Crossing

Void.

How could nothingness be so damned cold?

True, the Ethereal Void was not exactly "Nothing," but it was certainly as close as I'd ever come. I had only made this journey once before, and I was hesitant to make it again. The last time I had left my home shard I had barely managed to return in one piece.

A hastily scribed missive had lured me away from the realm of Atlantic the last time, to the aid of an old acquaintance I knew only through the carrier pigeons that brought me his writings. The quest to save Castile Elan had been long and arduous, made even more difficult by the fact that I was rendered as helpless as a neophyte after my journey through the Void. Truly, I had done little to aid in that quest aside from offer moral support, but I had been glad to see my friend restored at the end of it, and had returned home, cursing my new weakness, but eager to return to old friends.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover my strength and skill returned to me upon my return to Atlantic. It seemed that one must be "born" unto each shard he or she visits, but one's home remains always one's home, and my home remembered me well. I returned to my life among the LFE and Atlantic, thinking only occasionally on the friends I had made in the realm of Europa.

Until another missive reached my door.

The Void was pierced by a single dot of blue, impossibly small, and impossibly far away. Through pure force of will, I floated slowly towards the dot. In reality, this "reality" around me was merely a construct, a dream, a way of my brain interpreting the magical forces I had been reduced to, and moved among. There was no such thing as distance, or movement, here, but my "moving" was all part of the great magic I had woven hours before, before I fell unconscious and phased out of my own reality...

The spot moved closer - how I knew this I did not know; it changed not in size, or location, but nearer it came nonetheless. I willed myself speed and plunged headlong into a suddenly expanding circle of bright blue light...

----
The pigeon dropped the scroll upon my windowsill, and flew off before I could turn. I caught a brief view of tail feathers as it flew out of sight above the house, and I crossed to the window and grabbed up the rolled paper.

"Ey, wat dat?" grinned Gunthuk, looking up from the Chessboard.

"A message... by the virtues... it's stamped from Europa!"

"Yoo-row-pa? Dat de udder Urth?" I had spend many long hours one evening trying to explain the concept of the many shard-worlds of Britannia to Gunthuk, and although he didn't completely understand, I think he finally believed me. I had told him of my journey to Europa, and the search for Castile, and although he had never met the people I described, he grinned as he said: "Me tink dese humies be guud friends tu mi."

"Yes, the alternate shard of Britannia I visited before." I unrolled the paper, squinting in the poor light to read the intricate script.

"'Tis an invitation, to a party upon Europa! Many folk will be there... including... the Mongol tribe... I have never of this people. Interesting."

"Lat wan tu gu tu dis partee?"

"I may... it does sound like a fun time."

"Lat dun furget! Lat be lik babee when lat gu tu dat Urth!"

"Aye... I shall be weak again, as I was when I left. I shall leave at once, and spend the week practising, so I may be strong by the time of the party. Would you like to come? We could spar together."

Gunthuk looked at me as if I was daft. "MI nub wan tu gu in mojo pugdung gate!"

"Suit yourself" I laughed. "I'll go pack. I must leave at once!"

-----
The gate opened a good five feet above the ground. I had thought I had gotten this part right, but once again, my arrival upon the world of Europa commenced with a stomach churning drop, followed by a dull thud. I lay there, groaning. My clothes, armour, and all of my possessions were gone. I was dressed instead in the outfit I had been wearing the night I had left Europa. In my hands was the same rusty katana I had managed to scrounge enough gold together to buy. Most importantly, my spell book, and my sense of the surrounding Ether, were gone as well.

"Well, I'll just have to do this the hard way," I grumbled to myself. I pulled myself painfully to my feet, and hobbled off into the forest.

