Durch Ferne Welten und Zeiten - 4. Chapter 4: Barrone—Second Meetup

Chapter 4: Barrone—Second Meetup

The five were first in the bath, but had barely finished their showers and gotten into the hot soak when others began arriving. The first were a boy and a tween, who washed one another as would very close companions, best friends, lovers. When they got into the tub, Petrus introduced them as Marty and Chandler.

“Petrus, you’re dying to tell Marty and Chandler something, and it’s probably about us,” Kevin said. “Is it all right, Andy?”

Andy nodded. “I see no reason to keep your origins secret from the boys at the college; they should know not to gossip about it outside the walls.”

Not quite sure what they were about to be told, Marty and Chandler nodded.

Petrus clapped his hands in excitement. “Mark and Kevin came from another world, like you did. They came here through a gate that Rudy made!”

“Rudy! Is he back?” Marty asked. “We’ve been worried about him. Chandler and I knew him before, you know. Before he became an apprentice.”

There was a long silence. Then Mark spoke. “We don’t know if he’s back. We think he came back to World through the gate, but we don’t know where it took him. Kevin and I followed only a few minutes behind, perhaps only a few seconds, but the gate had drifted. We arrived in Carter. We don’t know where or when Rudy might have arrived.”

“Where are you from?” Chandler asked.

“_________, Georgia, USA, Earth,” Mark answered.

“And you met Rudy, there?”

Kevin nodded.

“Marty and I are from California. There is a Georgia in our world; is there a California in yours?”

“Huh? Yes—” Mark began, before three more boys finished their showers and walked toward the hot soak.

“It’s going to get right busy, soon,” Petrus said. “They’re going to stay in our dorm,” he added for Marty and Chandler’s benefit. “Maybe we can get the whole story, tonight?”

That evening, Kevin and Mark sat, arms around one another, on a bed with Petrus and two very strange boys: Marty and Chandler. “Why did you ask in the bath if there was a California in our world?” Kevin asked.

“I think,” Chandler said, “that there is only one World—this one—but that there is more than one Earth—the one we’re from, and others like it, but not always the same. We have found proof that there are at least two.

“You know that Rudy wrote a book, The Book of Heroes?” Chandler added.

Kevin and Mark nodded. “We’ve read some of the stories from it,” Mark said. “On the co . . . on the co . . .

“Wow! I can’t say it. That’s so cool!”

“On a device that held stories and pictures and could do arithmetic and other things?” Marty asked. Computer, he thought although he could not say it, either.

Mark nodded, and then continued. “We agreed not to talk about the stories, because we’re afraid some of them might be future stories, and we don’t want to mess up the future. Not all the stories have a happy ending. Most of them are happy except like when Thom died and that’s okay to talk about, because it was in the past.”

“It’s a good idea not to talk too much about the stories, except the ones we know have already happened,” Chandler said. “A boy we knew had a copy of the book. We read some of it. There were stories about other people traveling from Earth to World, but not all of their Earths were the same.

“There was also a story about us—Marty and me—that we read after it happened but before it could possibly have been written. If we had read it before, I don’t know if it would ever have happened.”

“Huh?” Kevin said.

“The story told how we—kind of accidentally—got here. There were some rough times, and some unhappy times—and a war,” Marty said. He looked at Chandler, whose hand he held. “It’s, okay—really, more than okay—now, but if we’d known, we probably wouldn’t have . . . ”

“A war? How long have you guys been here?” Mark asked.

“This time, a few months; the first time, over a hundred years,” Chandler replied.

“Huh?” Kevin asked.

“Well,” Chandler began, “there was this renaissance faire . . .”

The next morning, Andy left for the docks before the others were awake. “He’ll supervise the unloading of the cedar,” Billy told the others when they woke.

“Shouldn’t we be there to help?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of work when he gets back.” Billy turned to Petrus. “They can’t bring the pallets in the front door. Where will they be delivered?”

Petrus took the boys through the stables to the rear gate, and offered to bring breakfast while they waited.

It was Petrus and Master Criticus, accompanied by Master Jerome, who brought tea and toasted bread just minutes before six wagons arrived. Andy jumped from the first. Only after the pallets had been put into a storeroom and Andy had paid the drovers, did Criticus speak.

“Master Jerome is our librarian,” Criticus said. “It was he who rescued so many books from the library in Demand, before that city was taken by the Dark. I told him Andy had said he had books from that city.”

“They had been brought to Arcadia, and entrusted to my master, Cadfael,” Andy said. “The boys who consigned them were very clear that they were to be safeguarded, and delivered only to Master Jerome or the Senior Master. They paid rather handsomely for this service.”

