Lois Fogg
Fantasy
PG-13

Book One: Why I Should Have Read the Fine Print
Chapter Two

Jeannie greeted me at the door, obviously desiring her dinner,
or else she would never deign to treat me so nicely. Artemis was no
where in sight. He wouldnÕt be, I thought cynically, considering the
mood I was in. He was probably hiding out back, waiting for the storm
to blow over. Jeannie pressed her head insistently against my calf,
reminding me gently of her presence. I half-smiled and walked to the
kitchen. Pump and Cleo hadnÕt made an appearance for dinner either,
which relieved me. I fed Jeannie perfunctorily, and let her to it. I
thought of settling in the library again, but I felt incredibly restless.
Finally, I just decided to go out for a walk. The air outside was
intensely humid, and not a leaf stirred with any passing breeze. I didnÕt
see anyone on our street, obviously I was the only person insane
enough to want to go outside in this weather. One glance at the sky,
however, told me that it would rain very soon. I walked towards our
neighborhood park and a little wooded area adjacent to it, just thinking.
I wondered where Petunia was. She hadnÕt volunteered that
information, only told me that if I *really* needed to contact her, to call
some anonymous number in Switzerland. I had a feeling I would be
forced to go on a wild goose chase if I did need to find her, but I
couldnÕt think of any reason why I would. I sat on a bench in the
deserted park and let the rain soak into my skin. It felt nice after the
stifling humidity of the rest of the day. Unfortunately, I had forgotten
an integral part of nice rainstorms: thunder. At the first rumble and
flash, one so hard that it shook the ground and lit up the now-dark sky
like day time, I jumped off the bench, galvanized, and emitted a shriek.
How could I have forgotten? I wondered, as I pelted back towards
PetuniaÕs house. IÕve always been afraid of thunder and lightening, for
some reason. The fear is more irrational than anything. Something
about it just renders me a helpless little sobbing child. Just before I
reached the front door, I slipped and fell on the wet pavement. I picked
myself up quickly, suppressing the tears that rose in my eyes. I was far
too old for that now anyway. Finally, I opened the door and ran back
inside, shivering with the now-uncomfortable onslaught of air-
conditioning. I cursed under my breath and removed my dripping
clothing on the welcome mat to avoid trekking water through the
house. I undid my braid and tried to ring out my hair, but it still clung
damply to my exposed back. I balled up my clothes and left them on
the back porch, under the overhang where at least they wouldnÕt get
any wetter. Petunia did not have a washer or dryer to speak of, although
I could not imagine her going to a Laundromat. I grabbed my teddy
bear and pajamas from the kitchen and trudged desultorily up the stairs.
I hoped that Petunia had another bed besides her own, but the only
other rooms upstairs were a bathroom, a storage room, and two locked
doors. I wondered what she kept behind them, since her own bedroom
door remained wide open. As soon as I entered that sanctuary,
however, I realized why. Jeannie slept regally, her furry, overweight
mass sprawled across the bed. Considering PetuniaÕs other dŽcor, I was
expecting something either bizarre or decadent in her bedroom, but I
found it to be disappointingly normal. The bed was of an unusual
length, but king width, and was covered by an unostentatious dark
purple bedspread. On the floor was a huge Persian carpet, and a few
mahogany chests lined the walls. There were a few paintings, but none
by the nameless artist from downstairs. I hoped that Petunia wouldnÕt
mind my sleeping in her bed, but something told me that it wouldnÕt
faze her in the least. Walking to the bathroom, I stripped off the rest of
my wet undergarments and changed into my favoriteÑand ridiculously
oldÑpink bunny pajamas. I stared out the bathroom window, surprised
to see that the rain had not yet let up. Occasionally I still heard
booming thunder, but if I kept myself busy enough I figured that I
could ignore it. I turned abruptly away from the window, back
downstairs, intent on procuring a late-night snack. I still wasnÕt quite
ready for bed yet, and I had a desire to try some of the goodies in
PetuniaÕs fridge. It wouldnÕt do to let all of that perfectly good ice
cream go to waste, now would it? I was throwing away the tubÑhaving
gotten a little carried awayÑwhen the power went out. I jumped in
surprise, causing me to ram stomach first into the sink and producing a
small curse of frustration. Why did this just have to be the worst day of
my entire life? I felt like giving in to the tears that had been threatening
all day. To top it all off, I was having PMS! This day just wasnÕt
working out properly at all, I thought dejectedly as I bumped my way
out of the kitchen in the dark, trying to find a candle of some sort. I
thought I remembered seeing a huge one in the library on one of the
bookshelves. Matches were another matter entirely, but I supposed that
I would cross that bridge when I came to it. I wondered why Petunia
kept a candle as big as fist on her bookshelf, but it might have just been
her strange idea of decoration. It did not once occur to me that it might
have had another, more obscure purpose. After considerable bumbling,
tripping and cursing, I found the candle. Thankfully, she had placed it
on its own carrier, so at least I didnÕt have to worry about dripping wax
all over myself. I looked outside hopefully, wishing that the rain would
let up and the power come back on, but it only came down harder. I