-----
The clearing was the same, but the houses were different. No sign remained of the Chapel of St. Francis. The entire clearing was now commanded by a collection of rude looking shacks and a small stone tower. Small tents lined the perimeter of the clearing, and horses lined pickets, being cared for by people unlike any I had seen before. They whispered among themselves, glaring at me. I caught the word "Han" more than once. It wasn't so much a hatred I detected from these people... and it was not fear either: it was more caution. This was a people who knew from experience to be wary of strangers in their midst, but who at the same time held no fear. Something that seemed almost defiant shone in their eyes. Enough travelling had given me a good eye for detail, and I saw the eyes of a well maintained camp.

The horses were well cared for, and I had the feeling of being not so much in a village, but a military camp. My thoughts were interrupted by a horseman who approached upon a powerfully built mare. He stared down at me severely, sizing up both my ability and perhaps my intention. I took the initiative. "Greetings!" I bowed low. "I apologise for intruding upon your camp... I came here looking for an old friend of mine, who once lived here. He was a monk of the Franciscan order..."

A look of recognition passed across the horseman's face, and he nodded, curtly. He replied in a mixture of Britannian, and another tongue I had not yet heard... even now I cannot reproduce his words perfectly, but the gist of his statement was: "The monk Castile is not here, I am Baga-Bars, acting Khan of this tribe."

I frowned, not familiar with this term. He smiled at my confusion. "I lead these people, until our Khan may be restored to us."

I nodded. Khan was obviously his word for leader. I thought to myself, silently, that this man was very young to have such responsibility upon his shoulders. I could see the lines of worry upon his brow; though he struggled to keep a facade of control and composure, he was obviously concerned, both for the fate of his people, and his own fate as leader. He continued speaking, "Our Khan was taken from us. His soul was taken, and he remains like a statue, in our Togson."

I blinked in shock. "His SOUL was taken?" What sort of dark magic could steal a person's soul?

"Yes, those filthy orghs. He fought with them, and many even now lie dead by his blade! But they worked some dark magic on him," (the word I remember him using was Buyu) "and now he is lost from us!"

A strange sense of deja-vu washed over me. The last time I had been to this realm had been in similar circumstances. I had to find Castile, and soon. He would certainly know something about such matters.

We talked for awhile, and I learned much of his people. They were called the Mongols, and were somehow not native to Britannia, coming instead from a different land, far away. From his description, it seemed as if they had arrived via a moongate, though I had never heard of his homeland. Their leader, this Khan, had united the various Mongol who had come to our land, and founded a new home for them here, in this clearing. From all that I was told, their leader was a great man, but with his loss, Baga-Bars had been forced to take on the leadership of his people. He was strong in his own right, and had done a good job so far, but there were too many unanswered questions.

I frowned inwardly as he recounted tales familiar to me: tales of orcs on the move, humans overcome by the strange fever of gold and lust, new humans painted with strange colours, and rumours of dark magic in the north. I thought of Gunthuk, back home, and wondered what he might think of this situation.

I hesitated to mention my half-orc friend to this Mongol. It was apparent that he, and his people, despised the orcs, perhaps more so than any humans I had met. They fought them viciously, and killed them wherever they found them. It had been orcish bodies they had found littered around the statuesque body of their Khan, on the day they had found him. He stood still, frozen in a battle stance where they had found him, though the bodies of the orcs, one with his blade still lodged in its bone, had been cleared away and burned.

We walked over to one of the tents, and continued our conversation. I felt a strong kinship with this warrior, and his people seemed to accept my presence, as long as their lord accepted it.

"I've never heard of orcish magic of that kind," I remarked to him. "I've never heard of it being so powerful."

Another rider, a female, had ridden up alongside us, and listened as we talked. She introduced herself as Idugan Aigeran, the Idugan Buyu (whatever that is) of her tribe. She nodded at my words, remarking that the orcs were too stupid to master such a powerful and dark spell. She seemed to think that a "han" had been behind it, and had tried to trick the Mongols by making the orcs look guilty.

"They think the Mongols are stupid, they try to trick us," she said.

