked, and Karlene tried to fight down the nauseating feeling of making a huge, monumental mistake. It was a fight not to clutch the freedom-guaranteeing letter in her hand and crumple the pristine paper.

    ¡°Not too big,¡± she said, trying not to move so much as a hair. She wanted to be able to cover it with something of her choosing when she got home.

    Dox chuckled, a warm sound that did more than it should have to ease the frantic butterflies in her middle. ¡°Bit late to determine size,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m nearly finished.¡±

    ¡°So quick?¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡±

    There was a mirror in front of her, though that was happenstance. She glanced up at her reflection. Her sink-bath earlier had washed away the worst of the grime, but she still definitely looked like someone who hadn¡¯t seen a shower in longer than socially acceptable. Her dull hair hung limply, framing a face full of shadows. There were circles under her eyes, and her clothes might need to bypass a wash and go straight to burning.

    But she wasn¡¯t looking at all that; she was looking at the now ordinary white-blonde head hovering over her left shoulder, tattoo¡¯ing tool in hand, his full attention narrowed to a four-inch patch on the back of her shoulder. Long, elegant fingers glided across her shoulder, framing his workspace. She had to repress a shiver as two of those fingers swiped at at errant drip of glittering ink.

    She knew, abruptly, that at that moment nothing existed for him, nothing but that patch of her skin. It was, somehow, a realization that alleviated some of the pressure in her skull.

    ¡°There,¡± he said suddenly, stepping back. ¡°Done.¡±

    He handed her a hand mirror he¡¯d produced from somewhere, and she stood to go take a better look. Using the two mirrors, she examined his work and admitted that at least it was pretty. While it¡¯s base color was white, the ink had a shimmering, opalescent quality she¡¯d never seen before, and would probably never see again once she was back home.

    The main part of the design reminded her of the curving black marks found on the main body of a cello or violin, ¡®F Holes¡¯ she thought they were called. The space between them was filled with runic markings made with exaggerated strokes, the whole thing encased in a circle. She reached a tentative hand across her body and over her shoulder, her fingers just brushing the edge of the circle. There was no pain. No inflammation, no redness, no blood. Her fingers encountered nothing but smooth, healthy skin.

    ¡°Amazing,¡± she breathed, impressed despite everything.

    In the mirror, Dox¡¯s reflection beamed at her.

    ¡°I¡¯m good with artwork, and I¡¯ve steady fingers,¡± he said, sounding merely truthful. She turned away from the mirror and smiled at him. Whatever else was going on, she didn¡¯t blame him for any of it.

    She sighed, and moved to put her letter in her back pocket. Dox rose and waved a hand at her, at her hand moving to her jeans. Somehow, without him actually speaking, she managed to guess that he wanted her to stop. She pulled the paper back out of her pocket, and waited while he went to one of the many desks and, after rummaging around for a moment, returned with a fold of leather, wrapped with a cord.

    ¡°To protect it,¡± he said. He then took the paper, and put it carefully inside the protective, waterproof folds of waxed cloth inside. ¡°Don¡¯t want to lose this.¡± He grinned at her as he handed it back. ¡°Would hate to see my...well, would be a shame to see that mark used against you. Actually used, I mean, not just for the decorative purposes it¡¯s meant for now, that is.¡±

    The leather fold was still narrow enough to fit in her back pocket, and she gave him a grateful smile as she put it away.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. She glanced at a shelf behind her, at the objects on it she¡¯d been staring at while Dox worked. She jerked her head towards them.

    ¡°I have a sneaky suspicion that wherever they put me until we arrive, I won¡¯t be allowed to leave it much. Could I borrow some of those books?¡±

    Both white-blonde eyebrows flew up, disappearing behind the fringe of pale hair that fell over his forehead in untidy waves.

    ¡°Borrow...my books?¡± He sounded incredulous. Amused.

    ¡°Er,¡± Karlene said eloquently. ¡°Yes? In case I get bored.¡±

    ¡°Ah, boredom,¡± Dox said, as if the word had completely changed things. ¡°I hate boredom, myself.¡± He gestured to the lab and winked at her. ¡°Since they wouldn¡¯t be leaving the ship, and I could find you easily enough¡­ Yes. I suppose you may.¡± He sounded surprised at his own acquiescence. Karlene hesitated. She needed those books, but¡­

    ¡°If it¡¯s that big a deal, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°No, no no,¡± he said, suddenly moving past her towards the shelves. ¡°Which ones caught your eye? Marlov¡¯s Travels and Observations? Ashieriz Interplanar Theories? Or, A Study of Gates and their Keys? These are copies, of course, my originals are all¡­¡± He trailed off as he darted away from the shelves again, stopping at a cabinet bolted to the hull. He threw open the doors and began tossing its contents onto the floor until he found what he was looking for. He returned to the books with a canvas satchel with leather straps, not unlike the messenger bag Karlene had purchased not so long ago in preparation for the new college year.

    Dox stopped at the shelf and looked at her, pointedly. She realized she¡¯d never answered him.