wondered, briefly, how Mina and ÒEngieÓ were getting on. Having
ascertained that there were no matches anywhere near the candle, I
wandered back into the kitchen, my night vision having adjusted by this
time. I finally found some in the drawer with the cat food, of all places.
Gratefully, I lit the candle, and had to shield my eyes from the suddenly
bright flame. I breathed a sigh of reliefÑat least now I didnÕt have to
run into things. The flickering light did make everything look a little
eerie, though, and the storm outside didnÕt help to make the night less
mysterious. I felt like I had somehow wandered onto the set of a bad
horror movie. Any second now the killer was going to callÉI
screamed, rather loudly, at the sound of Pump and Cleo taking refuge
from the deluge in the kitchen. They looked at me a little oddly, and
then ignored me. I had to go upstairs. Taking a deep breath, I
masterfully avoided bumping into things and walked up the stairs
towards that blissful-looking bed.
	Jeannie, if it was possible, had taken up more of the bed than
before. Almost as if in anticipation of my designs, she had stretched her
feline body to its limits, sprawled at precisely the angle to allow me the
least use of the bed.
	ÒNow, move Jeannie.Ó I muttered gently, endeavoring to push
her over without dripping wax all over the bed. She meowed gently,
and swiped at me with a delicate paw, and did not move an inch.
ÒJeannie, please be nice.Ó A hint of desperation entered my voice. My
day just couldnÕt possibly be this bad, I thought hysterically. Kicked
out of a bed by a cat? I refuse!
	ÒJeannie!Ó I said more forcefully, accompanied by a helpful
push across the bed. She let off a sound to rival Artemis and hissed at
me suggestively. From the way her paw was raised, I had a feeling she
would hit me with those untrimmed claws of hers if I tried it again. I
was too tired to duke it out with a pampered feline.
	ÒFine, have it your way.Ó I muttered in defeat. If this day was
going to be bad, I thought philosophically, there was nothing to stop it
from being awful. I raided PetuniaÕs linen closet and found some
particularly atrocious-looking jungle theme bed sheets and brought
them downstairs with me. The couch in the library was the only other
halfway decent place to sleep in the house. Not like I expected to sleep
well after all this. I set up my bed as well as I could, careful to avoid
setting anything on fire. I could avoid that disaster, at least. I had tried
combing my hair upstairs, but it proved almost impossible without a
good hour on my handsÑwaist length hair is not a treat when it comes
to combingÑso I had just given up and braided it again. With nothing
else to do, I considered trying to sleep, but a curious glint of something
in the corner of the room caught my eye. With some curiosity I moved
back towards the door to discover the same book I had found earlier in
the afternoon. I had dropped it, I recalled, when Artemis began raising
holy terror. I fingered the perfect circle on the front curiously. Although
I knew the pages were blank, I brought it back to the couch with me
anyway. I wrapped myself snuggly in the covers before I picked up the
book again, wondering why I felt such a strange attachment to it.
Mentally shrugging my shoulders, I opened it and stared in shock.
	Although every page had been blank a few hours earlier, the
front page was now filled with the unintelligible characters of the other
books-- with a subtle difference. The others had been clearly printed,
and this, just as clearly, was someoneÕs handwriting. WhatÕs going on
here? I wondered, feeling what looked like fresh ink. I had locked all
the doors before I left, and even if someone *had* broken in, why
would they do nothing more than write strange characters in a blank
book? It was entirely too strange. I wondered if perhaps I had missed
the writing earlier, but I knew it wasnÕt true. I definitely would have
noticed this. This was easily becoming the strangest day of my life.
Hesitantly, I turned the page and found similar writing on the next two
sheets. Then it stopped. It resembled, to my untrained eye, a diary
entry, of all things. I clenched my fists in frustration. I knew that
something monumental was happening, but it was all useless if I
couldnÕt read the text. I was about to slam the book shut when I noticed
something strange appearing on the back of one page. Again, I was sure
that it had been blank a minute earlier. Even as I watched, an unknown
hand scribbled across the previously pristine surface. Then I noticed
something else.
	This writing was in English. Each page of the unknown
language was being translated for me, by whose or what power I could
not begin to guess. Reality was quickly slipping away from my grasp,
but I was too curious to really worry about it. What would happen
next? I quickly turned to the next few pages, and saw that they were
being translated as well. As the last word was written out, I noticed that
the original text was fading, leaving only the words I could understand.
I stared blankly at the book for several minutes, trying to decide
whether or not to read. I knew intuitively that I lay at a crossroads at
this moment. I could close the book, put it carefully back on the shelf
and forget that all of this had ever happened to me. I could try to forget
the way my heart was pounding, and lead a normal, if frustrating life.
Or, I could read this text, and enter headfirst into whatever adventure
this meant for me, regardless of the consequences.
	Well, it wasnÕt really much of a choice, now was it?
I eagerly plunged into the book, flipping back to the first page.
Unsure of what to expect, but excited all the same.

