My Unfinished Work

Revolution

Chapter 1

All I wanted for my sixteenth birthday was a ticket to the coolest band of the century. Was that too much to ask? All I got was a piece of rock tied onto a leather thong and some crazy story about travelling in time. Ever since I could remember, Mom had told us wild tales of Manitoba’s past. She told each story as though she’d actually been there. Now, she’s claiming all the stories were true, that she had really been transported back to that time by a native shaman whose spirit guide had given her an arrowhead as a talisman that held magic no white person could truly understand – the same bit of stone she had just given me.

She also said that when she performed the withershins ritual she’d met my dad – and he actually supported her claim! Dad said he had inherited the soul of the man Mom fell in love with in the past. He had apparently been dreaming of her so much that when he met Mom for the first time in our century, he felt he knew her. The dreams, he’d said, were actually memories of all the things that his ancestor had done.

I think it’s all just a phony story to keep me from going to the concert. Well, it’s not going to work! I have some money from babysitting. I’ll go buy the ticket myself!

I stuck the arrowhead in my sock drawer.

I could tell by the look on her face that Mom was disappointed in me for not being drawn into her fantasy. Well, I didn’t care. I stormed out of the house, stalking the neighbourhood streets to work off some of my anger and frustration. My ‘Sweet Sixteen’ was supposed to be the best birthday, ever. Instead, all I got was a chunk of rock.

The power walk didn’t work. The heat of the late July sun was making me even hotter under the collar! I needed to vent. I found myself outside my best friend’s door, ringing the bell.

“Hey, Kristen!” Savannah greeted me through the screen door. She unhooked the latch and let me inside. “What’s up, girl? You have a storm cloud over your head the size of Winnipeg!”

She guided me to her bedroom and shut the door, before I spoke.

“It’s my folks,” I said, tears forming in my eyes. “I didn’t get the ticket, like I thought, like I’ve been asking for since the news was out they were coming to town. Instead, they give me a stone and a load of bunk about it being ‘magical’.”

I wiggled my fingers to indicate the quotation marks around the word magical.

“What kind of stone did they give you?” Savannah asked, her eyes lighting up at the idea.

“It looks like an old arrowhead tied to a leather thong. Mom says it transported her back in time where she met the ancestor of my father. The sad thing is, Dad agrees with her!”

“An arrowhead?” Savannah asked. “That is way cool!”

“No it isn’t! It’s lame!”

“Can I see it?”

“I left it at home. Why would I want to wear something so creepy?”

“I don’t think it’s creepy.”

I should have known Savannah would take their side. She’s really been getting into the native spiritual stuff. Mom tried to cram it down my throat as a child, but I’m not a child anymore. Sure it was fun to attend the powwows and watch the hoop dancers, but I don’t really care much about all that now – especially considering that crazy story of Mom’s. She even said she hardly believed the truth of it, in the beginning.

“So, how did this arrowhead transport her back in time? Supposedly,” Savannah added when she saw the look on my face.

“She did something she called the ‘withershins’. She said it refers to a ritual where one runs three times around a church at midnight. The friends she tried it with said they might meet the devil or be transported to the Netherworld. Mom claims that running counter-clockwise sends you back in time, clockwise will bring you back to your own time. Pretty far-fetched, eh?”

“Actually, I have heard of that, some kind of urban legend, but it does sound pretty wild, all right,” Savannah agreed.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s a load of bunk,” I pouted.

“Why did she give it to you? The arrowhead, I mean.”

“Mom said she’d had a vision, a dream, where the shaman from the past spoke to her. She told me I should use the talisman to perform the withershins on the night of the Harvest Moon – the full moon in October – the same time she had travelled to the past, twenty-five years ago.  She believed there were things I needed to learn, just as she did – that there was another story to be told.”

“I always wondered how she knew so much about that stuff,” Savannah mused.

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe all this crap!”

“Well, it makes sense that she learned about the spirituality of the early aboriginal people first hand. What was the reason she told you why she went back in time?”

“Something to do with her ancestors. Before she went back in time, she didn’t know about her First Nations roots. She said she ran away before the shaman had taught her what he felt she needed to learn. When she got home again, she discovered she was Métis. Then she read something in the Archives about the shaman being hanged because the people in the past thought he had killed her when they couldn’t find her after she returned to the present. She went back a second time to save him and stayed because the shaman wouldn’t let her come home until he’d finished teaching her all that stuff.”

“What an amazing story!” Savannah exclaimed. “And now she teaches Aboriginal Studies at the University of Manitoba!”

“Dad, too, you may recall.”

“That’s right! And he knows all about it because he . . . dreamed it?”

“His dreams are supposed to be the memories of his ancestor, the one Mom claims to have met when she was in the past.”

Telling Savannah the story made me feel a little better, but I didn’t like the way she seemed to be buying into the whole thing. She was supposed to be on my side.

“You really don’t believe this stupid story, do you,” I asked.

“No, of course not! It’s impossible!”

Even though Savannah said the words, I had the feeling she was just humouring me.

“I should go,” I said.

“So soon?”

“Yeah, it’s almost supper time. We’re supposed to be going to a restaurant to celebrate my birthday.”

Savannah gave me a hug. “Have a great time and happy birthday. Sorry I haven’t got your gift yet. I’ll drop it by later tonight.”

“Thanks, Savannah. See you later.”

*

I moped around the house until it was time to go to the restaurant. I decided to wear a dress, which was a very rare thing for me to do, but it was my birthday after all – my Sweet Sixteen. I wanted to look special, even though I didn’t really feel all that special. After applying a bit of eye shadow and pink lip-gloss, I stepped into the living room.

“You look lovely!” Mom said with a hesitant smile. “You’re not wearing the talisman?”

I sighed.

“It would make your Dad and me happy if you wore it tonight. It doesn’t have to show. You could slip it inside your dress.”

“Fine,” I said turning back towards my room. I found the talisman in my drawer and slipped the leather thong around my neck. It smelled a little like wood smoke and sage.

When I returned to my parents, Mom smiled.

“Eric! Sara!” she called. My younger brother and sister scurried into the room. Eight year-old Eric wore navy blue pants and a shirt that actually buttoned down the front. Sara wore a frilly yellow dress that went so well with her tanned skin. I hated to admit it, but they did look kind of cute when they were all dressed up.

The conversation on the drive to the restaurant was strained between my parents and me, but the younger two prattled on about every little thing they saw fly past the window. I had no idea where we were going until Dad turned on Water Street and I recognized the route to The Forks. I knew we were headed for my favourite restaurant – The Old Spaghetti Factory. It was also one of my parents’ favourites, although they said it wasn’t at The Forks when they used to go there on dates and anniversaries before we were born.