Petrus gasped. Gary! That was Arthur and Gary. “Did you see Gary?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Petrus. The books were delivered while I was away. I’m afraid I know nothing of who brought them, except what I said.”

“You’re sad,” Kevin and Billy said at the same instant. “Why?” Kevin added.

“My friend . . . he was one of the boys who had the books,” Petrus said. “He left, months ago. I was hoping there might be a message from him.”

Letter from Gary

Taking the cedar off the pallets was like opening a puzzle box, revealing the concealed cases of books. “These two are from Demand,” Andy said. “These three are from Carter—the Duke’s library—and these three, from the Prince’s library. These four were sent to Carter by someone in Londonium.”

“I’ll start with the ones from Demand,” Master Jerome said. “I am already familiar with those books; they will be easiest to catalogue.”

It was mid-afternoon when Marty interrupted Petrus in the alchemic lab. “Can you stop, safely?” Marty asked. “Master Jerome would like you to come to the library.”

Petrus nodded. “I’ve not started mixing, yet; everything is stable until the next step. Sure.”

“Master?” Petrus stood across a table from Master Jerome. Jerome peered around a stack of books.

“Ah, Petrus. This was between two books in the middle of the crate. It has your name on it.” He handed the boy a letter. Petrus stared at the writing: Petrus, College of Magic, Barrone.

“A letter—” He gasped. “It must be, oh I hope it is! Thank you, Master!”

The letter was, indeed, from Gary. Petrus read it again and again, until he had memorized it.

I am as free as Nature first made man
When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
—John Dryden, c. 1670 CE Earth Analogue III

My beloved Petrus,

I hope that you are well and happy. I am well, as are Arthur, George, and Larry. I am happy with my companions, although I miss you. We have arrived in Arcadia (the city) with Master Jerome’s books, after an exciting trip. There is further adventure and excitement awaiting us, and you must tell Master Criticus about it.

A few weeks after leaving Barrone, we heard two great disturbances in the magical field. The first was pure, and Arthur thought it was the sound of some great Good. The second was discordant, and George, who is better at understanding noise in the magical field, is sure it was the sound of some great Evil being unleashed. Arthur speaks of balance, with the Evil being unleashed in response to the Good.

When we reached Arcadia, we learned of what is being called The Restoration of the MacLachlan. A group of adventurers defeated a false baron and his forces, and put the real baron (who is also a duke, in some of the stories) back on his throne in a mountain castle. All the stories agree that a great deal of magic was released in the process. Given the date and direction, that was undoubtedly the first sound we heard.

We cannot be sure where the Evil sound came from; however, George and Arthur have poured over the maps in their journals, and have agreed that it likely came from somewhere in the western marches of Arcadia, or, perhaps, on the other side of the mountains that mark the western border.

We’ve talked about this, and we believe that because we heard the second sound, the Evil sound, we should seek it out, find out what it is, and destroy it. We do not think we will have to look very hard to find it.

Arthur has found someone trustworthy who will send the books to the college, and has said that I might include this letter. He also said I should relate another story, and that you might tell it to the others of our friends at the college.

We had recovered the books, and were traveling north on the Royal Road. George had led us to a glade through which ran a small stream. The stream formed a shallow pond near the center of the glade. The water in the stream and pond were gray with silt. “It’s from the clay,” George said. “It will be clear not far up the hill,” he added. “It flows over rocks, there. Do you want help with those?” he asked. I had collected our water bottles.

“No, I’ve got them,” I said. “I’ll let you know if there’s a place big enough to bathe.”

I was bending over the spring, filling a water bottle, when I heard a heavy thud behind me. Startled, I dropped the water bottle, turned, and drew my dagger. Not three feet from me, lying face down, was a man with an arrow protruding from his back, just below the left shoulder blade. The man’s body jerked once before his sword fell from a dead hand to clatter against a rock. I scanned the trees that surrounded the clearing. There! A boy, carrying a bow with another arrow nocked, stepped toward me.

The boy was wearing only a dark green, sleeveless tunic, belted at the waist, and moccasins. His bare arms and legs, and his face were brown from the sun. Green eyes shone below sun-streaked brown hair. Had he not wanted me to see him, I would not have.

The boy spoke first. “He would have killed you, and that would have been wrong.”

I slowly bent down and put my dagger on the moss. Showing empty hands, I addressed the boy. “My name is Gary. Thank you for saving my life.”

“Will you swear not to hurt me?” the boy asked.

“Yes, I do swear not to hurt you,” I replied.