The 6th day of the Horse moon:

The king gave me this book, along with his sword just before
he plague killed him. I had no time to mourn this man who claimed to
be my father, for the forces of the Kojin [AN: Kojin means ÒforeignerÓ
in Japanese] were already descending upon my village. Ashitare, Genro
and I left in secret that night. So few of the villagers escaped the
plague, I donÕt know who will be left to greet them. At least the
children have left. At the first sign of trouble, the Lady had spirited
them all someplace safe. It was the last anyone had seen of her. I donÕt
know why she favored our village so, since I know others have not
been so lucky. The Lady is, of course, the reason for this exercise.
When the King gave me this book, he instructed me to use it as a diary,
and that the inscription would lead me to the Lady. She is our only
hope in this matter. Since she left, the Kojin has terrorized and killed us
with this plague. Soon there will be none left to fight. She must have
known this, but she has left, and no one can find her. Our only hope is
this ridiculous trail of clues. Somehow, I have to find her. She is the
only one who can understand the KojinÕs magic, and therefore the only
one to defeat him. I still canÕt really believe that I am the one to do 
this,
but it seems as though there is no one else. At least Ashitare and Genro
have come with me, I donÕt know if I could have done this alone.
We are heading towards the city of Mirror, on the far coast of
the main island. I hope that my hunch is correct, because it is the only
meaning I can decipher from the inscription. I donÕt understand why I
need to write in this book, but I am not willing to take any chances.
Besides, itÕs been a while since IÕve written anything, and I find that I
enjoy it. The Korino Forest offers some protection, but soon we will be
forced to cross the Iru Mountains. There is a way around, by boat, but it
is dangerous and will take far too much time. I know that we may
already be too late. My map shows a pass through them that will be
much quicker, but Ashitare worries that it leaves us too vulnerable to
ambush. I see his point, but I cannot see there is much we can do about
it. Genro agrees with me, but then, he is always up for a fight. We can
defend ourselves against attack, in any case. I believe the gain is worth
the risk. Besides, I canÕt believe that the Kojin knows where we are. If
he did, then we would be dead already. If it comes down to it, I always
have my motherÕs necklace. She always did have the strangest powers.
Three more days and we should clear the forest. Two more weeks
should take us to Mirror.
Mamoru.

	I fell asleep with the book tucked securely against my chest,
dreaming of foreign men in an alien world, whose story had become
my own.

