The In Between - 10. The Chimney

10 ~The Chimney~

Jordan woke up to someone shaking him and a warm voice next to his ear. "Wake up, blue eyes, I have something for you."

Jordan groaned in agitation, turning over in his warm cocoon of blankets. "I don't want it."

A bark of laughter, feminine in nature, had Jordan opening his eyes. He sat up, blinking.

"Right here," Brandon's voice, right next to him. "Listen. Anailde has some medicine that we have to put into your eyes. It's going to make you see better. All right?"

"Okay. What do I need to do?"

"Tilt your head back," Brandon instructed. Jordan did as he said and felt Brandon's hands on either side of his head, holding him in place, and began to feel a twinge of worry. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?" he asked.

"It will sting a little, yes," Anailde said. Jordan saw a large shape looming over him, then large fingers were prying his eyelids wide apart and a cool liquid drizzled into his right eye.

It didn't sting, it burned and Jordan's first instinct, to close his eyes and turn his face away, was thwarted by Brandon's hands on his head and Anailde's fingers keeping his eye pried open. After a few seconds, she released her hold and let Jordan blink several times before she held his left eye open and treated it in the same manner.

"There we go," Brandon said. "All done."

Jordan blinked several times, held his eyes shut for a moment, and then opened them again. His surroundings sharpened as if by magic and he saw everything with beautiful clarity. And the first thing he saw was Brandon's face, looking into his with worry.

"How are you doing?" Brandon asked.

"Fine," Jordan said. "I can see you."

Brandon smiled. "I hope I don't look too frightening."

"Not at all. A sight for sore eyes." Jordan said the words automatically, but after taking in Brandon's appearance with a critical eye, he discovered he meant it. Brandon looked well. His skin was a little dusky with a newly formed tan and there was a glowing type of energy about him. Whatever this place was, it was suiting Brandon very well.

"I'll be back to check on you," the large lady said, exiting the room.

"That's the lady that's been taking care of me," Jordan guessed.

"Yeah."

"Anna kill lady or something like that."

"Anailde. She's the one that found you and she knows medicine, thank God," Brandon said. "How are you feeling? Seriously?"

"Much better," Jordan said. "Stronger."

"Good," Brandon said, and leaned over to give him a quick, strong kiss. Jordan smiled.

"I've missed that," Brandon said.

"Me, too," Jordan said. He readjusted himself so he was sitting more comfortably in bed. "So fill me in. What's been going on? What is this place like? Who lives in this house? Who-"

"Hold on, hold on. One question at a time." Brandon reached into his knapsack on the floor, pulled out his sketchbook and passed it over. He and Jordan knew that his sketches would answer better than any words would.

Jordan looked through them. A drawing of the large lady, a small girl by her side. Several other women he didn't recognize, busy pulling up crops and tying together bunches of plants. Several sketches of a field with a stone column spearing the sky. "What is this?" Jordan asked, pointing to one of the drawings.

"That is what the locals call the Sacred Place. I call it The Chimney, but I think this might have been our entryway to this place. Remember how I told you I found the doorway in the fireplace?"

Jordan nodded.

"It opened up into the field that is right out back," Brandon continued. "And we didn't go too far before we landed on Anailde's property. So if this place got us here, this place can get us back."

"To the In Between maybe. But I don't know how it will get us back to Earth."

"Then we will think of something else. But I think there is something going on with that place, something powerful. According to Anailde's daughter, the locals fear that place."

"And people also flock to a village in Mexico because of a tortilla chip shaped like the Virgin Mary."

"You have a better idea?" Brandon asked. Jordan could hear the bite of frustration in his words and felt a little ashamed.

"No," Jordan said, quiet and humble.

"Okay. I haven't managed to get to it yet, because Anailde forbids anyone into the fields. There's some kind of wild animal out there. But I'll sneak away someday soon and check it out. There's something else I want you to see."

He held up a coin that gleamed gold in the mellow light from the lamps. Jordan took it put the sketchbook down to take it. A scythe and a sheaf of wheat on one side, representing a society built on agriculture. And on the other side-

"Holy," Jordan breathed, turning it in his fingers. "Where did you get this?"

"Anailde's position is mainly barterer. She trades her medicine and stuff for anything she needs and she helped most members of the village recover from some ailment or another and they give her a credit of some kind. But a few vendors use currency. Maralya, Ana's little one, had a coin, so I made a trade."

"What did you give her?"

Brandon smiled and looked sheepish. "A nickel. She had never seen one before so she thought it was the greatest thing ever. I'll give it back. But anyway, pretty weird, huh?"

"Yeah," Jordan replied. The woman on the other side of the coin wasn't an exact replica of Leia; she was too full in the face, her features a little too rounded to match Leia entirely. But the similarities were still eerie. "Who is this?"