We walked past the huge Chinese urn in the display window and stood, waiting for the receptionist. When she finally arrived, Dad gave her our name. After checking her seating chart, she led us to a table on the patio where, to my surprise, two of my friends were already sitting at a table. When they saw us, they stood up and shouted, “Happy Birthday, Kristen!”

Savannah was the first to give me a hug.

“You rat!” I said. “You never mentioned you’d be here tonight.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise, in case you hadn’t figured that out,” she said with a huge grin.

Then, Megan stepped up and hugged me, too, saying, “Happy birthday! Ally sends her regrets, but she’s at the lake and had to work at the grocery store, today. She says she’ll bring you your gift when she gets home. So, were you surprised?”

“Sure was!” I grinned. “You two sure know how to keep a secret!”

We all had lovely pasta meals with lots of delicious fresh bread and garlic butter. Then the waiters and waitresses brought a birthday cake and sang to me. I always hated that part – way too embarrassing! Once everyone had eaten a slice of cake, each of my friends gave me a colourfully wrapped gift. Megan gave me the latest CD of the band I wanted to see in concert. Savannah gave ma a beautiful leather journal with the inscription inside that read, “In the event you actually try the withershins, you might want to write down your adventures! Love, Savannah.”

I gave her a dirty look. Megan glanced over my shoulder before I could close the journal.

“What’s the withershins?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” I mumbled, noticing my parents raise their eyebrows at me.

“And here’s something from your Dad and I.” Mom said, handing me a wallet-sized package.

“I thought you gave me my present already,” I said, surprised.

“That was your secret gift,” Mom said. “This is your ‘real’ present.”

I tore off the wrapping and peeked inside the thin box. There, among pale blue tissue paper, lay the longed-for concert ticket.

“Oh, thank-you!” I said, giving each of my parents a huge hug. “I take back every nasty thought I had about you!”

I showed my friends what was in the box. “Now we can all go!”

“Happy birthday, Sweetheart,” Mom said.

*

The next day, Megan dropped by the house.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to hear about that withershins thing,” she said, once we were tucked away in my room. “And how come Savannah knew about it and I didn’t?”

I went to my sock drawer and pulled out the arrowhead necklace. It dangled from my fingers, swaying slightly as I brought it to the bed where Megan was perched.

“This is the withershins?”

“No, it’s what supposedly makes the withershins happen,” I said, then went on to explain the whole thing to her.

“Your Mom says she went back in time? I always knew she was a little out there . . .”

“Keep your voice down!” I whispered. “I’m not sure I should be telling anyone about this. I only told Savannah because I was so angry when I thought I didn’t get the concert ticket, I didn’t care whether I should tell or not. You have to swear not to tell a living soul.”

“I promise,” Megan solemnly swore, holding a hand to her heart. “What about Ally?”

“Let me think about it. The fewer people who know my parents are nuts, the better.”

*

I left the arrowhead in a drawer, trying to forget what Mom had said about her dream – that I should try the withershins on the night of the Harvest Moon. I certainly didn’t want to get caught up in that insane hogwash. My friends had always thought my folks were a bit odd, but now they were intrigued that it might not simply be a story. In some ways, I wished I believed there were forces in nature, spirit guides Mom called them, to guide us through difficult times. However, I still can’t help feeling that we have to make our own destiny. When I was with my friends, I just claimed I didn’t believe any of it, but as the summer dwindled, I began having the most vivid dreams.

Perhaps it was the power of suggestion that influenced those dreams or maybe there was some truth to what Mom and Dad had told me. Whatever the cause, my dreams grew profoundly intense. I often found myself jolted awake by the jab of an arrow in my shoulder, or the whiz of a musket ball as it sped past my ear. My blood was stirred by the beat of a deerskin drum, the haunting strains of a wooden flute, and the compelling chants of long-forgotten singers . . .

Chapter 2

Reluctantly, I returned to school in the fall. Only two more years and I’d be officially out of there. First day back, Mom insisted I take Eric and Sara to their elementary school. After saying goodbye to them in the schoolyard, I had to run to catch the bus that would take me to the high school. I waved to my friends, who waited for me at the stop, but I think they could tell by my face that I was not thrilled about returning to class.

“Hey, don’t look so glum,” Savannah said cheerfully, as I finally caught up with them.  “Just think, we’ll get to see the guys from the football team again. We’ve been deprived of those hunks all summer!”

“There is that,” I agreed.  “I just can’t stop thinking about all the work that’s going to be piled on us this year. I’m not sure I’m up to it.”

“Hey! Is that a new necklace?” Allison pointed to the leather thong around my neck.

“It’s nothing,” I murmured.

“Her mother gave it to her for her birthday,” Megan revealed.

“It’s supposed to be magical,” Savannah whispered, conspiratorially.

“Can we not talk about this?” I grumbled.

I was greatly relieved to see the school bus turn the corner. I was the first to hop up the steps, aiming for the back. There were only a few others already on-board, so I plunked down on the very last bench, sliding up against the window. Allison slid in beside me, while Savannah and Megan sat on the seat in front of us, turning so they could hear our conversation. Ally could not contain her curiosity.

“So what’s the deal?” she pressed. “Just because I was at the lake all summer, you still could have called or written about this unusual birthday present. Spit it out, girl!”

“You really should let her in on it,” Savannah said to me.

“All right,” I said, with a sigh, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

When Ally nodded, I whispered the whole story in her ear. Then, I dug out the arrowhead from beneath my shirt, wishing I hadn’t felt compelled to wear it. I’d found it as I dug through my sock drawer that morning. I don’t know why I took it out of the drawer. I guess I thought it would bring me good luck on the first day of school, but I had hoped my shirt would hide it so no one would notice. I should have realized Ally’s eagle eye would spot it. She’s such a fashion hound, always sniffing out the latest trends.

Ally gingerly took the talisman between her forefinger and thumb, as though afraid of disturbing whatever power was locked inside the stone. She let out a stream of air.

“That is so-o-o cool,” she said quietly with awe in her voice.

“Ok, now you’ve seen it.” I grabbed it out of her hands and stuffed it back under my shirt.

“You don’t have to be like that!” Ally sniffed.

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just a little uneasy about the whole subject.”

“I don’t know,” Savannah confided. “But if what you say is true, how cool would that be?  Just think, to be able to travel to the past, live the life of our ancestors, even for a little while.”

“Maybe I should give this to you and you can try it,” I retorted.

“You mean it?” Savannah said excitedly.

“No!” I spat bitterly, feeling a bit betrayed that my long-time friend might actually accept the story as fact. “The whole thing is a fairy tale, a fantasy.”

“Then why are you wearing it?” Savannah demanded.

“It’s an interesting artefact, nothing more.”

“You said, before, it was creepy.”

“I have the right to change my mind, don’t I?”