	That morning, I was not surprised to see EnglebertÕs car still
parked outside. Obviously, Mina had gotten precisely what she wanted.
Normally, this thought would have sent my thoughts in the familiar
direction of why *I* wasnÕt getting what I wanted, but today my head
was filled with the innocent-looking little book, tucked safely in my
pajama bottoms. I still sported my oh-so-classy pajamas, of course,
because my clothes had not dried out yet, and I didnÕt think a trip
across the street really mattered. I was still decent, after all. This
rational still did not stop me from cringing in embarrassment when my
neighbor pulled out of his driveway, staring at me with an expression of
incredulity. I ran the rest of the way to the door and let myself in. The
kitchen was a disaster area. It seemed, from the debris, that Mina had
decided to speed things up a little earlier than she had originally
intended. The remains of my burnt fish and the apple pie that she had
baked herself lay strewn across the counter and the floor. I followed the
trail of pie fillings to MinaÕs bedroom, where the sounds of heavy
snoring still emanated. I avoided the mess ruefully, grateful at least that
my room had been spared. I grabbed some casual clothes and went to
the bathroom for a quick shower. As I lathered my hair I thought more
about what I had read last night. With the distance that sleep affords,
my experience seemed less bizarre and more exciting. What exactly
had I read? Who was this Mamoru, and what world had I been given a
glimpse into? Although I knew that my own curiosity had driven me to
find the book, I couldnÕt help but feel that someone, somewhere had
orchestrated this whole thing, and that I had played my part perfectly.
Perhaps Petunia is behind this, I mused thoughtfully, remembering her
enigmatic looks and comments. She certainly had some involvement
with this world. Most of the books in her library, in fact, were from
there. I thought back to the painting that I had admired so much. Could
that, too, have been painted there? I was overcome with excitement,
and a desire to learn more. Unfortunately, Petunia was god-knows-
where, so I had to discover this on my own. As far as I could tell, a
plague associated with someone named the Kojin was spreading rapidly
and this anonymous Lady was the only person who could stop it. She,
most unfortunately, seemed to have vacated the premises permanently
just before the terror struck. She had, however, left a bunch of clues
that people in desperate need could follow and use to find her. It
seemed like a roundabout method to me, though. And if this Lady
really was that powerful, why didnÕt she know what was happening to
her world? This Kojin guy sounded pretty forbidding. What intrigued
me more than that, however, was Mamoru. He had written so little, and
most of what he had written was rather impersonal, but his character
still somehow intrigued me. What kind of man would take on a task as
daunting as his, with the clear knowledge that he had no chance of
survival if caught by this seemingly all-powerful enemy? He was the
KingÕs son, he said, but he didnÕt strike me as someone who had grown
up as royalty. A bastard, perhaps? It seemed almost as if the knowledge
of his parentage was new to him. I wondered what he looked like.
Ruggedly handsome, hopefully, with powerful arms, but delicate
handsÉ
	ÒSerena! Are you in there?Ó I dropped the soap, and
reluctantly dragged my thoughts away from that pleasant subject.
	ÒYeah, yeah. IÕll be out in a minute.Ó I turned off the shower
and grabbed the towel, shivering in the colder air. I changed in the
bathroom, since I wasnÕt sure if ÒEngieÓ had left. Then I remembered
that I had left the book lying on my bed in plain sight. I donÕt know
why I was feeling so possessive of it, but I had a sudden irrational
feeling that if I left it alone for another second, I would never see it
again. To my surprise, when I ran to my bedroom, wet hair still
dripping, I found Mina sitting on the foot of my bed, the book in her
hands. Her eyes held a curious expression, much more serious than I
had often seen her.
	ÒGive that back!Ó I snapped, quickly pulling it from her grasp.
	ÒWhat is it, Serena?Ó She asked, almost intensely but not
angrily. I opened my mouth to answer, but I realized that I couldnÕt tell
her. She would think I was crazy, and I didnÕt really want to share this
with anyone. I was afraid that if I told someone the spell would be
broken, and I would lose my chance for adventure. Because this was,
almost certainly, my wished-for adventure. Thankfully, I was spared
from responding by Artemis, of all things. He appeared almost as if by
magic in my bedroom, meowing to Mina insistently. She left, but it
almost seemed as if he had nosed her out of the bedroom. Just before he
left, he looked at me with a disturbingly perceptive gaze. I shuddered,
wondering what exactly Artemis was. He seemed less and less like
normal cat, certainly. I grabbed my purse and stuffed the book inside it.
Feeling more secure, I walked back across the street to PetuniaÕs house.
I had to fold up the sheets and straighten up the mess that I had made
bumping around last night. That chore occupied my time for about two
hours, but after that I found myself left with absolutely nothing to do. I
checked the book compulsively, hoping that Mamoru had written
something else. I found it hard to shake off an irrational fear that the
events last night were just a one-time occurrence. I was desperately
afraid of jinxing the entire thing. Finally, after I got tired of wearing a
groove in the kitchen floor, I fed the cats and locked up the house.
Mina had left, apparently. She had made a half-hearted attempt to clean
the floor, but the place still smelled suspiciously like apple pie. I went
to my room and pulled out my Tae Kwon Do uniformÑI could at least
expend my energies with a physical workout, if nothing else. The
studio was closed during the day, but I could practice in our back-
terrace area. I tied the red belt with a practiced motion, and walked
outside. Artemis slipped in just before I closed the door, displaying
every intention of watching me practice. At this point, I viewed the cat
with a wary suspicion, but he had not done anything to make me see
him as hostile, as of yet. I had also ceased to view him as just a cat. For
the next two hours I kicked and punched my way to physical
exhaustion, which did a great deal for my mental state. I had been
practicing Tae Kwon Do for the past five years. Although IÕm generally
a clumsy person in all other areas of my life, I have a natural aptitude
for martial arts. I was almost ready to test for my black belt, a fact that
made me inordinately proud of myself. My ability to defend myself
always shocked people who thought they knew me. I knew that I came
across as ineffectual and slightly stupid sometimes, so it was always
good to have something else up my sleeve. Throughout the entire
process, Artemis regarded me with the same appraising stare. I found
myself performing harder kicks and forcing myself past my old limits
just to impress him. It was ridiculous, of course, but then, so was
reading journal entries written by some man from another universe.
After I had tired myself out completely, I went back inside and
showered again. Mina still hadnÕt come back, so I decided to bite the
bullet and clean up the apartment. I didnÕt think that I could handle a
colony of ants moving in with us. Mina was a handful as a roommate,
as it was. By the time that was finished, it was already five oÕclock. I
went back to PetuniaÕs house, trailed by Artemis, and wandered around
there for a while, still periodically checking the book.  Finally, I just
gave up and turned on the television. I sat in the kitchen, eyes glazed
over. I couldnÕt tell you what show I watched, because my brain had
simply ceased to function. One can only keep up a fever pitch of
intensity for so long, before reality takes its toll. I dimly noted MinaÕs
return to our apartment, but nothing else seemed to register, until I
realized that it was already ten oÕclock. I eagerly ran to the library,
closing the door on a disgruntled Artemis. I waited until I was settled
before I opened it up again. This time, finally, there was another entry.
I breathed a sigh of relief; it felt as though I had been holding my
breath for the past day. The translation seemed to move faster this time,
but I still forced myself to wait until the characters disappeared before I
read what he had written. It was as exiting as I had hoped.