"They have a goddess. The queen, who takes the throne, is chosen by how strongly she resembles her. It's a monarchy, the Queen rules all."

"And you think Leia is their queen?"

"Let me tell you some interesting things," Brandon said. "Anailde calls her the Queen Goddess, and according to her, the Queen's...subjects are to accommodate Outworlders in any way they can. That's why Anailde is taking care of us."

"I see," Jordan said slowly. "I wonder if this is a fairly new mandate. I also wonder how many 'Outworlders' have been passing through here recently."

"I asked," Brandon admitted, "but she wouldn't tell me. But from what I've heard from her, we aren't the first."

"So maybe that chimney thing is the only way to pass through this place. If they've had to come through here."

Brandon nodded. "Anailde has also said that she's treated whatever it was that you've had before." Brandon paused for a moment. He was sitting Indian style at the foot of Jordan's cot and he rocked back and forth a little. "What happened?" he finally asked. "You were fine right before we left."

"Void sickness," Jordan said.

Brandon repressed a shudder. Even the name sounded bad. "What is that?" he asked.

"Whenever someone Enables, no matter who it is, they have to cross the Void. It's a bit difficult to explain, but the Void is the absence of everything, the empty space that exists between realities. When you Reverse Enable, its effect is a little bit stronger."

"I don't understand."

"When you Enable normally, the way we did before coming here, the Void is there. You're reaching out over it to shift through another reality to bring something over. But it doesn't affect you, because you are still anchored to your own reality. So you are just bringing something over into the reality where you exist. It's easy. But when you Reverse Enable, you leave your reality to go into an unknown. So you have nothing to hold onto. That's why crossing the Void is so much harder and why Reverse Enabling is so dangerous."

"Why did it make you sick? And not me?"

"You're not affected by the Void, Brandon. You're not an Enabler. You're just a passenger that got brought along on the ride. But I am the one bringing us over, so I get affected."

"And what does it do?"

Jordan shrugged. "If you make it over the Void successfully, it just scrambles your circuits pretty bad for a while. Unconsciousness and lack of vision are not uncommon."

"What happens if you don't make it over the Void successfully?"

"We don't know," Jordan said.

"This...Void sickness, did you know this was going to happen?"

"I knew that it would probably affect me to some degree."

"And you didn't want to fucking enlighten me on this before we crossed over? You scared the hell out of me."

"I didn't think it would make a difference," Jordan said.

"Not make a difference?" Brandon said softly. "Of course it would have made a difference. I want to find Leia, you know that, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to risk you in the process."

"I know that," Jordan said calmly. "But I had committed myself to doing this. I didn't want you to think I was offering up excuses or anything-"

"Stop," Brandon stood up. "Just shut up and stop talking. You're pissing me off."

Jordan sat there while Brandon paced back and forth a few times. Then Brandon stood and knelt down next to the bed where Jordan sat. "I love you," Brandon said and saw Jordan's eyes widen fractionally. It was the first time he had said the words to Jordan's face, and they felt good coming out of his mouth, like there was something loosening up in his chest, and it felt incredible. "And that means that I trust you. If you are going to tell me that we're going to cross over, then I believe you. If you tell me it's going to hurt you to cross over, I will believe you on that, too. But it's hard for me to trust you when you withhold stuff from me. It's the same as lying, baby. So just...don't, okay. If there is something going on that is going to affect you or me, I need to know about it. Don't keep stuff from me, that's not what teams do."

"This isn't the kind of stuff you should have to deal with," Jordan countered. "It only affects Enablers."

"Bullshit. It involves you, so it involves me, too." Brandon tapped Jordan on the head lightly. "I think this fever has fried your brain a little bit. Because anything that you have to deal with, I have to deal with, too. I had to drag your ass out of that room, remember? So don't try to act like we're not on an equal standing here. I'll be strong for you when you need me to be and you do the same for me, remember?"

"I remember. Sorry."

Brandon leaned forward, tilted his head and kissed Jordan softly, a hand coming up to cup the back of Jordan's head carefully. He pulled away after just a moment. "So we're good, right?"

Jordan nodded. "Yeah."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"Reverse Enabling is dangerous, but you already know that. But if we Enable back, it should be easier."

"When we Enable back."

Jordan gave him an uncertain, searching glance. "I'll find a way," Brandon reassured him. "Don't worry." He leaned forward and pressed a light, chaste kiss against Jordan's neck. "Get well, blue eyes, I've been missing you."

That afternoon, Anailde gave permission for Jordan to get up and walk around, so Brandon took him outside in the shade of the herb garden, an arm around his waist for support, to let him look around. Jordan spent a lot of time staring at the field and the chimney rising amongst the blades of grass.

"This place is a lot like Earth," Jordan finally said. "Even those blades of grass. They remind me of corn stalks."

"I guess so," Brandon said, who had never seen a corn stalk in his life. "But that makes sense."