I sat back in my seat and stared out the window, watching the miniature school in the distance grow larger the closer we got. I wished I’d never told my friends. I should have kept it a secret – a deep, dark, family secret. Since the day my parents admitted to me that all the stories they had told me as a child were true, tension in the house had grown to monstrous proportions.

My friends finally dropped the subject and didn’t bring it up again for about six weeks . . .

*

I shivered beneath the thermal blanket, snuggling closer to Savannah as we watched the first play-off game of the season.  Our eyes were pinned to the quarterback as he skirted the blockers from the other team. We held our breath as he deftly avoided the groping hands of the defence man, ran across the ten yard line, then with a mighty leap, flew over the last remaining obstacle to tumble to a halt behind the goal posts.  The audience rose to their feet with a resounding roar of victory.  We’d won!  The blanket slipped to our feet, but Savannah and I were so elated, we didn’t feel the frosty bite of the October wind.

Once the teams had filed by their opponents to shake each other’s hands, our team headed for the chartered bus along with the cheerleaders.  Ally was among them with her pleated skirt and pompoms. When she waved to us, we gave her the thumbs up, confirming our plans to meet with her at the school. Savannah’s older brother, Dakota, was waiting for us in his old Chevy four-door. He’d been on the football team three years ago when they’d won the championship, but he still enjoyed watching the games with us.

After dropping us off at the school, Dakota waved good-bye, leaving us to our own devices.  Ally had disembarked from the bus by that time and the players were heading home, carrying their gear in heavy equipment bags. Three of the team members wandered over when they spotted us.

“Congratulations on the winning goal, Ian,” I said shyly, my heart madly fluttering against my rib cage.

“Thanks, Kristen,” he replied in his usual husky voice. “Glad you ladies came out to support the team.”

“We wouldn’t miss the games if our lives depended on it,” Savannah breathed.

We both had a crush on the handsome quarterback, with his fawn-like eyes and dark curly hair.  He had shoulders that wouldn’t quit, a narrow waist and tight buns, which were accentuated by the fitted nylon pants of his uniform. He was one of the most popular guys in the eleventh grade, friendly and smart, head of the student council. All the girls drooled as he walked by and I think he was quite aware of the effect he had on us, although that didn’t bother me a bit. I was simply glad he took the time to even speak to me. Savannah and I had been thrilled when he joined the drama club and choir, so we could cast him sly glances during our musical rehearsals.

His buddies, Martin and Bert, nodded their greetings to us and paused, waiting for Ian to join them. Martin jangled his car keys.

“Well, I should go,” Ian said. “See you at rehearsal tomorrow.”

“Bye, Ian,” Savannah and I chorused.

“You two need to wipe your chins,” Ally chided once the boys were out of earshot. “For heaven’s sake! He’s nothing special.”

“Yeah, we know you think he’s an egotistical jerk,” Savannah replied.

“But he’s so-o-o cute!” I added.

“And he knows it,” Ally said, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder. “He’s stringing you along. He probably thinks it’s a big joke.”

“I think you’ve pegged him all wrong,” I insisted.

“Delude yourselves all you like,” Ally sighed.  “Just don’t come crying to me when he breaks your hearts.”

“It’s not like I think I have a chance with him,” I retorted.

“Besides, I don’t want to fight Kristen over him,” Savannah said. “I wouldn’t break up our friendship over a guy.  It is nice to dream, though.”

Just then, Megan ran up, panting. “Looks like I missed everything.”

“Gymnastics ran long?” I guessed.

Megan nodded. “I got here as soon as I could. Did we win?”

“Yup!” I told her. “Ian made the winning goal.”

“Bet you loved that!” Megan replied, her green eyes glistening with amusement.

“He even came over and talked to us,” Savannah chirped.

“Hey! I’ve got an idea,” Megan began. “Why don’t we invite them to a little late night devilry.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, instantly regretting that I’d let her in on my secret.

“The full moon peaks on Saturday,” Megan continued.  “Why not bring them to the St. Boniface Cathedral and try that thing your mom told you about? What was it called again? Widow shine?”

“With-er-shins,” I said, carefully pronouncing each syllable.  “And what makes you think I want to be humiliated in front of those guys?”

“You wouldn’t have to tell them what your folks said, just say it’s an urban legend you wanted to try out. It might be kind of fun running around a graveyard at night.”

“Yeah!” Savannah agreed. “If we get scared, we could get Ian to comfort us.”

“You’ve got a point, there, Savannah,” I admitted with a smirk. “It might be fun, at that!”

*

Arrangements were made and, much to my surprise, the guys were eager to participate in our little adventure. I told my parents I was sleeping over at Savannah’s so they wouldn’t expect me back by curfew, although the odd gleam in Mom’s eye made me wonder if she didn’t suspect the truth. Savannah’s parents never asked her where she went, so they wouldn’t voice any objections if we wandered off into the night.

I was thankful that the weather held. I felt a bit of a chill, but was happy it was much warmer than the previous couple of weeks of below-freezing temperatures. The air was still. Not a leaf moved on any of the huge oaks and elms that lined the boulevards of our old Franco-Manitoban neighbourhood. It was actually a bit eerie, like the calm before a storm. I prayed winter would be delayed a few hours longer.

Savannah and I met Ally and the guys at the main entrance to the Cathedral, which faced the river. My stomach was in turmoil as this would probably be the closest thing to a date I’d ever have with Ian. Moments later, Megan showed up with her boyfriend, Doug, his motorcycle engine rumbling through the quiet of the night. When the engine stopped, the silence resumed, as did the reverence of that holy place. When our two biker friends caught up with us, the introductions began, followed by an awkward silence.

Instead of embarrassing myself by ogling Ian, I glanced around the graveyard until my eyes were drawn to the peak of the church with its prominent stone cross in silhouette.  Like the glowing pupil of an all-seeing eye, the moon peeked through the ring that once housed a stained glass window, lost in the fire of 1968. The eye seemed to follow our every move, causing gooseflesh to tickle my spine.

“That’s a pretty large building to run around three times,” Ian commented, breaking the conversational pause. “Are you sure you girls are up to it?”

“Of course we are!” Savannah blurted out.

I wasn’t so sure. I was never the athletic sort, although my wiry legs could put on the speed when necessary. I touched the talisman at my neck. Did the arrowhead really have magic? I shook my head, dispelling the possibility. I was still convinced nothing would happen.

“Who wants to go first?” Martin asked, his eyes owl-like as moonlight reflected off the lenses of his glasses.

“Ally, why don’t you try it?” Bert asked. He had sidled up beside her and slipped his arm around her shoulder. As he grinned widely, the silver brackets of his braces picked up ambient light, making him appear like a cartoon hero with a sparkling smile.