    ¡°All the ones to do with the, uh, keyholes and gates,¡± she said, trying to remember the terms. ¡°And uh, if there¡¯s any on droplings. Tal¡¯hozes.¡±

    ¡°Tal¡¯hozi,¡± he corrected, sounding absent minded as he proceeded to select volumes seemingly at random, since she didn¡¯t think he was actually reading their titles. Could he seriously just know where every single one was? She had trouble remembering where her shoes ended up when she got home.

    Dox moved beyond the one shelf, picking out books that were both small and large, thin and thick, until the bag was bulging. Now that he¡¯d decided to let some of his -apparently- precious books out of his sight, he seemed determined to pack her off with half his library. When he finally handed her the bag, it was nearly too heavy to lift and clearly ready to burst at the seams.

    ¡°I, er, don¡¯t know how much time I¡¯ll have to get through all of these,¡± she confessed, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

    ¡°Four days,¡± he said. ¡°Ten hours. The minutes will depend on how efficient the docking crew is. Will be. Hmmm¡­¡± Something about discussing their arrival apparently didn¡¯t sit well with him, since his face dimmed considerably. A frown replaced the absent minded half-grin that hadn¡¯t left his face since she¡¯d met him. His gaze met hers, suddenly intent and completely void of the haziness his eyes normally held.

    ¡°Read what you can, fast as you can,¡± he said. Then he went to the door, knocked at it, and when the drab dropling who¡¯d brought her entered he said, ¡°We¡¯re finished.¡±

    Just like that, she was summarily kicked out. Least, that was what it felt like it. The dropling took her by her arm, and Dox didn¡¯t even look at her when she was dragged out.

 Chapter Fifteen - From Nothing to Something

    <h1>-Chapter Fifteen-</h1>

    This time, Karlene stayed put in the cabin. Even though she had the shiny new equivalent of a don¡¯t-touch sign, she didn¡¯t feel like running into anyone who would feel the need to search for said sign.

    She spent some time cleaning up the pillows and blankets so she wouldn¡¯t trip, then plopped down in the middle of the giant bed and dumped out the bulging satchel of books.

    As eager as she was to see if there was any useful information in them, once they were spread out in front of her she just stared at their tooled leather covers and gold leaf titles.

    The titles she could read, despite having never learned the language. If she focused, she could recognize that one of the sigils that represented the sound ¡®dee¡¯ wasn¡¯t actually the letter ¡®D¡¯ she knew.

    ¡°Nothing here makes sense,¡± she muttered to herself. Ships and men that flew when they shouldn¡¯t, blood that powered interdimensional voodoo circles...

    No, not voodoo circles; keyholes. She¡¯d need to start using the correct terms for things

    Karlene returned her attention to the books. Even if she didn¡¯t understand how -yet- she recognized a gift horse when she saw one, and resolved to just be grateful she could read the language at all.

    The book closest to her, A Study of Gateways and Their Uses, Vol. 1, by Estiel Adoxacles, looked the smallest, so she started with that one.

    Five pages in, and Karlene realized she was holding a new weapon; not because the knowledge it contained, but because of its lethal levels of asinine superiority. The author was a smart cookie, and he knew it. Had known it? Was he still alive? How old were these books, anyway? Was she reading the equivalent of a medical text from the eighteen hundreds, the kind that would advise about wandering wombs and the risks of blindness associated with masturbation?

    At least the topic itself was interesting. It was like a whole new version of physics. It seemed she¡¯d picked a good book to start with; it was a ¡®droplings and keyholes for dummies¡¯ type, and the first chapter broke down the major components of the runic circles, as Karlene had called them. They were the part of the whole system called keyholes. The blood of a human/enochian hybrid -more commonly referred to as droplings- acted as both the key and the energy needed to turn said key.

    The hole in the fabric between dimensions was referred to as the Gate, or Gateway, and the pathway between Gates -between worlds- was called a Corridor.

    So far so good, the terms made sense and the basics were easy to follow, in a someone-must-have-made-this-up sort of way. Moreso than some other stuff she¡¯d learned in Physics 101, anyway.

    Once she got past the basic breakdowns, however, things got...complicated. Basic descriptions and illustrations that were more artful than explanatory gave way to charts and graphs, signs and sigils she didn¡¯t recognize and that didn¡¯t translate themselves. Through context and inference, she figured these alien symbols were to the science of ¡®corridor travel¡¯ as the eternity and pi signs were to mathematics.

    ¡®People smarter than me,¡¯ Sid had said when referring to who it was that charted the different pathways.

    ¡°Smarter than me, too, apparently,¡± Karlene muttered to herself.

    She had been hoping she¡¯d be able to figure out how to just draw her own keyhole, knick a vein, and send own self home. And while she could do steps A and B from the book¡¯s instructions, it was step C -the important step- that was the question. Without knowing certain things, certain very specific things, any keyhole she drew would be as likely to send her to Pluto, or empty space, or the middle of a star as a nice, safe street corner on Earth.

    Axion found her splayed out on her back, A Study of Gateways and Their Uses, Vol. 1 open to page 234 and laid pages-down over her face, mumbling obscenities to herself.

    ¡°I, too, have often longed to curse the long-winded Master Adoxacles,¡± he said, and the words were mumbled oddly enough to make Karlene tilt her head up. The book slid down off her eyes and nose, and she peered at Axion over the leather edge.