I could tell that this was an old argument, because Baga-Bars immediately answered back, that the Khan had been surrounded by orcs, dead orcs at that, and they had been killed by his hand. The orcs had attacked, and at the same time as this strange condition befell him. She agreed, but still seemed to have her doubts. "This big bong buyu," she muttered.

This was definitely something that would interest Gunthuk, but I bit back my words. To bring up an orc, to even admit to friendship with him, or that he might help, would be to alienate myself from these noble warriors. I wanted to help them in some way, however I could.

Baga-Bars looked up, suddenly, in surprise. He told me to follow him, then apologised for forgetting, but he had not welcomed me properly. He took me into a small stone tower (not as good as their tents, a "han" dwelling, but it kept the rain off. Aigeran seemed to think this terribly funny.) There, he presented me with food, and drink. I started to decline, as I had no money to pay him with, but he suddenly looked embarrassed, almost offended, by the very idea. I realised that hospitality was a virtue to this people, and I took the food, thanking him for his generosity. We talked for many hours, getting to know each other, and when he found out that I could ride a horse, and had ridden on my homeworld, he left, making me promise to wait in the house where it was safe. He knew all too well the weakness of newcomers to this world, and I was glad for a safe haven. All the more I felt I had to do something to repay these people, for showing me such hospitality, though I was a stranger to them.

I pulled out a paper and began to write. I tried to sum up as best as I could what I knew of the situation. At the earliest opportunity I would have to find a mage to send this message to Gunthuk back on Atlantic...

Baga-Bars returned, and bid me come outside. It was quickly growing dark, and I watched the sun setting. He motioned me over to the edge of the clearing. I saw there a shape I knew well. I was speechless. He had brought me an "Agta," or a horse, another gift "Thank you," I said, turning back towards him and bowing low...

...I shot back upwards, turning back to the horse again. Impossible. The light was fading... I stepped closer.

It couldn't be...?

She gazed at me, a sardonic equine smile at the end of her long nose, the white patch on her forehead blazing brilliantly in the dying sunlight.

"STAR?!"

She nickered, and pranced slightly, side-stepping, then coming up to me.

How could she be here? How could she be alive?

She nudged me with her nose, impatiently. I swallowed hard, then swung myself up onto her back.

It was like putting on a pair of old pants, one that has moulded itself to fit perfectly after many years... at once we were as one creature, and she reared back, taking off at a gallop around the clearing. Tears stung my eyes from the wind whipping past... or perhaps something more. I felt once again the awesome power as her legs churned beneath us, driving us at lightning speed over the ground. We completed the circuit, and she came to a halt mere inches from a smiling Baga-Bars.

"This one fast! She good agta! Orghs want her for food, me kill them."

I smiled, scratching her between the ears. He grinned, then showed me where I could hitch and care for her properly. I reluctantly left her for the night, and she watched me as I left. I saw familiarity, remembrance, and what might have been amusement in her eyes, before she turned back to her hay.

Later that night, Baga-Bars and I sat, talking. He had looked embarrassed when I told him I wanted to help him and his people, to do whatever I could to unravel this mystery. He smiled finally though, and said I was good... for a han. I grinned back.

I told him the tale of my earlier adventure, with Castile, and was explaining why I had come. I pulled the invitation from my cloak. He stared, surprised, for a moment before pulling a scroll from his pack, and handed it to me. I unrolled it... and written therein was an almost exact copy of my own invitation.

The Mongols were going to this "han" gathering. Was fate stepping in, bringing us together for some higher purpose? Or were we being manipulated, perhaps by the same one behind these dark events of the last few months? Either way, I knew I could not leave Europa until I had unravelled this mystery, and I would not let my new friends down. I thought heavily on these things as I lay, awake upon my cot in the "han" tower, where I had been given a room to stay as long as I wished. My pack also burst with "altan" and I had been given a new weapon by my gracious hosts. I needed to do something in return to help.

"Yes," I thought grimly. "Gunthuk needs to be brought into this."

"...I only hope I can make them understand before they put his head on a stake..."

© 2001 Daniel Lustig