“Nah,” Ally declined. “I think Kristen should go first.”

When Ian glanced down at me, I nearly drowned in his eyes. He cocked his head as though he doubted my ability but wanted to see me try. I hesitated. Maybe Ally was right and he was only being nice to Savannah and me as some kind of sick joke. Although I wanted to prove to Ian that I could do it right then and there, I checked my watch. It was only ten o’clock.

“It’s not quite time, yet,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t think I was a coward if I delayed. “Why don’t we wander down to The Promenade and see if there are any boats on the river?”

“Ok,” Ian agreed. “Then we can head over to the restaurant on the bridge for a snack before we expend our energy.”

Ian took my elbow and escorted me towards the bare limbs. In mid-summer, the leafy green branches formed a canopy overhead that could easily block the sun – or the moon. Tonight, however, the moon’s light filtered through the skeletal fingers, following us, casting strange shadows at our feet.

I gave Savannah a quick peek over my shoulder as the others paired off behind us. Shy, reserved Martin was keeping pace with her. Disappointment and resignation marred Savannah’s face, even though Marty was good looking in his own right, with dark hair and eyes similar to Ian’s. I felt sorry for her. She was the only one who didn’t seem happy with her partner. Ally and Bert, the two blondes, seemed a perfect match, babbling on about football. Megan and Doug, both adventurous types in shiny black leather, talked about cars and ‘choppers’.  Savannah and Marty didn’t speak to each other as they tagged along behind us like lost puppies.

We led the way down the three tiers of ‘le Promenade’ steps to the concrete pad often used as a boat dock. There was nowhere to sit on the lowest level, so we stopped and perched on the concrete blocks that faced rock planters containing the dried remains of geraniums and daisies. The concrete was cold and I shivered. Ian put his arm around me, pulling me closer. As Savannah and Marty sat opposite us, I noticed that her eyes held a hint of jealousy. The other four perched on the remaining squares, but didn’t have as good a view of the river as we did.

The orbs of the lamps in the park on the opposite bank glowed rather eerily, like hovering spaceships. The lights of the downtown high-rises winked through the barren tree branches, twinkling on the water like stars. A hint of wood smoke in the air tickled my nose. The sound of music and laughter drew my eyes to the Provencher Bridge, where the ‘River Rouge’ eased between two of the bridge’s pilings. Passengers on the moonlight cruise, with drinks held precariously in one hand, waved at us from both tiers of the old-style riverboat. The banks reverberated with the deep rumbling of the engine as it strained to turn the paddlewheel, which churned up white water in its wake. We watched it chug beneath the Main Street Bridge until it disappeared around the bend.

“Guess we’ll be the ones cruising on a Paddlewheel boat in a year and a half when we graduate,” I said, adding, “providing this year’s graduates don’t do something stupid to ruin it for the rest of us.”

“Have you decided what you’ll do after graduation?” Ian asked.

“University, I guess,” I replied. “Although I’m still torn between teaching or journalism. I suppose you’re off to med school?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Ian stated. “To be a doctor.”

“What field?” I asked.

“Probably paediatrics. I love kids.”

I felt like screaming at Ally, ‘See? He does have a sensitive side!’ but held my tongue. Noticing that Savannah sat at one end of the block and Marty at the other, I made a suggestion.

“Why don’t we head for ‘Sals’, now?”

Savannah jumped up and said, “Great idea!”

She grabbed my arm and forged ahead, ignoring the raised eyebrows in our wake.

“Sorry,” I whispered to her. “How was I to know he’d choose me?”

“Don’t give it a second thought,” she murmured, although I’m sure she was seething underneath her calm exterior.

It was a short hike to the footbridge with its sail-shaped cables reaching high into the night sky. The structure had been the subject of a lot of controversy when it was built, but I think it’s grown on the population. Tourists have often commented on its uniqueness. In the middle of the bridge, a Salisbury House restaurant hung over the river like a semi-circular balcony. We waited in line awhile for indoor seats, since the restaurant did not have much room because of its shape and location. We decided not to wait, so we ordered from the take-out window, instead.

I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but I ordered a cappuccino to which I added two heaping teaspoons of sugar. The others sipped a variety of other foamy drinks and shared a large order of fries.  As we sauntered back to Taché Street, I admired the glimmering etchings on the polished black edge of the car bridge. The sun and flower patterns, the birds, swirls and geometric designs were only visible to pedestrians. The artwork was hidden from the motorists that drove above it.

We skipped down the steps beside the foot bridge, down to the ‘Water Bus’ dock – or ‘quai’, in French – which was much more elaborate than ‘le Promenade’. A long wheelchair ramp crisscrossed each set of steps that led to three circles. The middle one held a bench and brief history for visitors to read, while the top and bottom levels each held a central flower motif in the paving stones. Globular street lamps illuminated each path, which then branched off into two ramps that led to the platform where the Water Bus docked.

It had grown quite chilly by that time and I didn’t feel much like sitting on a cold bench. Instead, I leaned against the railing of the top circle, staring at the opposite bank, which held its own series of steps and semi-circular platforms. I knew that further down, closer to the Forks, a sculptured stone retaining wall lined the footpath with a scene of paddling voyageurs. My mind flashed to something Mom once told me – of her trip in a canoe when she went on a spirit quest.

I shook my head, still refusing to believe that her stories were anything but fantasy. I touched the talisman beneath my T-shirt. When we tried the withershins, would I go back in time and have to live at Lower Fort Garry like Mom had? I shuddered. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like back in those olden times. The thought of no electricity or running water seemed so barbaric. For a moment, I was afraid to try the withershins. I was afraid Mom had been right all along.

No! It’ll never happen, I decided. We aren’t at St. Andrew’s Church, the place where Mom had tried it. This was St. Boniface, near the centre of Winnipeg, twenty-five years later. If the talisman did have magic, I was sure it was long gone. Besides, I didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of my friends.

As we chatted about the upcoming football game, a few motorboats skimmed across the river’s surface. Abruptly, the temperature dropped. Humidity hung heavily in the air, growing with each passing minute. Light fog drifted up from the water, its wisps like spirited dancers, writhing to some primal drum. Soon, the dancers held hands and grew together as they crept up the bank towards us, finally obscuring our view of the other side of the river.  The air pressed against me. The dampness made me shiver. Ian moved closer and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Let’s move away from the river,” he suggested, guiding me back up the bank.  Glancing at his watch, he added. “It’s almost midnight. We should head for ‘le Cathédrale’”

The full moon was now directly overhead, casting eerie shadows onto the dry grass. By the time we reached the front steps of the huge stone church, mist was chasing our feet. I felt the hair on the back of my neck bristle with fear. Mom told me how the fog had appeared just before she had tried the withershins. Was this just a coincidence? I was beginning to have serious doubts, but I couldn’t chicken out. Not now.