    ¡°Food?¡± she asked in an unabashedly imploring way.

    ¡°Food,¡± Axion confirmed, clearly mocking her monosyllabic inquiry. Still, he was smiling, and that was something. His mumbling had been due to having a large piece of fruit held between his teeth.

    Even though she¡¯d eaten earlier, she was starving again. She supposed it was a side effect of all the running and nearly dying she¡¯d been doing, but she couldn¡¯t recall having been this hungry this often in a while. Axion apparently was of a mind with hers, as the platter he¡¯d brought was piled high.

    ¡°It¡¯s not cridolains or your ¡®monkey bread,¡¯ but this will have to tide us over until we reach the capital.¡±

    ¡°¡®We¡¯ as in, you and your boyfriend? Or, ¡®we¡¯ as in you, your boyfriend, all his slaves and rapey pirates, and me?¡±

    Axion frowned and paused in the middle of the act of laying the platter on the bed.

    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to figure out which part of that to answer first, the correct one would be ¡®where you plan on taking me.¡¯ Or dumping me. Whichever.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°You already know this- Cloudhold.¡±

    Karlene sat up and caught the book as it fell down to her lap, then reached for the platter Axion had set down.

    ¡°Yeah, but where? Capitals are, in my experience, big places. I need to know how to get around.¡±

    Frowning, Axion sat down beside her.

    A memory brushed the surface of her mind. Another time he¡¯d come to sit at her side in a bed, another time a tray of food had been forthcoming. She suppressed a shudder, determined not to think of Diom anymore than she had to, and grabbed a fat grape from the platter to stuff in her mouth. Chewing gave her face something to do other than crying.

    ¡°Leontis already told you,¡± Axion said. He reached for another grape. ¡°You will be given-¡±

    ¡°A sum of currency once we reach...Hysterix? Hesterville?¡±

    ¡°Hesteroix.¡± Axion sighed.

    ¡°Where is that, exactly?¡±

    ¡°The capital.¡±

    ¡°Of?¡±

    ¡°Odriax.¡±

    ¡°Which is?¡±

    ¡°The crowning gem of Enoi.¡±

    ¡°Enoi being the planet?¡±

    ¡°The planet, also the empire.¡±

    ¡°You named your empire the same as the whole planet? Don¡¯t the other nations think that¡¯s a bit...pompous?¡±

    Axion tore of a piece of flaky bread that smelled like a bearclaw dipped in a goddamn rainbow. Karlene grabbed the rest of his loaf. If his highness wanted more, he could have his servants bake it for him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean,¡± he said. ¡°Other nations? There is only the empire, and it¡¯s provinces.¡±

    Karlene stared at him, buttery pastry forgotten. Axion reached over and took it back.

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding. That...doesn¡¯t seem possible. Earth history is crammed full of empires and kingdoms and countries merging and splitting again and again.¡±

    ¡°For as long as history has been recorded, Enoi has always just been¡­ Enoi.¡±

    Karlene didn¡¯t say it out loud, but her red, white, and blue heart firmly believed she was hearing some sort of edited version of history. She was pretty sure there were some totalitarian governments in Earth¡¯s history that had also doctored certain accounts to make it seem as if theirs was the eternal, the true way. She had seen nothing of Enoi to make her think its people, its rulers, were exempt from that kind of hubris.

    ¡°In answer to your real question, you may go wherever you like. We won¡¯t force you to stay with us, and the funds you¡¯ll receive will more than cover the cost of a guide. History teachers too, if you like.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s...nice,¡± she said.

    ¡°Nice? Most tal¡¯hozi sign on to work for the one who granted them their als¡¯canil,¡± Axion told her. ¡°Leontis letting you run off? That would look bad for him.¡±

    ¡°My sorrow abounds,¡± she said flatly. ¡°Look, Axion, it¡¯s not that I¡¯m not grateful for...all of this¡­¡± she gestured limply to the books, the food, the protected letter in its leather wrapping. ¡°But where I come from? I mean specifically, the continent I¡¯m from? Slavery hasn¡¯t been a thing in a long, long time. And it¡¯s still a topic that can get tempers riled, so... so this gratitude you seem to think I¡¯m falling short on? It¡¯s hard for me to feel grateful for being given something that was never anyone else¡¯s to give. I belong to myself, end of story.¡±

    She glanced over at Axion. He wasn¡¯t looking at her, but instead was frowning pensively at the last bit of the bearclaw. Needing something to do to fill the awkward silence following her little rant, she reached over and took it back, again, and popped it directly into her mouth.

    Absently, Axion lifted the hand that had been holding the buttery treat, and brought his thumb to his mouth to capture the crumbs caught in a smear of honey.

    Oh, that¡¯s not fair, Karlene thought, and made herself look away. Serious Social Rights conversations were definitely not the right place for hormones to chime in.

    ¡°I was selected from a collection of specially vetted youths when I was eight,¡± he said suddenly. ¡°Myself, and three others. We were given to the care of the King¡¯s High General, who trained us for the next ten years.¡±

    Oh¡­.kay? Karlene hadn¡¯t meant to instigate a you tell me yours I¡¯ll tell you mine session, but information was information.