The Seventh day of the Horse moon:

Someone, at least, knows where we are and suspects what
weÕre doing. It seems that AshitareÕs fears were not entirely unfounded.
We were attacked by a group of five masked men today, in a secluded
area of the forest. They were obviously supposed to be bandits, but no
bandit rides horses that fine, or wields weapons that well crafted. We
beat them off with minimal damage, but it seemed that they were
simply there to rate our ability, not to kill us. It worries me now
especially, since we are nearing pass, which will easily be our most
vulnerable spot this trip. I know that speed is important, but our death
will serve no purpose like this. I will have to think of some way of
minimizing out risk. The journey today was other wise uneventful.
	I have been trying to understand why I have to write in this
journal, but no answer has presented itself as of yet. I thought, at first,
that perhaps the Lady read what I wrote, but if she did then she would
know what is happening to Umeru, and I cannot believe that she would
abandon us to this fate. I canÕt shake the feeling, though, that
*someone* is reading this, somewhere. I only hope that whoever it is
does not have a malicious purpose towards my mission. There is
always a possibility that this journal is a trick of the Kojin, but I
suppose that that is a risk that I must take. One more day in this forest
and we will reach the pass. I only hope that I will have a plan by then.
My position now is nearing impossible, and itÕs already so early in my
journey. But, then again, no one ever told me this would be easy.
	Mamoru.

	The following day passed much like the other. My excitement
about the journal had, if anything, increased with my second reading.
What would happen next? Would he decide to go through the pass? If
he did, would he survive? At least he had mentioned the name of his
world: Umeru. The knowledge made me feel closer to him, irrationally.
I barely made it through the day sane, but finally nighttime arrived, and
I read the next entry.