“Five minutes,” Ian announced.

My friends huddled around us.

“You ready, Kristen?” Savannah asked anxiously as the fog wrapped around our knees.

“I . . . I . . . guess so.”

I glanced up at Ian, who gave me an encouraging nod. There was no way I was going to let him see how scared I was. I pushed back my shoulders and stood proud.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I’m ready.  Give me a count down.”

Ian clapped my shoulder, flashed one of his dazzling smiles, and, while studying the digits on his watch, began counting backwards. “Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . GO!”

I took off at a sprint, running counter-clockwise around the large stone church, trying to avoid the bushes and hopping off the curb to the parking lot. I managed to complete the first circle fairly easily. My friends urged me on as I passed them. The fog was now so thick I could scarcely see my feet, but I forged onward, completing the second circle.

“Come on, Kristen, you can do it!”

Ian’s voice inspired me to continue, although I was starting to feel the burn in my lungs. I could barely see the shadow of the church wall near my shoulder. I prayed I wouldn’t trip on anything as I ran. Two more corners to go . . . one more . . .

A light appeared ahead. Probably a car headlight, I thought. Maybe Doug had brought his bike closer to provide more light. As I got closer, I realized this was no ordinary light. The mist whirled into a funnel shape, like a sideways tornado, its tail ending at the brightest spot. Mom had described the exact same thing when it happened to her. I had to stop! I didn’t want to travel back in time.

My mind told my feet to slow, but the momentum of my run pushed me headlong into the swirling mass. It was like plunging into a meat locker. The cold of it froze my limbs.  I couldn’t move. I felt myself falling. My head swam around and around, like the swirl of that weird phenomenon. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the dizziness, but it didn’t help . . .

 

Chapter 3

After what seemed like an eternity, I no longer saw light through my lids. I opened my eyes – only to see the ground rise up before me. I landed, face down, with a resounding thud.  The air was pressed out of my lungs. I desperately gulped for air. My chest throbbed and my left arm was twisted beneath me. When I tried to move, pain speared through my shoulder. I rolled onto my back as the fog thinned, then wisped past me, back towards the river. I stared up, now clearly able to see the millions of stars that winked through the inky canvass of the sky.

That wasn’t right, I frowned.

Normally, only the brightest stars were visible because the light from the city drowned out all the others. My eyes sought out the moon. Its white disc still glowed against the black velvet night, but no skeletal tree branches stretched across its face. Holding my injured arm close to my body, I struggled to sit up and study my surroundings.

The tall oaks were gone. The only foliage I could see were scrubby bushes no taller than me. The Cathedral was no longer beside me, but stood closer to the river. I must have wandered too far in the fog, I thought. I studied the silhouette of the Cathedral but something wasn’t quite right.  The circular opening in its facade was gone, with only one curved archway over the entrance instead of three. The roofline, too, was different – lower with a steeper slope and a flat square section at the peak as though the steeple was not yet finished – and there was a newness about it, as though it had only recently been built.

How could that be? Maybe I got turned around and was looking at another building, perhaps the college?

I unsteadily attempted to stand, but my shoulder ached and nausea tugged at my stomach, forcing me to bend over my knees for a moment to let the feeling pass. When I could finally stand upright, I made a careful circle, checking for familiar landmarks. The neighbourhood, as I knew it, was gone. A few buildings stood to the south and a smaller church-like building with a central spire was to the north, but for the most part, the landscape was pretty barren. As I faced the river, I noticed how shallow the banks were without trees to shield them. The river, unusually high and wide, joined another to the south – the forks.

Well, at least that hadn’t changed!

A plain wooden dock reached out from the edge where the Promenade should have been.  Across the way, I could not see the river walk or any kind of cityscape – no tall buildings, no street lights, only a strange silhouette like a medieval castle.

My heart sank.

The only place in Winnipeg’s history that matched such a structure would have been one of the trading posts. Since I was near the forked rivers, that structure must be Upper Fort Garry. Darn! Mom had been telling the truth all along and I guess it doesn’t really matter what church was used – unless this was all a crazy dream, whipped up by my frenzied imagination.

And yet, what if it wasn’t a dream? What if the withershins thing had actually worked?  I’d be stuck in the past. My body felt numb. My mind balked at such a theory. I tried to focus. If this was real, where should I go? Even if it was a dream, why couldn’t I wake up?

Panic rose in me like the Red River in the spring. I took a deep breath, held it, and closed my eyes, imagining a dam holding back my hysteria. Keeping that in mind, I forced myself back to a state of relative calm. Well, if Mom managed to survive primitive times, I should be able to do the same. I just had to think of a plan. What had Mom done all those years ago?

As I remembered, Mom sought refuge with the minister and his wife, although they would be across the river, and much farther north, at old St. Andrew’s Church. I glanced at the building with the unfinished steeple. It may be on the wrong side of the river, but it was still a church. I took a few tentative steps towards it. More than likely, the priest or some of the original Grey Nuns lived there. As missionaries, they were supposed to help the needy, weren’t they? If anyone could be considered needy, I certainly was at that moment, I thought.

No lights shone from within, but I had to take a chance, even if I had to wake someone. I certainly couldn’t spend the night out here. It was freezing!

I pounded on the heavy wood door. My shoulder cried out with each vibration as my fist struck, but I continued, the sound echoing through the stillness. Nothing stirred. I banged again, praying that someone would answer. Finally, from the building on my right, a ghostly figure appeared in the doorway with a flickering candle. The silhouette in a long gown gestured, beckoning me to approach.

“Qu’est que vous voulez?” the male voice inquired.

At that moment, I’d never been happier that Mom and Dad had enrolled me in a bilingual program at school! I understood that he asked what I wanted.

“Je veux s’abriter pour le nuit,” I replied.  “I seek shelter for the night.”

“Qu’est que vous égarés, monsieur?” he asked.

“Oui,” I said, continuing in French, “I am lost, but I’m not a man, I’m a girl.”

“My apologies, mademoiselle,” he said. “Please come in from the cold. I am sure the sisters have a bed for you. I am Abbé Lestanc. I am in charge while Bishop Taché is in Rome.”

“C’est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance,” I said, holding out my hand.  “Je suis Kristen Ours – Kristen Bear.”

As the Abbé vigorously shook my hand, I winced, the motion wrenching my shoulder.

“You are hurt,” the Abbé observed. “Come. The sisters will attend to your injuries.”

I nodded, not willing to say anything more at the moment. He invited me inside the large two-storey structure, which looked suspiciously like the old St. Boniface Museum. Before stepping in, I took a quick glance towards the river. Bishop Taché, he’d said. The street that followed along this side of the river was named for the man – a street that did not exist, yet, I noticed. There was only a mud trail.