    Besides, she¡¯d be lying if she¡¯d told herself she wasn¡¯t acutely curious.

    ¡°The king? The letter called Leontis a prince.¡±

    ¡°King Arcestien is Leontis¡¯s father, yes.¡±

    ¡°Of course he is,¡± Karlene sighed. She made a ¡®continue¡¯ motion when Axion looked at her oddly.

    ¡°When we finished our training, one of us was deemed insufficient, and was sent home. The other three of us were assigned to Leontis as guards. Over a period of five years, we four were to test our compatibility. At the end of those five years, Leontis chose me.¡±

    ¡°And...the other three?¡±

    ¡°Executed, of course.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Karlene shoved away from him on the bed, jostling the platter hard enough to send a few grapes bouncing across the bedspread. ¡°You¡¯re not serious.¡±

    Axion flung his head back, and laughed. The motion did strange things to the column of his throat. Strange things that Karlene, resolutely, did not notice.

    ¡°No, I am not serious. They, too, were sent home to their families for a time, then given respectable positions worthy of their training, elsewhere.¡± He scooped up some of the grapes in a loose fist, and popped one whole into his mouth.

    ¡°Your world is weird,¡± Karlene muttered, and reached for the last fat grape. Seriously, the grapes were the size of plums.

    ¡°If you yourself are a reference, your world would be no less strange to me,¡± he replied.

    ¡°So you believe me? Again? First pizza and hotdogs convince you, now it¡¯s my anti-slavery view?¡±

    ¡°No, this time it was your clear disbelief in a global empire.¡± His lips quirked. ¡°Plus, you didn¡¯t know Cloudhold and Hesteroix are the same place.¡±

    Karlene shrugged. ¡°Global empires are one of those things that only exists in fantasy books and space opera movies. No matter where you go, people are people, and people like to fight.¡±

    ¡°True enough, I suppose,¡± Axion sighed, and stood. He kept his back to her as he looked out the porthole at the blue expanse of the sky.

    ¡°I will help you,¡± he declared.

    Karlene sat up a bit straighter.

    ¡°Huzzah for pizza and Abraham Lincoln,¡± she murmured. Then louder, ¡°Great. What will that entail, exactly? Obviously I can supply the blood, and give me a few days of reading up and I can probably even draw the keyhole, but I still need to know the, uh¡­¡± She reached for the book, flipped to a page. ¡°The cross-spectral designation of the embarkation point¡¯s nexus, and the¡­ Oh, hell, I can¡¯t pronounce half of this. The, uh¡­¡±

    A hand slipped over the page she was trying to read, the wide palm hiding the entire paragraph and then some. He pushed the book down and out of the way.

    ¡°Excuse you, I¡¯m reading that.¡±

    ¡°I will help you get home, Karlene. Finding the exact coordinates of the world your kidnappers took you from will take time, however. There are countless variations of the worlds closest to ours, and not even all of those are catalogued. Diom¡¯s people likely used the less frequented corridors, which means it will take that much longer to find yours.¡±

    ¡°But? I¡¯m hearing a but. Please let there be a but.¡±

    Axion removed his hand, and one corner of his mouth quirked. ¡°But,¡± he said with emphasis. ¡°You and I will be returning with detailed inside knowledge of Diom¡¯s operation and his people. Once they are captured and brought to the Emperor¡¯s justice, I think I could manage to have the information we need be part of a plea deal. For Sid and his ilk, they are low enough on the roster I think it would work.¡±

    ¡°So, that¡¯s great and all, really great¡­¡±

    ¡°But?¡± He said, and the other side of his mouth quirked up, too.

    ¡°But, weren¡¯t you just planning on letting me wander off once we arrived? My ¡®detailed inside knowledge¡¯ can¡¯t be that valuable. I was only with them for a few days, you were with them for a lot longer.¡±

    ¡°Actually, it is that valuable. That¡¯s what I was coming to get from you.¡± From his back pocket, Axion pulled a leather bound notebook. A cloth-wrapped stick of charcoal was attached to it by a leather thong.

    Flying machines and interdimensional travel, but their writing technology still involved burnt, sharpened sticks. Go figure.

    Axion reclined on the bed next to her, flipped to the first blank page, readied his stylus, and raised an eyebrow at her.

    ¡°So,¡± he began. ¡°How did you come to be acquainted with Diom?¡±

 Chapter Sixteen - From Suspicion to Trust

    <h1>-Chapter Sixteen-</h1>

    They nibbled their way through the remaining crumbs on the platter while Karlene told Axion all she knew. It took them awhile, as her narrative split into tangents every time she mentioned something that made no sense to her audience, such as what a parking lot was, and a country club, what golf was¡­

    And cars. Oh, that was fun.

    ¡°You ride around in metal cans powered by miniature, volatile explosions taking place right next to tanks of an accelerant, and you think we¡¯re the strange ones?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and I don¡¯t really have the brain power right now to explain how full grown men flying on wings that couldn¡¯t possible be big or strong enough should not be possible.¡±

    ¡°Surely you have winged creatures in your world?¡±

    ¡°Sure, and the biggest one that can actually use those wings to get airborne could fit in my suitcase.¡± She was actually pretty sure flight capable birds bigger than the condor had lived, but she wasn¡¯t about to tell Axion about dinosuars. Besides, her point remained; those birds, along with the condor, had hollow bones, tiny bodies, and enormously disproportionate wingspans to make the laws of aerodynamics cooperate.