“Honor bright?” the boy reiterated his request.

“Honor bright,” I replied.

“Your name is Gary? My name is June Bug,” the boy said. “Why are you here? You are not Evil like the men are.”

“I travel with my companions to Arcadia. Will you come with me to meet them?” I asked.

“There is no need,” June Bug answered, his voice suddenly tight with fear. “They are here. Remember, you promised not to hurt me.”

Arthur stepped into the clearing from the east; Larry stepped from behind a tree on the west; George appeared in the south. Their weapons were sheathed.

“You have no need to fear us; we are Gary’s companions, and honor his promises,” Arthur said. “Are there others nearby who would harm you or us?”

“His cohort is beyond two hills, that way,” June Bug said, indicating the north. “I don’t know where he was going, but I tracked him for nearly five miles after he left the others.”

George helped me roll the body on its back after June Bug had removed his arrow. “What’s that inside his tunic?” George asked.

Neither June Bug nor I were anxious to touch the body again, so George reached inside the man’s tunic. He removed a leather pouch. Opening the pouch, he whistled, “These are beautiful!”

The others crowded to see. The pouch contained two faceted, red, transparent stones. They were about the size of the ball of George’s thumb, and looked to be twins.

“Rubies,” Larry said, after squinting at them.

“Corundum, all right,” I said, in turn. Larry and I exchanged silly grins at having given two names for the same thing.

“The rubies are yours,” George said, holding them out to June Bug.

“I don’t want them,” the boy said, recoiling. “I don’t want anything of his.”

“George will hold them for now,” Arthur said. “If this man has friends, they may miss him—or the rubies. We’d better go. Cover your tracks. June Bug, please come with us to our camp.”

*****

“A band of Brigands attacked the town last week. Some of them were killed, but several—we don’t know how many—escaped into the woods. I live in the woods most of the time. They can’t see me; they can’t hear me. No one can see or hear me unless I want them to,” June Bug explained. “I found their camp and followed the one, as I said. I saw him raise his sword as he crept toward Gary, and I could see the Evil in his soul. I could see its darkness swirling around him and then vanishing as he died.”

The boy’s voice had become bitter. “Why is it my lot to kill them?”

None of us had an answer.

We accompanied June Bug to his village, Nut Grove, where we stayed the night with June Bug’s family. June Bug was uncomfortable, however. When we left the next morning, he went back into the woods. To patrol for enemies, he said.

The cleric and reeve looked at the rubies, and then asked us to take them to Arcadia to be turned over to the authorities, there. We did so, and a reward was sent to June Bug’s family.

Please tell our friends that we are well, and that we remember them. I will remember you, forever. If I do not see you again in this life, I will look for you in another.

Gary, Son of Mastersmith Edgar of Bowling Green

Barrone

Patrus shared the story with his master and the boys, and slept with a smile on his face.

It was several days later when the bell attached to the rope at the front desk rang, the single ring that indicated the need for a messenger—or that the boy on the desk needed to piss. Mark was closest to the door, so he responded.

“It’s a letter for Master Criticus,” Ethan said. “Oh, and while you’re here, I need to piss, okay?”

Mark nodded. He sat at the desk and looked at the letter. It was parchment, folded and sealed. The image in the wax looked like a wagon wheel. Written on the outside was, “Criticus, College of Magic, Barrone.” No Zip Code, Mark thought, and then giggled.

The letter was not for Criticus, after all. Inside was a second letter, addressed to Andy. Andy read the letter, and then whistled.

“It’s from Cadfael,” he said. He wants us to stay in Barrone for a while, set up a trading post and warehouse, and an import-export business, to include trade with Eblis.”

He looked at the boys. “You know what that really means, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Billy said. “Expand the spy network, and spy on Eblis!”

“And,” Mark said, “it means that we’ve got to move out of the college. It’s already taken an awfully long time to sell them cedar.”

“Maybe not,” Andy said, and then grinned. “You see, Master Criticus wants the cedar, all of it. And, he wants it installed in the library to protect books from insects. And, he wants more for a second, hidden library. How are you guys at working with your hands?”

“Huh?” came from Billy, Mark, and Kevin.

“Part of the deal is that we install it: saw it to length, fasten it down. Not hard, but tedious. It’ll take at least a month. By that time, people will be accustomed to seeing us around here. And, the warehouse just outside of the door? The owner has space to let. I think it would be a fine place to open an import-export business.”

Things are perfect, Mark thought, and then, too perfect. I’m afraid.

Chapter End Note: The story of Marty and Chandler’s arrival on World is contained in “Master of Fire."