The Abbé closed the door behind us and stuck the tall white taper in his hand into an ornate silver candlestick that sat on a table in the corridor. The candle’s flame cast flickering shadows against the plain wood walls. I followed the priest in his long black cassock as he led the way towards a door at the end of the hall. As the priest reached for the knob, the door opened, revealing a woman in a fawn-coloured gown with square sleeves, open at the wrist. A dark blue petticoat with white spots covered the gown, which hung to within six inches from the floor. Around her shoulders was a heavy black shawl, its ends crossed over her bosom. On her head was a black bonnet with a hole in the crown that revealed a white cap beneath it. She wore moccasins on her feet.

From what I could see of her wrinkled and weathered face, she must be well over fifty, although I imagined the harsh lifestyle she must have endured may have aged her beyond her years. She was quite petite, almost fragile-looking. She did, however, have kind and sympathetic blue eyes, which welcomed me as the Abbé made the introductions in French.

“This is Sister Marie Edwige,” he told me, then turned to the Grey Nun  “Ici, Mademoiselle Christiane Ours.” I didn’t bother trying to correct his pronunciation of my name.

“Mademoiselle?” the sister asked, surprised. Her brow puckered as she critically studied my attire – tight blue jeans, running shoes, and a jean jacket with the hood of my sweatshirt pulled out over the collar. “Why would a young lady be dressed in such a manner?”

Thinking fast, I replied, “I wore my brother’s clothes tonight so I could ride his horse with ease, but the animal threw me and ran off. That is why I seek shelter for the night. I will attempt to head home in the morning.”

“An adventurous soul,” the nun murmured. “Worthy of les Sœurs Grises.”

The Grey Nuns, as I recalled, were brought from the east to teach the children of the early settlers. One of the nuns who had taught me in elementary school was a direct descendant from one of the early settlers taught by them. Sister Alice used to go on and on about her historic connection, until I began tuning her out. I’m surprised I remembered any of it at all!

“I assume the young lady was injured when her horse threw her,” the Abbé told the sister.

“Come, my dear,” Sister Marie Edwige beckoned. “Let us have a look at you.”

“I will take my leave,” the Abbé announced. He turned quickly and left me alone with the aging nun.

She led me into the large room. In the dimness, I could make out about a dozen sleeping forms. Sister Marie Edwige led me to an empty bed made of plain wood covered with a grey wool blanket. I eased onto the mattress. Its scrunching sound led me to believe it must be filled with straw. The nun sat beside me and began her physical examination of my condition. When she touched my shoulder, pain tore through the joint like an arrow. I grit my teeth to refrain from crying out and waking the others.

“It has been dislocated,” she announced in a whisper. “Lie on your back and brace yourself. I must attempt to replace it.”

I clamped my jaw tightly and closed my eyes. At first, she simply manipulated the area with her fingers. Then, she placed her palm against the end of the bone that stuck out at a sickeningly odd angle. She gripped my wrist with her other hand. I opened my eyes and watched her lips as she whispered, “Un . . . deux . . . trois . . .”

All at once, she tugged my arm down and pressed the bone back into its socket. I nearly bit through my tongue in an effort to muffle my cry. Tears flowed freely from the intense pain, but after a few minutes, the agony subsided somewhat. Sister Marie Edwige left the room for a minute, returning with what looked like a bed sheet. She tore a long strip from one end and created a sling by winding it around my wrist, across my elbow and securing the material on the opposite shoulder.

“That should keep you from moving your arm while it heals,” she said. After shaking a white powder from a paper packet into a glass of water, she offered it to me. “This will help with the pain. Now, if you please, you may use this bed for the night. Do you require a nightgown?”

“No, thank-you,” I replied. I drank the foul-tasting liquid, then kicked off my runners. “I’ll sleep in these clothes for tonight and head out in the morning.”

*

It was difficult sleeping with my arm in a sling – not to mention, having the events of the evening run through my head. I did doze a little, I think, although not nearly long enough. I was jolted awake by the sudden clang of church bells. As I lay in the dark, I could make out three distinct notes: F, G and A. I was surprised to hear them so close since, the night before, I had noticed that the steeple was incomplete. How, then, were the bells being played?

I heard movement in the room as the other nuns left their beds. Several candles were lit throughout the dormitory, their soft glow illuminating the robed women as they prepared for the day. Judging by the darkness outside the curtained window, it was not yet daybreak. I wondered how early it really was. All I knew was, I was dead tired, but felt I should rise with the others.

I squirmed to a sitting position on the bed and used my feet to feel around the floor for my shoes. Feeling the laces, I groaned. How was I to tie them with one arm out of commission? Just then, a young girl approached carrying a candle in a small holder. She was dressed in a similar habit to the one Sister Marie Edwige wore.

“Je suis Anna-Theresa,” she said. “Do you wish to join in the morning prayers?”

“What time is it?” I asked groggily.

“Four thirty,” she replied.

“In the morning?” I groaned.

“We always arise at this time,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“That’s a lot earlier than I usually rise,” I told her.

“You have had a busy night, from what I hear,” Sister Anna-Theresa said.  “Would you like to sleep a little longer? I will send someone to fetch you when breakfast is ready.”

“I would appreciate that,” I said.

The young nun left and I dozed a while, but it seemed not much more than a half hour had passed when someone knocked softly on the door. A round face peeked around its edge.

“I am Novice Marie Anne,” she said meekly. “Would you care to join us for the breaking of the fast?”

“If I can get my shoes on,” I replied.

Noticing the sling, she quickly set the candleholder on the nightstand. Kneeling, she picked up one of my runners, turning it around in her hand.

“I have never seen a shoe or moccasin of such design,” she said, frowning. She bent the shoe almost double and traced the tread design with her finger. “Is this rubber on the sole?”

“I guess so. I didn’t bother to ask when I bought them.”

“Wherever would one purchase such footwear? St. Paul?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Truly amazing!” she exclaimed.

I stuck out my foot and she slipped the runner onto my foot, then tied the laces. Once the other shoe was secured, Marie Anne helped me to my feet. We turned down another corridor to the right of the dormitory, following the delicious aromas emanating from what I assumed was the kitchen.

“I was curious about the church bells,” I said as we entered the dining room. “I thought the steeple was unfinished.”

“It is,” she informed me. “The bells mean so much to us that we built a wooden frame outside to hold them until the steeple is completed. It’s a wonder they were not smashed last summer when a tremendous storm swept through, destroying nearly every wood structure. You know, they were the first bells to toll in this area – despite the fire nine years ago. They were cracked and partly melted, but Archbishop Taché sent them back to the foundry in England to be recast. It took three years to get them back to Red River.”

“Why did it take so long?” I asked.