    Diom and Leontis had looked neither hollow-boned, and definitely were not tiny-bodied.

    Would nothing in Enoi ever make sense?

    When she¡¯d caught him up to the point that they¡¯d met, she stopped abruptly. Axion didn¡¯t ask to continue; a nearly imperceptible shiver made his shoulders and arms shift, and she knew he was remembering Diom¡¯s ¡®interview¡¯ as she was. Karlene didn¡¯t bother to hide her own shudder.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s all I need,¡± he said, and as if winter had abruptly descended, the companionable warmth that had seeped into the air vanished. Axion stood up from the bed, and snapped his half-full notebook shut.

    ¡°Dox will probably want to talk to you after I take this to him,¡± he said. ¡°It never seems to matter how many notes I take, he always wants more.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve known him awhile, then?¡± Karlene asked, more as a way to keep the conversation going; the chill memory of Diom still clung to the shadows in the room.

    ¡°Most of my life,¡± Axion said, and a fond smile managed to push back at those shadows.

    ¡°You grew up together?¡±

    Axion laughed. ¡°Together? No. He was already well regarded in the imperial court when I was first brought for training as a child.¡±

    Karlene frowned. Axion took note of her confused expression.

    ¡°Karlene, how old do you think Dox is?¡±

    Wary of the question, she answered, ¡°I¡¯ve never been good with guessing ages. Not much older than us, I guess. Maybe another decade?¡±

    Axion started to laugh. A real laugh, the kind that didn¡¯t just chase away the memory of Diom, but all other bad memories along with it. Even though she herself, or at least something she¡¯d said, was the cause of the laughter, she couldn¡¯t ignore the way the warm sound filled the air and made her relax, just a hair.

    ¡°Karlene, Dox is probably the oldest thing on this ship.¡± He nodded to the pile of books. ¡°He wrote most of those in his youth.¡±

    Karlene stared at the books. The books that, while not exactly puffing to dust at a touch, were definitely not new. And were also not originals; she recalled the 3rd edition stamps on the title pages. Which meant the originals, whenever they¡¯d been written, were even older.

    Karlene scowled, then abruptly brightened.

    She didn¡¯t have to muddle through the books¡¯ weary prose and inexplicable magic calculus on her own! She had their author at her fingertips! She didn¡¯t think Dox would exactly mind talking to her about them, either. He had certainly seemed happy to talk about his projects -or anything else, really. And these tomes were dripping with pride.

    Private magic wormhole tutor, to the rescue!

    Except, when she volunteered to take Axion¡¯s notebook to Dox herself, the now green-haired author took one look at her excited face, the copy of A Study of Gateways and Their Uses, Vol. 1 clutched in her hands, and scowled.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°He told you.¡±

    Karlene came up short in the doorway, just barely remembering to close it behind her to keep the light particles inside. Her smile died on her face as Dox whirled away from her, muttering and grumbling about privacy and promises.

    ¡°Told me...what?¡± She asked, carefully. She¡¯d apparently miscalculated, badly; Dox didn¡¯t seem at all happy that she now knew his name, his full name, was emblazoned in gold leaf across most of the books he¡¯d given her.

    At her question, Dox stopped his muttering and peered back at her over his shoulder, pretty eyes glinting in the odd, soft light of the glowing particulates.

    ¡°He, uh, told me you¡¯d want to read this and then probably ask me more questions,¡± she said, holding out the notebook instead of the textbook. ¡°And then, I had some questions about one of the books you lent me? I, uh, don¡¯t know if you know much about keyholes and corridors, but they were your books, so I figure you¡¯ve at least read them and hopefully you understand them better than me and, uh¡­¡±

    She trailed off. Dox had relaxed noticeably, confirming that his abrupt anxiety had been due to thinking she knew him as the author. She hadn¡¯t outright lied, per say, but she did feel a twinge of guilt at misleading his understanding.

    ¡°My dear girl, I would be happy to help,¡± he said, and all at once he was returned to his chatty, jovial, scatterbrained self.

    They started with the notebook, which let Karlene breath a sigh of relief. After coming so close to stepping on what was apparently a giant emotional landmine, she was perfectly fine with putting A Study of Gateways and Their Uses, Vol. 1 aside for the time being, especially if he was still willing to help her understand it later. It wasn¡¯t like Dox was going anywhere; Axion had confirmed that they didn¡¯t expect to arrive at their destination for another few days at the earliest, winds permitting.

    Dox¡¯s questions were, as Axion had predicted, far more nuanced and detailed than her previous interrogator¡¯s. He focused on very different things. The mention of cars and parking lots and why she¡¯d been alone hadn¡¯t seemed to snag his interest at all, but he did seem very keen on the composition, use, and age of the asphalt of the parking lot where Nix and Sid and Rowe had drawn their makeshift keyhole.