Jordan nodded. "This is Keith's world. He knew he would be spending some time here, so he wanted to make sure it was stable. Therefore, he depended on things he knew, based it on our world. A different sky could give the air a different mix of chemicals, make it unbreatheable. I'm sure there are differences somewhere, but for an entry point, it's similar to Earth. It's smart."

"Well, the guy is a creep, but he's not stupid," Brandon murmured. He wrapped his arms more securely around Jordan, more for comfort at this point than support. "This is different, though; this place is rural, basic. No modern technology, no modern medical advances. They know nothing of planes, automobiles, even washing machines. That gives him an advantage, especially if he is able to bounce back and forth in between worlds."

"While he has Leia sitting on the throne of this one," Jordan said. "We need to find out what he is using to control her."

"Intimidation," Brandon suggested. "He's proved time and time again that he has no problem hurting people. Or she could be doing this under her own volition. But it's not likely. I doubt she would feel any responsibility to these people."

"Too many unanswered questions," Jordan agreed. "We look for Leia and then figure out what's going on once we find her."

"Agreed," Brandon said. "The Queen is stationed in the Inner City. It's not far from here, I was told. A couple of days walk by foot."

"Where exactly is here? And the Inner City? We need a map or something."

"Anailde has one in her workstation. I can make a copy," Brandon said. "But regardless, we need to wait until you are stronger. We'll be traveling by foot, and you need to make sure you're up to that before we take off."

"Yes, Mummy."

Brandon kissed him. "Don't get smart."

"It'll be hard to resist if I get a reward like that every time."

Brandon sat at the edge of the field, his sketchbook in hand. He was drawing The Chimney and had noted with concern that his sketchbook was beginning to fill up with quite a lot of them, but he couldn't stop drawing it. It was like a compulsion, the same impulse that put the pencil to paper whenever he thought of Leia or Keith or Jordan. Whenever something caught his mind, it kept his mind, and when it occupied his mind, it filled up his sketchbook until his hand was able to empty it. He stood up and put his sketchpad away, then returned to the field, staring at it for a long time before stepping into the long stalks of grass.

"Outworlder! Outworlder!" He could hear Maralya's desperate cries and a few seconds later she latched skinny arms around his own and tried to pull him back. "Stop! I told you the fields are off limits!"

"Why?"

"I told you. The cats..."

"Have you seen these hooping cats?"

"Well, no, but-"

"How do you know it's not a just a story to keep you and other children from wandering off into the fields and getting lost?"

"Anailde does not lie."

"Everybody lies. I'm going in there and you can't stop me."

Maralya, however, still tried to pull him back and would not release his arm. So he walked forward determinedly, forcing her to either let go and remain where she was, or follow him deep into the fields. She followed.

He continued walking. The tall blades of grass blocked out his peripheral vision, so it was like walking in a sea of green color. Odd and a little unsettling, but not as claustrophobic as he thought it might be. He walked deeper and deeper into the field of green. He knew he should be worried about getting lost and finding his way back, but in a strange way, he had never felt more confident. He remembered something Jordan had once told him about intuition.

Being psychic is all about feeling, Brandon. It's like... gut instincts or déjà vu and all that stuff.

That was what was leading Brandon now, an instinct, a little pull that showed his feet which way to go, and he moved almost soundlessly through the stalks of grass, Maralya stumbling and trembling behind him. He wished she hadn't followed him. He didn't mind getting in trouble, but he had a feeling Maralya would be in for a stronger punishment for disobeying Anailde's orders and accompanying him in here.

It felt like he had been walking for forever. The high grass was blocking out a lot of sounds and he felt oddly cool despite the sun still high in the sky. His senses felt kicked up a notch; he could smell the richness of the earth, the clean scent of grass, the faint feminine scent on his shirt, which had borrowed from Anailde. He could taste the moisture in the air, signaling an incoming rain that would start in a few hours. He could feel the slight give of dirt underneath his feet and could hear Maralya's shoes scraping against the ground. And under all that was a thrum, a pull, something calling to him, urging him forward. The Chimney, the Sacred Place.

It was looming over them now, spearing up into the impossibly bright, whitewashed sky, outlined by the golden fire of the sun, making it burn his eyes to look at it. They were close and Brandon found himself approaching it with a quickly growing sense of awe in his stomach. He could hear Maralya's breathing quicken and something inside him, pulsing in time with his heart, pulling him forward, calling him with a growing intensity.

Brandon, Brandon, Brandon...

"Something is calling my name," Maralya whispered.

"I know," Brandon said. "That's okay."

"I'm scared."

"Don't be," Brandon whispered. "We're close."