“The ship they were on was nearly destroyed in a storm off Newfoundland. They put into port at St. John’s, where the bells were unloaded and shipped to Portland, Maine and thence, to St. Paul. When the Archbishop was informed of their location, he was appalled. He was unable to afford the costly shipment by ox-cart, so he arranged for them to be sent back to England and re-shipped to Hudson’s Bay, where they were transported from York Factory by long boats.”

“That must have been quite the undertaking,” I commented, impressed by the nun’s story.

“Certainement!” she said. “There are thirty-four portages from York Factory to Norway House alone! Imagine! Those poor men had to transport over a thousand pounds of unyielding metal on their backs so that we could have this heavenly music. A thousand pounds was still less than they were. When they were originally sent here, back in 1840, they weighed sixteen hundred pounds. Well, after reaching Norway House, the voyageurs protested, refusing to bring them further. Bishop Provencher implored Andrew McDermot to assist him. It was fortuitous that Andrew was a lover of music, or the bells would have been stranded in the wilderness, never to sing for us.”

Marie Anne paused a moment, staring at me. Finally, she spoke.

“Have you recently moved here?” she asked.

“Not long ago,” I answered. “Why?”

“Those of us who have lived long at Red River are often regaled of the bells’ history,” she replied. “They were blessed only five years ago, March 12, 1864. Governor McTavish’s twins, Mary Louise and Florence, as well as his son James, were named godparents. Each bell has many godparents and named accordingly. The first was named Norbert Joseph Florent Henriette Sophie. The second is Vital Frances Louise Jane Nancy and the third, James Edward Jeanne.”

“How do you remember all those names?” I asked, amazed.

“I repeat them in my head like the verses of the Rosary.”

She led me to an empty place at the end of a bench pulled up to one of the long tables neatly set with ornate silverware, as well as plates, bowls, tea cups and saucers of bone china with small red and yellow flowers rimming each piece. Baskets of freshly baked bread sat between tureens of cooked oatmeal and steaming pots of tea. Spotless white linen napkins lay folded at each place.

Before anyone put a morsel on their plates, the Abbé stepped into the room. I rose with the nuns as he folded his hands in front of him and bowed his head.

“Oh, Heavenly Father, we humbly thank you for the food we are about to receive. May it nourish our bodies and strengthen our souls so that we are able to spread the gospel and enlighten those who are ignorant of your greatness. Bless all who are here today, including our guest, who was lost but has found her way to us. Heal her quickly, so she may continue on her way. Comfort her so she may know your love and spread the Word as we do.”

After reciting the blessing and the last ‘Amen’, he found a seat at the end of the first table.  A sculpture of the Virgin Mary, with her arms crossing her chest, hung on the wall above the Abbé’s head. The other nuns plunked down around me and began to pass the food. The smell of fresh bread was marvellous. I slathered several slices with the creamy, fresh-churned butter.

Marie Anne offered to pour the tea for me, which I gladly accepted.

“You are not Catholic,” Marie Anne stated.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“You did not make the sign of the cross after the thanksgiving prayer. Would you mind if I asked what religion you practice?”

“Would it make a difference to you what religion I do practice?” I asked cautiously.

“I am merely curious,” Marie Anne said. “When I take my vows in the spring, it will be my job to relay the word of God to those who may have need of it.”

“Is the God you preach about the same as the one the Anglicans or Protestants speak of?”

“I believe so,” Marie Anne replied, a small frown creasing her brow.

“Then, the only real difference between you and those of the other Christian faiths is simply a matter of ritual and tradition, am I right?”

“Yes, I believe it has something to do with our interpretation of the bible,” she answered.  “And that we believe the Pope in Rome is our highest spiritual leader, closest to God.”

“You believe there is only one God?” I queried.

“Of course, there is but one true God.”

“What if he was called Allah or Creator, would you still be praying to the same God?”

“I do not think those you mentioned are the same as our God.”

“But you do believe that God is the most supreme of beings, a benevolent, caring entity?”

“Yes,” she replied slowly. “You have not answered my original question.”

“I wanted to be clear about what you believed before I did,” I said. “I did not want to be condemned if I expressed an opinion contrary to yours. I don’t want you to think I am being disrespectful. I have the utmost esteem for people with unrelenting faith, no matter what it is they believe. To be honest, I have not formed an opinion on the subject. I understand the principles of religions I have read about, and I understand the ideas my parents have presented regarding their views on the subject. I just haven’t . . . heard the calling, I believe is the expression. I guess I am a realist. I can only believe in something I can see and touch.”

“I feel sorry for you,” Marie Anne said, shaking her head. “It is reassuring to know that we are not alone, that there is someone who is always there, in spirit, to help us cope with the difficulties experienced in life.”

“Spirit,” I mused. “My parents often spoke of ‘The Great Spirit’, Kitchie Manitou, the Creator, the one who is greater than any other, a supreme being who watches over us and guides us through times of great sorrow and pain. Could that not be considered God, just as yours is, only called by a different name?”

“I hardly think that it could possibly be the same . . .” Marie Anne began.

“Why not?” I countered. “They speak a different language. Perhaps, if translated correctly, the meaning is the same.”

“You have a point,” Marie Anne conceded. “Perhaps it is simply a matter of translation.  However, if you are referring to the beliefs of the Indians around Red River, I believe the manner in which they worship their God, no matter what they call Him, is unhealthy and barbaric.”

“It is merely a different way, just like the Protestants, Anglicans, Quakers, or any other Christian sect who worships in a different manner. Do you really think they are being unhealthy or barbaric?”

Marie Anne’s face flushed. She pursed her lips and glanced nervously around the room.  Others had stopped to listen to our conversation with shock and disbelief that one among them could speak such blasphemy. I hadn’t meant to get into such a philosophical debate. I guess I was still trying to understand the reasons why people believed what they did, since my own beliefs were basically non-existent.

“I’m not being critical,” I added, hastily. “I’m only trying to understand your viewpoint.”

“Perhaps you should attend the classes we have set up for the children in the area.  Everyone is welcome. I am sure the teachers will be able to answer your questions more eloquently than I ever could.”

“Perhaps I will,” I said, without making a firm commitment.

After all, I had no idea why I was back in the past. If it was anything like my mother’s ordeal, things could be a little out of my hands. I wondered whether Owl would find me, as he had found my mother. Would it be necessary for me to travel to the Lower Fort to find answers to my questions? I supposed only time would tell.

 

Quest For The Dragon’s Heart

(copyright 2005)

 Chapter 1

Amid terrified screams and the sound of trebuchet-tossed missiles pounding the outer castle walls, Erowyn drew Alise aside and whispered, “You must flee, my darling.  You cannot be caught with me.  Should the invading army discover you are my wife, you would, most certainly, be tortured or put to death.”