    And it would have had to be makeshift, she knew now from even her brief and mostly confused reading of Dox¡¯s book. Most keyholes were permanent things, like the ones she¡¯d seen at the travel station in the city. Anything else was too unstable; a stray boot toe here, a wind blown leaf there could fudge an important line and then the travelers ended up nowhere. Literally, in the worst cases.

    ¡°This Sid of yours must have had some professional training,¡± Dox murmured. ¡°Useful to know.¡± And then he was off on another line of questioning.

    By the time Dox noticed her yawning, she was ready to drop. The sun outside the portholes had withdrawn its light awhile ago, and her stomach was rumbling. Again.

    Dox stopped talking, abruptly, at the god awful noise emanating from her gut.

    ¡°It¡¯s reminding me that it¡¯s accustomed to three square meals a day,¡± she said, trying not to flush with embarrassment.

    ¡°You come from a land of plenty, then,¡± Dox said. He was tapping the end of a pencil -a real one, not the wrapped charcoal stick Axion had used- against the table. ¡°Where did you say your parents were from, again?¡±

    ¡°From a land down under,¡± she quipped. ¡°Also known as the land where the grass tries to kill you.¡±

    ¡°The...grass?¡±

    Karlene waved away his confusion, not a little bit pleased with being the one to befuddle him for once.

    ¡°Same planet, same language, different continent,¡± she summarized. ¡°And I hadn¡¯t said where my parents were from. Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°No matter,¡± he said dismissively, and stood.

    Apparently, it did matter, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t have asked. This wasn¡¯t the first time her parentage had come up with him, either. She wasn¡¯t an idiot; it was obvious he assumed one or both parents had been from this world. It was the easiest explanation for how her blood could power the keyholes.

    Karlene didn¡¯t focus too closely on the implications of the topic. If Dox was right, it made for some difficult realizations. If he was wrong, it came with even more difficult questions.

    ¡°I think your day has been long enough,¡± Dox said. ¡°I¡¯ll have Olien bring you supper, then you should rest. I¡¯d like to talk with you some more, tomorrow, if you¡¯re willing.¡±

    Once upon a time, Karlene would have taken such a polite request at face value. Here, though, with her new tattoo tingling at her shoulder, she knew it could be considered a grand show of favor that he bothered asking her instead of commanding her as he commanded the dull dropling -the same who had brought her to Dox for her tattoo earlier today- to bring her food and guide her to her bed.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok,¡± she said. ¡°I can get my own. And I think I know my way back to the cabin, by now.¡± The drab dropling, Olien, made her supremely uncomfortable.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you do,¡± Dox said, not unkindly. ¡°But you didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be given the prince¡¯s cabin for your personal use during the voyage, did you?¡±

    Karlene¡¯s mouth opened, then shut. She felt a flush on her cheeks. Actually, she had assumed exactly that. Belatedly, she recalled Leontis¡¯ insistence that Axion take his cabin to rest when they¡¯d first arrived on board.

    ¡°In that case, show the way,¡± she said, and followed Olien from Dox¡¯s lab.

    ¡°I will collect your things from his lordship¡¯s cabin while you dine,¡± Olien told her when they reached the mess hall. He gave a slight bow, a motion that was made awkward when he aborted it halfway through, as if only just recalling she was no higher than he on the grand social ladder of Enoi.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said, and made her way to the soup bar. Instead of the giant pots of bubbling stew and piles of bowls, however, there was platters of fried shrimp, steamed vegetables, split loaves of bread the size of her hand.

    Well, it wasn¡¯t a burger station, but a good, normal po¡¯ boy sandwich sounded just fine.

    She piled a plate full, conscious that despite Axion¡¯s words she had no real guarantees of when her next meal would happen, and turned to look for a seat.

    ¡°Look who¡¯s back!¡± A cheerful voice crowed. Karlene felt dread claw at her insides, and she ignored the voice as it called to her. She¡¯d spotted an empty stretch of bench at the far end of the hall, and she made a beeline for it.

    A large, beefy hand covered in calluses landed on her left shoulder from behind.

    ¡°And hey, look what you¡¯ve got, now!¡± She felt the mammoth sized thumb land on her new tattoo, and while it wasn¡¯t painful, it was sensitive. She jumped and twisted out of Mr Handsy¡¯s reach, glaring.

    ¡°Are you blind?¡± She demanded. ¡°You just planted your paw on a literal do-not-touch sign. Back off.¡±

    To the man¡¯s credit, he backed off, hands held up in surrender. Not to his credit, he was smirking like a kitten he¡¯d just tried to pet had swiped at him, no more.

    A sick, simmering something coiled in Karlene¡¯s belly. She looked around, and that feeling spread, going up her chest, up her throat, choking her. Only a few people in the mess had looked over at their exchange, and most of those were similarly amused. The rest either stared at her with the dull eyes of the overworked and underpaid, or the gaze of someone who¡¯d never been overly concerned with little things like consent.

    Karlene shoved past Mr. Handsy and the other seated sailors, and barrelled towards the door. What had she been thinking, coming back here?

    Back outside in the corridor, Olien was returning with her satchel of books.

    ¡°The place you¡¯re taking me,¡± she said. ¡°Does it have a door that locks?¡±

    Slowly, Olien shook his head.