There was an audible gasp from Maralya and a sharp tug on his wrist. He turned to her impatiently, the call inside him almost impossible to resist any further, and saw her looking at something with wide eyes and it wasn't The Chimney. He followed her gaze and saw a pair of flat, yellow eyes gleaming out from the field, a low growl vibrating in the air. Then something in the grasses shifted and Brandon hear a sound that chilled his blood, a high pitched, whooping call that echoed along the fields.

His instincts didn't whisper to him this time, they screamed and Brandon took off running, dragging Maralya behind him. He could hear the rustle of grass and knew that the cat was following. After just a few steps, he could feel Maralya lagging, hampering him and impatiently scooped her up and ran, digging his feet into the ground for purchase. He ran blind, counting on the part of his mind not engaged in the flight or fight response to lead him in the right direction. He was panting, his lungs and his legs burning, his arms straining from taking Maralya's weight.

He could see the top of Anailde's dwelling beyond the remaining stalks of grass and felt a jolt of relief. He was almost there, and didn't Maralya say that the hooping cats didn't go past the fields? He guessed he was able to run pretty well once he had the proper moti-

The chilling cry right behind him was his only warning and he went down without even thinking, clutching Maralya against his chest and curling his body down over hers as the cat attacked.

At the first swipe of claws across his back, Brandon didn't even register the pain, just heat, a deep intense heat spreading across his skin. A second swipe, some crossing the original marks, brought the pain forward.

The pain was ripe and poisonous, like nothing he had ever felt before. It was so intense and powerful that it took his breath away and he felt himself grow lightheaded and weak. He was going to die. He was going to die here, torn apart by these angry claws with Maralya's frightened screams in his ears as the last sound he ever heard.

His pain saturated brain only dimly registered an odd thwacking sound and the pained whimpers of an injured animal, then heavy footsteps rustling through the undergrowth.

"Maralya! Maralya!" He heard Anailde's voice with a bright edge of panic he had never heard before. Brandon forced himself to unlock his arms and Maralya crawled out of them, ran towards Anailde, sobbing.

A few minutes later, Anailde's hands were on his face, lifting it up. "Outworlder," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "Can you hear me?"

Brandon could, but he couldn't get his lips to form an answer. A few seconds later, she was picking him up, taking care of his back, and hoisting him up over her shoulder like he weighed nothing. The pain gave a thunderous roar and he vomited all over Anailde's back. It kept building and building, a screaming crescendo, and filled Brandon's mind until he couldn't even remember his own name.

The next thing he knew, he was resting on his side on a cot, Jordan there with him and Anailde was telling him to open his mouth. Brandon mindlessly complied, letting her press some tablets into his mouth and washed them down with a drink whose flavor would have been offensive under any other circumstances.

"That's for pain," Anailde said. "I'm going to get some of my girls in here to sew you up."

"Sew?" Jordan asked, echoing Brandon's own sentiments.

"The scratches along the middle of his back are fairly shallow. Good for his spine. The outer ones are a bit deeper. We sew them up. If he goes to a higher healer near the city, they might be able to relieve him of scars and pain, but right now we do all we can. We can't leave them open, he'll get infection for sure."

Jordan knew in a world as rural as this one, an infection pretty much equaled death. Brandon sighed and wanted to scream again. Instead he closed his eyes. "Don't leave me, blue eyes."

"I won't," Jordan promised. "I'll stay right here."

True to his word, Jordan not only stayed, crouched at the head of the bed where he was out of the way, holding Brandon's hand, but he also opened up their psychic connection, nudging gently at Brandon until he connected. Jordan couldn't feel his pain, but could hear it through their link, and it made his own back ache in sympathy.

The medicine that Anailde had given Brandon had started to ease the pain slightly, but when the two women started to clean and close up his scratches, it felt like his skin was being torn up all over again.

Jordan did everything he could to help Brandon, but none of his efforts, physical or psychic, could hold up to the pain those wounds inflicted. Afterwards, he sat near Brandon, gently stroking his sweaty hair. It was as much to comfort himself as it was to soothe Brandon.

"You know they had to do that," Jordan said softly.

"I know."

"You were very brave."

"Do I get a cookie now?" Despite the bitter sarcasm in his words, Jordan had to laugh. He was a little relieved to see Brandon keeping up his sense of humor. He had a feeling they both would need it.

"I'll get you one after dinner," Jordan promised.

Brandon smiled weakly. "I don't deserve one. I brought this upon myself."

"No you didn't. You didn't ask to be attacked."

"I knew there were cats out in those fields. I knew it was dangerous. And not only did I venture out there anyway, I allowed Maralya to accompany me. I put her in danger as well as myself."

"And you protected her. At the cost of your own well being."

"I shouldn't have been out there."

"You didn't know."

"I assume too much here. Charion is for those who suffer."

Jordan frowned. "Who did you hear that from?"

"Nobody. It's just the truth."

Jordan kissed his forehead. "Get some sleep, baby."

"Don't leave."

"Never."