The Eighth day of the Horse moon:

	Our journey today was disturbingly peaceful. I kept glancing
over my shoulder and riding ahead to make sure that we werenÕt being
followed, but I still couldnÕt shake the feeling. IÕm afraid that the Kojin
is using his magic to trace our steps, but there is no way for me to
defend against that. I can only hope that my fears are unfounded.
Ashitare, Genro and I finally agreed that we had to risk going through
the Fugira pass. The sea is unusually dangerous during this time of
year, and even if we survive the trip, it will add a week or more to our
travel time. We have concocted a plan, however, that might help us if
we are attacked at the pass. I only hope that it will work. IÕm afraid that
our efforts will be about as effective as a bucket of water in the face of
a forest fire. So many people have put their faith in me. My failure, I
suspect, would consign all Umeru to death. No, I must not allow my
self to think of it. Failure is not an option on this quest. No matter how
much I have to sacrifice, I will succeed. The King, the princess, all of
my neighbors killed by the KojinÕs plagueÉmy motherÉI owe it to
them all.
	Mamoru.

	I closed my eyes briefly, trying to understand the passion that
had to move him to continue his mission, despite the obvious odds. It
pained me to admit it, but I was strangely attracted to him. I was
worried about him though. I began to sense that I would not long be
content with just reading about his adventures. I was becoming more
involved by the day, and I could not simply sit back and watch his
destruction. If there were no entry tomorrow, then I would know that
something had happened to him, but what? I no longer wanted to be a
spectator. What he was doing was incredibly dangerous; I knew it as
well as he. If only there was some way that I could help himÉthe
thought drifted away as sleep overtook me.