    ¡°Then no thanks,¡± she bit out. She grabbed her satchel from him, and marched past, heading back towards Leontis/Axion¡¯s cabin. His lordly princeling-ness, or his squireness, or whoever was there, could just share.

 Chapter Seventeen - From Safety to Peril

    <h1>-Chapter Seventeen-</h1>

    Her first full night aboard the airship went the same as the the previous morning. Since she was crashing in what she now knew, explicitly, was someone else¡¯s cabin, she didn¡¯t even think about taking the bed. She pulled the overstuffed duvet and a few pillows down to the floor by portside porthole, curled up with her cache of books, and easily put herself to sleep after only a few more pages of nonsensical symbols and graphs.

    She didn¡¯t hear when Axion came in, didn¡¯t hear him get into bed and fall asleep, but she heard when the nightmares woke him.

    He didn¡¯t scream. He whimpered.

    More than the confusing awakening, the noise wrecked Karlene¡¯s sense of reality as she struggled to remember where she was and what was going on. She wouldn¡¯t have thought of Axion as someone who whimpered...except maybe if¡­

    Oh, no, Karlene thought, and scrambled to her feet. A foot caught in a fold of duvet, and she fell over her own tangled limbs before rightening herself and stumbling to the side of the bed.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, voice hoarse with sleep. She grabbed the arm closest to her, while keeping her body as far from the bed as she could. She¡¯d woken enough friends during nightmares to know to keep out of arm-flailing distance unless she wanted awkward-to-explain bruises.

    Another whimper followed her first shake.

    ¡°Hey, Axion,¡± she tried again. She shook harder. Still nothing, except for a flop of his head from one side to the other, blue-black hair falling in sweaty clumps across his forehead. His bare chest shone with nightmare sweat, and his feet kicked fitfully beneath the sole sheet.

    ¡°Damnit,¡± Karlene said to herself. She reached over him to grab a spare pillow, thinking to thwak him with it.

    Axion seemed to sense the sudden proximity of another body, and given the likely features of his nightmare, it was no surprise that his hands came up and seized her upper arms in twin bruising grips.

    Karlene cried out, her own hands going to his chest to brace herself as his hands tightened around her biceps and hauled her off balance.

    ¡°Axion!¡± She shouted, and managed to balance on one hand while raising the other to swipe at him. ¡°Let me go!¡±

    The swipe across his face had done nothing. In his sleep, still wrapped in the nightmare, his biceps bulged and he lifted her up and over him, rolling to pin her down amid the pillows that had been shoved out of his way.

    ¡°Axion!¡± She tried again. This time she used both hands, now fisted, to pummel his chest. She switched tactics almost immediately; in his befuddled state, hitting a large muscle group was going to be even less effective than normal. She reached instead for one of the hands still crushing her arms, and dug her thumbnail into the meat between his own thumb and forefinger. She felt blood well, and twisted her thumbnail viciously.

    ¡°Axion! I will claw you bloody if you don¡¯t let me go!¡±

    Above her, Axion jerked. He blinked, and some of the nightmare-film cleared from his eyes. He removed his hands from her arms and instead planted them on either side of her, breathing hard.

    ¡°K-Karlene?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, idiot,¡± she snapped, heart pounding with nerves. Her temper was fighting her attempts to calm it. She¡¯d known people who had horrible, violent nightmares, but after her week, being manhandled and bruised by someone she had come to begin to trust, who had gone through something nightmarish with her¡­

    Recalling that particular something nightmarish reminded Karlene what, exactly, Axion had probably been dreaming about, and she softened.

    A spike of concern for Axion, that he hadn¡¯t escaped reliving that misery, made her raise her hands to his face. He¡¯d hung his head, had his hands fisted in the sheet at her sides. His arms trembled. She pushed sweat-sodden strands of blue hair out of his face.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You good?¡± She asked. Without his sounds of distress and Karlene¡¯s shouting, the room had gone quiet in a way that felt oppressive.

    He nodded, and sighed heavily before pushing up and away from her. He sat back on his heels and let one hand fall to one linen-clad thigh, while his other went to rub at his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Karlene sat up, slowly, and rubbed at one sore bicep. That was going to hurt, tomorrow. She tried to remember where she¡¯d stashed the crystal bottle of bruise ointment Dox had given her.

    She saw Axion¡¯s eyes follow the path of her fingers over her arm, but he said nothing. No apology. He looked away from her, brow furrowed.

    Not sure what to say, Karlene resorted to copying him, and what he¡¯d done the last time the shadow of Unmaking had hung over them. She reached out, and awkwardly patted him on the shoulder before scooting closer and, when his raised eyebrow didn¡¯t indicate he¡¯d shove her off the bed, she put one arm around his shoulders.

    ¡°What...are you doing?¡± He asked.

    Karlene pulled back as if burned.

    ¡°Nothing useful, apparently,¡± she said, and shuffled off the bed. ¡°Go back to sleep, if you-¡±

    Without warning, the hatch bounced off the bulkhead, and the hatchway to the cabin was full of looming Enochian. And it really was full. Overfull, even. Hatches on ships were never big, and Leontis was nowhere near being a small man.

