22.   A Shadow Walker.

 

I might do you a great disservice showing you the magic.  Apparently Fiona had been uncharacteristically straightforward when she had said that.  He really wanted to see a nymph riding a unicorn.  So damned close, and now he had to turn around.  That was not how his luck usually ran...  Well, it happened from time to time, but the end result was even better, come to think of it.  In any case, he would play the hand he had been dealt, even if it was not the game he had planned on playing – actually it was not too far off.  He was a hero besieged by an evil sorceress and her vile minions.  That part was exciting enough, although he would have preferred slightly better odds.  He could hit a split strait with a single draw three out of four tries, but there always was that 4th time, and this might be one of those cases, so, a slight detour was in order.

 

First to get rid of the tragolith, whatever that might be.  Most probably the ring Jasra had given him.  He  knew the other things were Trumps, so it was a decent bet that the silly thing was the tragolith – whatever the hell a tragolith was – especially since she had been so insistent about it.  Of course, he did not want to lose it in case it was something useful, and a safety deposit box seemed out of the question...  Or was it?    Perhaps he could find a safety deposit box... under that rock...  A bit of concentration and a kick of his boot and under the rock it was – a supergirl lunchbox.  Not what he was thinking of precisely, but good enough for a first try.  Now, drop the silly ring in the lunchbox, put the rock back carefully, and mark the position on his GPS for easy retrieval... or not... G PS was apparently not very useful on a Shadow Walk, since he was rather obviously not in Singapore, no matter what the readout claimed.  He would just have to memorize the location and trust his luck and direction sense to get him back to it.

 

And then he needed advice.  And obviously from another Shadow Walker.  Just as obviously, Jasra was a bad choice, since she had been even less honest then the others.  Bleys was an ass, Brand would want to kill him for certain.  Elektra was still under sedation most probably.  That left Scarlett, Fiona, and, perhaps that Merlin character, he had read in the Scarlett’s book about.  Of course many others were named in the book too, but of those not dead or missing, Merlin seemed like the best choice for some reason.  The only problem was that Ambrose had no idea as to his current whereabouts.  Strangely enough, Flora was not mentioned at all in the book, or perhaps he had missed it, who knows.  In any case, Fiona was almost certain to be pissed, and Scarlett might be as well, so perhaps he should cross his fingers and seek that Merlin fellow.  The book said that he had used to make home in San Francisco, perhaps he still might be found there…

 

But it did not really matter – he was not getting anywhere.  Whichever direction he went and whatever changes he attempted in Shadow, after a few hours of wandering through the wilderness he inevitably returned to the same place where he had hidden the tragolith.  Like he was locked in some kind of a Shadow pocket.  Perhaps that evil Jasra he had been warned about could somehow prevent him from traveling without the blue stone.

 

After a couple days of going in circles, he considered his options.  He could retrieve the tragolith hoping that he would be let out then.  But where would he go anyway?  San Francisco did not seem like such a good idea any more.  Even if he somehow found Merlin, what would he say to him?  He could try one of the places depicted on the Trumps he had received from Jasra, but of course that was exactly what she expected him to do.  He could try to contact a man on that other Trump she had given him.  A large blond man in a green doublet and a black cloak lined with an emerald green, with a heavy circular medallion of gold bearing a Lion rending a Unicorn.  The man did not really look like he could be anyone’s minion, yet he did not inspire much confidence either.

 

He muttered a curse and decided to trust his luck.  First he regained the annoying ring, then he shuffled the trumps and drew whichever one ‘felt helpful’.  Actually he tried it quite a few times and the blond man came up seven times in a row.  Finally he flipped them over and just picked the big ominous place – a fortress surrounded by high dark walls, standing on pocked, cracked and steaming land.  Truth be told, he was sick of mysterious forces dictating his actions.  At first he put up with it to learn magic, but it was getting utterly ridiculous.  Since he could not do what he wanted, he might as well start confronting these people, so that they would become known factors.  With that thought in mind he concentrated on the Trump.

 

The wind was hash and whining and coming down from the broken heights above Ambrose.  He was about halfway up a massive stone hillside, on a narrow trail curving off to his right and back among some standing stones.  Far down and to his left was a bright blue and very troubled body of water.  Before him and below was a poked, cracked and steaming land which trembled periodically as it swept for over a mile toward the high dark walls of an amazingly huge and complex structure.  He had no idea that he was standing in about the same place from which Merlin had had his first sight of the Keep of the Four Worlds a little less than half a century ago.  Nothing seemed to change since those times, except…

 

There was a flying machine descending and approaching fast.  Of course, it did not take long for a Shadow Earth dweller to recognize it.  Ambrose raised his arms to his head to somehow shield his face from the wind as a medium-size helicopter hovered over his head.  There did not seem to be any time to marvel – he was obviously expected to climb inside using a short rope ladder, which had been just thrown to him.  So he did and was pulled in by a medium build middle-aged man wearing a white lab coat over the shirt and tie so common to the middle class of Shadow Earth.  On his nose there were glasses with overthick lenses; the man would obviously be blind without them.  The man leaned very close to Ambrose shaking his hand and screaming into his ear over the roar of the engine.

 

“Right on time!  I’m Professor Wiggins, Chief of Research!  Thought I’d meet you personally!  Welcome to the Keep!”

 

In for a penny, in for a pound.  “I always try and be prompt.  Is there anything I should know before we arrive?”

 

“We shall arrive momentarily!”  Wiggins screamed in Ambrose’s ear.  “Your lab and staff are ready, doctor, and I’m sure you’ll find everything no less satisfactory than in Geneva!  But that’s tomorrow!  Today – rest!

 

The flight did not take long time, indeed, and they were already landing on a flat roof of a five-story structure, obviously brand new and looking completely out of place next to the old dark citadel.  It reminded Ambrose of telephone company buildings – concrete and steel, almost no windows.  No further words were exchanged while Ambrose followed Wiggins down a staircase, along a hall to an elevator, down in the elevator, along another long hall, and finally into a suite of rooms indistinguishable from those of the fine Shadow Earth hotels to which he was so accustomed.  Bright electric lights, humming of an air-conditioner.  

 

“Your suite, doctor.  I hope you’ll find everything to your liking.  Regrettably the queen can’t receive you at this time.  We...hmm… have a kind of emergency on our hands.  So I’m afraid I must take my leave too.”

 

With these words, Wiggins started down the hall, almost running, leaving Ambrose in somewhat bewildered state.  It was apparent by now that he was mistaken for someone else.  But what was he to do about it?  And what would happen when that someone else would finally show up?

BACK               HOME               TABLE OF CONTENTS2               NEXT