	That night, I had the dream. I stood in a darkened room, well
kept, but not sumptuous. There was the muffled sound of a large crowd
coming through the floor. Blinds had been pulled over the windows,
and the only light came from three torches against the walls. Rice mats
lay covered the floor. A low table stood in the center of the room. Ten
men knelt on the pillows surrounding it. They all wore slightly curved
swords on their backs, and black clothing. They were engaged in some
important discussion, involving a map of some kind. I moved in closer,
and saw that it was a map of a large island, probably part of an
archipelago. Obviously my presence was invisible, for no one so much
as glanced up when I peered at the map. At first, I could not understand
a word being spoken, but gradually the meaning came clear to me.
They were still not speaking English, but I understood anyway. The
man at the head of the table spoke in a deceptively mild voice, the tone
belying the action they discussed.
	ÒThey will be at their most vulnerable in the Fugira pass. We
do not know what protection the Lady has given them, but we will
almost certainly be able to overwhelm them. The ground is treacherous
and narrow, allowing them no room for maneuvering or fleeing. The
Kojin has given me an amulet that will magically block the only
possible escape route on the west side.Ó He pointed to the map. ÒYour
job will be simple. Allow them to enter on their own, surround them,
take them captive. They may be hurt, but not too seriously. Under no
circumstances are they to be killed!Ó He looked around the room
silently, his eyes telling with heavy emphasis the consequences of
disobeying him. The men lowered their gazes and shifted
uncomfortably.  ÒRest assured the Kojin will reward you handsomely,Ó
he finished. I sucked in my breath painfully as I realized what they
were talking about. They did know what Mamoru was doing. No matter
how good he was, these ten men would easily capture him, and I had no
idea what they planned to do afterwards. ÒAny questions?Ó The man
asked, alerting me again.
	After a moment, one man cleared his throat reluctantly. ÒThe
horse-moon is a lucky time for warriors, Ushiru-samaÉcould we not
wait until the rabbit?Ó
	The man shrunk under the leaderÕs scornful gaze. ÒWho would
you rather believe? Out-of-date superstitions, or the power of the
Kojin? We have no time to lose, men. Leave now if you want no part of
the rewards.Ó Which, effectively, shut him up. At some unseen signal,
the men bowed and rose from the table. Even as they did so, I felt the
scene fading.
	I woke up suddenly, remembering the dream with crystal
clarity, feeling a large knot of dread sitting in the middle of my
stomach. I had to save him. Somehow, I had to warn Mamoru about
what was happening. If he knew what his enemies were planning, he
would have to risk the boat around the mountains. It occurred to me
vaguely that my dream might have been just that, a product of my over-
active imagination trying to think of a way to involve myself. But I
doubted it. The diary wasnÕt a dream, and the meeting had been too
realistic and detailed in too many places for it to be fake. I knew
nothing about this culture, and I could not have made up that entire
scene, I was sure of it. I did not allow my doubts to interfere for long. I
jumped out of my bed and grabbed some clothes, walking out the door
while I put them on. I took two minutes to scribble out a note to Mina,
informing her that I would be away for a few days and not to worry. I
grabbed a brush with a half-hearted attempt to make my hair
presentable, but gave up the exercise as futile and superfluous. Right
now, it didnÕt matter what my hair looked like. I had to save Mamoru. I
grabbed the book and my purse and sprinted out the door, across the
street. As I did so, I noticed Artemis trailing me once again. I didnÕt
even bother to wonder why he was there. It made a bizarre sort of
sense, anyway. I ran to the library instinctively, somehow sure that
what I needed was there.
	Then, I stopped. What, exactly, did I need anyway? I had to
find some way to talk to him, of course. He needed to know before he
fell into the trap. I think that subconsciously I had already identified
Petunia as some sort of witch. Now, I latched onto that knowledge with
a vengeance. What I needed was a spell. Not just any spell, but a spell
to take me back to that world. But where would I look? I couldnÕt even
read half the books in her library, so by necessity this spell would have
to be in English, or come with some translations. To top it off, her
library held thousands of books, several of them tucked away in hidden
corners. How could I possibly hope to find what I needed with such
little time? I was on the verge of tears before I remembered something
vital. Just before Petunia had left, she had given me my salary from the
only locked drawer in the entire library. I had noted where she kept the
key, but never thought about it before. Now, I was overcome with the
certainty that if I could just find the key again, I would find the spell I
needed. It was amazing how much I was relying on my hunches, but
the entire situation seemed surreal enough for such a method to work.
Artemis was pacing in a circle in front of me, looking incredibly
worried about something. He glanced up at me periodically, and then
kept pacing.
	ÒDonÕt worry, Artemis. I know what IÕm doing.Ó I said, more
to comfort myself than him. In fact, I had no clue, but little trivialities
like that were not going to stop me in my current mood. It was a
measure of my single-minded purpose that my conscience did not even
twinge at the thought of rifling through PetuniaÕs personal belongings.
It also helped that I had a hunch that she meant for this to happen
anyway. I thought back to a week ago, when she had pulled out the key.
For a moment I had a panic attack because I could not remember where
the key was, but I finally remembered.
	ÒOf course! Behind the left bookshelf!Ó I said aloud, rushing
to it. I inserted my hand and fiddled around until I felt the key, hanging
on a peg. I was relieved, but I was by no means in the clear just yet. I
went back to the dresser drawer, feeling that every moment I lost here
was crucial. The drawer opened easily, and I felt Artemis crawl into my
lap so that he could look inside as well. The contents were, as I had
expected, quite messy, but I felt absurdly confident that I would find
what I was looking for.
	ÒWhy donÕt you help me out, you little freeloader.Ó I muttered
to Artemis as I searched the drawer. He looked at me strangely, and
then did actually insert his front paws into the drawer and began
moving papers.
	ÒYou are definitely *not* a normal cat.Ó I said aloud, staring
in disbelief. He gave me a look that seemed to convey Òglad you
noticed,Ó and continued looking. Shrugging my shoulders, I removed