    ¡°Leo,¡± Axion grunted, and pulled himself upright out of the hunched-over position he¡¯d sunk into. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Leontis¡¯s eyes, practically glowing with an ice-blue sheen, shot to Karlene. He addressed Axion, though, when he spoke.

    ¡°Olien fetched me. He reported sounds of...distress.¡±

    Doing a quick mental calculation, she narrowed her eyes at Leontis.

    ¡°Sounds of distress? When? Because there have been no sounds for a few minutes now, and it doesn¡¯t take that long to run from one end of this ship to the other.¡±

    Leontis quirked one corner of his mouth. ¡°Olien was uncertain of the nature of the sounds, at first.¡±

    Karlene gave a slow blink of incredulity.

    ¡°Your Olien needs to get laid if he seriously thought I was making those kind of noises. I was just trying to wake Axion.¡±

    Now Leontis did look to Axion, who raised his hands and shoulders in an attempt at a nonchalant shrug.

    ¡°What can I say? The food was that bad. Giant pots of rotten pea and potato mush...¡± He gave an exaggerated shudder that seemed to turn into a legitimate shudder.

    ¡°I was told the dropling was to be given her own berth.¡±

    ¡°The dropling didn¡¯t feel like sleeping with one eye open,¡± Karlene said testily. She sank back down to her nest of pillows and duvet, and dug out the crystal bottle of salve from one of the book satchel¡¯s pockets.

    Leontis frowned at her.

    ¡°You are safe aboard my vessel.¡± He seemed offended she¡¯d doubted it.

    ¡°Tell that to your crew,¡± she said. She turned on her rump on the floor, and yanked down the strap of her top to point at her new tattoo. ¡°Apparently this isn¡¯t as foolproof as you both led me to believe.¡±

    Thoroughly grumpy now, Karlene unstoppered the bottle, poured some out into her hands, and began to massage the salve into her arms. She caught Axion¡¯s eyes tracking her slicked fingers for a moment, but once again he said nothing.

    ¡°It was nothing, Leo,¡± Axion said gently, moreso than Karlene had ever heard from him. ¡°Olien shouldn¡¯t have disturbed you.¡±

    ¡°I was not disturbed.¡±

    ¡°You were asleep.¡±

    ¡°I was reading.¡±

    ¡°Shirtless?¡± Axion raised an eyebrow.

    Something about their exchange made Karlene look up from restoppering the bottle. Axion had moved to sit at the edge of the bed, while Leontis still stood in the doorway, unmoving. No, that was wrong, his eyes were definitely moving, tracing Axion¡¯s slightest movement. Axion looked up and caught Leontis¡¯s intent gaze and held it with his own.

    Oh, she thought to herself, realization dawning.

    Oh.

    ¡°For the love of¡­ I am not trying to steal your boyfriend, Leontis.¡± Karlene groaned, flopping backwards into the cushions. ¡°Promise. He¡¯s not my type.¡±

    Liar, her definitely on-fire pants taunted. Later, when she wasn¡¯t feeling the grumpiness of being woken and the awkwardness of Axion¡¯s hug-rejection, she¡¯d probably be recalling the sight and feel of Axion hovering above her, sweaty and gasping, in a whole new light.

    But fantasies were one thing- cockblocking was another.

    When neither male responded to her statement, she lifted her head up from where she¡¯d let it fall against a pillow. Both Leontis and Axion were staring at her with wide, stunned eyes.

    ¡°What?¡± She asked. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you two aren¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Silence,¡± Leontis hissed, and took a half step back, looked left and right, then entered the room and shut the hatch behind him. He turned his suddenly murderous glare on Axion, who had stood abruptly.

    ¡°Leo, she doesn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°I am rather through caring what she does and doesn¡¯t,¡± the winged-man snapped. The mild demeanor he¡¯d shown around her had vanished like vapor. This man in front of her was a stranger, even more so than the overly polite Leontis had been. This one stalked across the room, loomed over her like the nightmare she¡¯d thought she¡¯d escaped, and reached down for her.

    With the memory of Diom¡¯s shadow still fresh in the room, Karlene scuttled back, got tangled in the duvet again, and slammed her back against the bulkhead beneath the porthole.

    Leontis didn¡¯t slow down. He changed the angle of his reach to accommodate her mad scramble, grasped her by one arm -right over the imprint of Axion¡¯s fingers- and pulled her up.

    And up.

    And up¡­

    In her mild state of panic, it took Karlene half a heartbeat to notice that she wasn¡¯t the only one moving; the whole room, and Leontis and Axion in it, had been flung sideways. The momentum of Leontis pulling her up had merged with the sudden, violent tilting of the room, resulting in her back smacking painfully against the overhead. She gasped as she fell, as the room corrected itself¡­ Overcorrected, apparently, as the walls suddenly shifted the complete opposite direction.

    ¡°If that old fool is drinking at my helm again-¡± Leontis swore from his sprawled place on the ground. Despite everything going on, Karlene took a mental snapshot of the sight of the prince on the ground, limbs all akimbo.

    ¡°It¡¯s not Palades,¡± Axion cut him off, snatching a shirt from where it had been tossed across the room. He yanked it on, and then helped Leontis to his feet. ¡°We¡¯re under attack.¡±