several books, but all of them were written in that strange language. I
felt despair creeping up around the edges of my thoughts, but I pushed
it down ruthlessly. I had to find some sort of spell, and by necessity it
had to be one I could read. Just before I gave up completely I saw a
piece of paper peeking out from the corner. In fact, Artemis and I saw it
at the exact same time, because his paw and my hand reached for it
simultaneously. I pulled at it eagerly, in my haste tearing a bit from the
bottom. When I looked at it, my first reaction was to want to cry,
because the writing was again unintelligible. Artemis, however, ran his
paw insistently over the writing and I looked again.
	ÒShe translated it!Ó I shouted triumphantly, picking up
Artemis in my enthusiasm. He yowled his displeasure and I quickly put
him back down again. Standing up, I turned on the desk lamp, and put
the paper underneath the light. I found it slightly suspicious that the
paper, although old, did not have any of the dust that the other papers in
the drawer did. It also looked as though it had been ripped out of a
larger book. Had I given any time to thinking about it, I would have
suspected Petunia of planting the paper just for me to find. At the time I
didnÕt care how it got there, I was just glad that I had found it. Glad,
because this paper was exactly what I was looking for.
At the top, scribbled below the characters, I read: ÒShort term
teleport to alternate worlds; rating: easy.Ó Great, I thought eagerly, easy
was just my style. I scanned further. ÒThis spell will last exactly one
day from the time of casting, and then will return the caster to his/her
native world. This spell is non-reusable. Included is a simple
understanding spell. Other modifications are up to the discretion of the
user.Ó What was this, I thought, disbelieving, a recipe for apple pie? I
had always assumed spell-books to be a little more mysterious than
this. Quickly growing bored with the fine print, I jumped ahead to the
actual spell.
ÒClear a space about four feet in diameter around you.
Remove all easily movable objects, such as books and candles. A chalk
circle may be drawn to facilitate this process, but it is not necessary.Ó
ÒWell, here goes nothing.Ó I said aloud. I quickly set to get rid
of all the papers and books around me. I even moved the table, just to
be sure. The spell casting probably would have been easier in the foyer,
but it just felt more appropriate in here. ThatÕs where I had found the
book after all. After a momentÕs hesitation, I removed the journal as
well. If something happened, I didnÕt want to lose it, and there had to
be a reason why the spell called for the removal of all easily movable
items. I decided to forgo the chalk since I didnÕt know where any could
be found, and I didnÕt feel like taking the time out to bother. That
having been accomplished, I returned to the page.
ÒStand in the middle of the circle, palms upraised. Remain in
this position until enough power is drawn.Ó I paused there. Enough
power is drawn? How was I supposed to do that? Shaking my head
resolutely, I continued reading. There had to be a way. ÒFirst, invoke
the spell-type by chanting ÔTervaliÕ in a loud, clear voice once. Then,
chant the name of your world similarly. Finally, your destination can be
chosen in one of two ways. If you know where you want to go, chant
that. If you wish to find a specific person, chant that name clearly. If
you have called enough power, you will be transported there instantly.
Remember to wait an interval between chants, and be warned that too
much power or too little could prove fatal in this spell.Ó
That was it. No more helpful hints, no more instructions. And
this was *easy*? I couldnÕt believe it. God forbid I should ever try a
hard spell. Obviously this was meant for people with some familiarity
with spell casting. I could only hope that I could manage draw power,
and that I would then be lucky enough to have drawn the right amount.
I thought of going back up and reading the introduction, but I figured
that it would be about as incomprehensible as the rest, and I didnÕt want
to confuse myself. Taking a deep breath, I walked back over to my
cleared area. I knew that if I didnÕt do it now I would lose my nerve
entirely.
ÒWish me luck, Artemis.Ó I said. I only had a day, it seemed,
but that would be enough to warn him. Artemis stared at me sadly.
ÒOh, donÕt look like that! IÕm not going to die!Ó At least I hoped not.
That warning about power levels struck me ominously. This definitely
ranked up there with the stupidest things IÕd ever done in my life, but I
didnÕt care. Taking a deep breath, I began.
I held my hands out, palms facing towards the ceiling. I closed
my eyes and breathed regularly. I had an impression that Òtaking
powerÓ was probably a lot like meditation. Unbidden, the image came
to me of a week ago when I had pretended to be a sorceress and stood
in the middle of PetuniaÕs foyer. I reached back further, and
remembered when I was younger, in elementary school, and would try
to take the power of a passing thunderstorm within myself, to
manipulate it. As I thought of it, the power flowed naturally. As if I had
removed a mental dam, I felt myself tingle with a force I felt I could
barely contain. I allowed it to flow for some time, feeling giddy, but a
sharp meow from Artemis stopped me before I drew too much. I trusted
him, largely because I had no other opinions in the matter. I only hoped
he knew what he was talking about. It was time to start the spell.
ÒTervali.Ó I sort of sang-spoke, dragging the vowels out to
make them feel grander. I felt the power within me subtly change; it
was working! Now, for the name of the world.
ÒUmeru.Ó I chanted in the same way. I suddenly felt distant
from the room I was in, as if my body were poised between two worlds.
I also realized how dangerous this could be if I lost my concentration
now. Eternal limbo was not my idea of a life-well-lived. One last word
and hopefully, I would be there.
ÒMamoru.Ó I said, and for some reason the word had more
meaning invested in it than I had originally intended. In a split second,
only Artemis remained in the library, meowing mournfully.

I landed with a thump before a campfire. I winced, and looked
around. In front of me were two men, obviously engaged in eating their
dinner. One was extremely blonde, with chiseled features and bright
blue eyes. The other had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and a
thin, almost girlish face. They were staring at me with unabashed
curiosity. Both had their hands on their swords, but obviously
recognized that I was no threat to them in the classical sense. A brisk
wind informed me why.
I blushed deeply. Of course I hadnÕt read the fine print, and in
typical Serena fashion I had embarrassed myself above and beyond the
call of duty.

I had landed in the middle of MamoruÕs camp, naked as Lady
Godiva.