Together they fled down the turret steps to the wine cellar.  Erowyn pulled on a torch sconce and one of the racks slid aside, revealing a narrow tunnel that followed the outer walls.  Dragging her inside, he closed the secret entrance and led her to the left.  When they came to a bend in the tunnel, he paused and activated another hidden latch, which opened a passage leading away from the cellar.  From beneath his cloak, he withdrew a bundle of clothes.

“Remove your royal garments and put on these peasant clothes,” he ordered.  “You must also remove all your jewellery.”

“Even my wedding rings?” Alise asked tearfully.

“Those bands are your death sentence,” Erowyn confirmed.  “You must be strong, stronger than you have ever needed to be.  There may be horrific things asked of you but you must comply for the good of the entire country.  The invaders are beasts, who have conquered many neighbouring counties, enslaving the people, turning the land to dust as they search for the legendary ‘Conqueror’s Stone’.”

            “But we do not have it!” Alise declared.  “It has never been in the McLaren’s possession.  Why would King Rufus seek it here?”

“He is mad with power and does not care what his actions are doing to the landscape.  He does not realize that, soon, all farmland will be destroyed and that, with the coming of the frost cycle, his men – all the people – will starve.”

“What can we do?”

“You are one of the most beautiful women in the country . . .”

“You only say that because you are my husband,” Alise interrupted, playfully tapping the tip of his nose.

“It is the truth,” Erowyn insisted.  “Use your beauty as a weapon.  With it, you can infiltrate Rufus’ court, discover his intentions and relay them to our armies patrolling the outer borders.”

“You want me to be a spy?”

“In a word, yes,” Erowyn admitted.

“But what if I am forced to . . .” Alise shuddered.

“As repulsive as it is for me to think about such things, I know you are strong enough to survive all things.  I know, I was not your first choice for a husband, that there were others on whom you had set your sights, but I believe that, over the past eight years, I have earned your love and respect.”

“My parents made a wonderful match.  I could not have asked for a better husband.  You were – are – the most gentle and loving man a woman could ever want.  And I do love you, with all my heart and soul.”

He embraced her and squeezed tightly as though afraid to let her go.  Alise squeezed him with equal fervour, knowing what would be expected of her once she left the safety of his embrace.  She would prefer to die than . . .  Alise sighed.  She grabbed Erowyn’s face and planted a tender kiss on his lips.

Suddenly, the ground above them shook and dirt rained down upon them.

“That strike was too close,” Erowyn muttered.  “Darling, you must go.  Now.  Before the tunnel collapses.  I will surrender to Rufus and claim you were killed, so they will not look for you.  Please, go now.”

His voice was choked with emotion.  He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and turned, so she would not see the tears in his eyes.  He hurried out, closing the secret entrance behind him.  She knew Erowyn would latch the passage so it could not be accessed by intruders, should it be discovered.  She had nowhere else to go but forward.  Alise stood for a moment, staring at the blank wall, then, as another blast shook her refuge, she scurried to the exit.

Despite the arrangement of her marriage, Alise loved Erowyn more than life itself.  She had led him to believe, at first, that there were other men she fancied but, in truth, she had convinced her parents that a match to Erowyn would be in everyone’s best interest.  Fortunately, they had agreed with her.  She prayed Rufus would spare her husband’s life, but feared the ruthless leader would take too much pleasure in putting him to death – after subjecting him to torture, of course, in his insane search for a myth.

It was with a heavy heart that Alise arrived at the staircase leading to the surface on the other side of the moat.  She shoved through the brambles covering the tunnel opening.  Thorns caught and ripped her dress and cloak, slashing through to her skin, but she finally managed to slip, unnoticed, into the night.

*

            Erowyn sadly walked back to the wine cellar, but did not enter.  Instead, he pulled a brick from the wall beside the door, concealing a large bolt, which he drew across to lock the door.  He then replaced the brick so that no stranger could tell it was any different than any other on the wall.  He walked to the bend at the opposite end of the passage from where he left Alise.  He activated another door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  Reaching up near the ceiling to the right of the door, he pulled out a brick, revealing a cubby hole.  After untying a royal blue bag from his belt, he tucked the bag into the space and covered it with the brick.  When he pushed on it, he heard a click, and the brick sat flush with the rest of the wall.

Systematically, Erowyn went through the maze of tunnels on every level of the castle, bolting each entryway except one, so no invader could accidentally access the secret places from inside the castle.  Finally, he returned to the cellar.  The last door he would, regrettably, have to leave unlocked so he could re-enter the main castle.  Once the wall had swung back into place behind him, Erowyn found himself in the dungeon.  He walked between the two rows of cells, five on one side, six on the other.  Each was sorely in need of repair as they had not been used since before his father was king.  The iron bars were rusty and the mortar into which they were fixed had started to crumble.  Still, there was an air of death about the place, a vile stench that could not be cleaned away, even after so many decades.

Erowyn turned the corner and headed for the stairs.  He paused at an open door and swung his lantern into the room, which was almost as large as the dungeon through which he had just travelled.  Silky cobwebs glistened in the light.  Beyond, in the dark shadows, he could barely discern the outlines of various dastardly devices once used to torture and punish, even though most of the victims did not deserve such cruelty.  He shuddered, as though foreseeing his own future, should Rufus gain control of his realm.

The castle shook and rumbled each time a missile hit its mark.  As Erowyn climbed the stairs to the kitchen, he heard the shouts and cries of his soldiers as they fought and died, defending their home.  Realizing there was little time left, he found several maids and sent them on a mission.

“Bring me every one of Alise’s portraits and meet me in the throne room.”

As soon as he gave the instructions, he headed up to the large storage space, which held the family possessions he had taken down from their places of honour, replaced by his and Alise’s own personal decor when he became king.  Rummaging through the heirlooms, he finally found several large paintings.  When the maids returned with Alise’s portraits, he gave the maids his final commands.

“I want you to take these portraits and place them wherever you found Alise’s hanging.  That way, if the invaders should succeed in accessing the castle, pretend this is the reigning queen.  I will tell them she is dead.  I have sent Alise away, but hope she will find a way to spy on Rufus and his soldiers.  I fear what would happen to her should they discover her true identity.  Tell the other staff, as well.  I know I am asking a lot of you, but please be brave for her sake, if not for mine.”

“Your secret shall be safe with us, highness,” the youngest maid promised.  “We will guard you and our queen with our lives.”

“You are good people.  I hope Rufus does not treat you too badly.”

“Kind of you to say, sire.  Now, you should hide.”

“I will not hide.  I must see how the battle is fairing.”

Erowyn gave each of the ladies a peck on the cheek and left them to accomplish their tasks.  When they were out of sight, he pushed aside a large tapestry, revealing a heavy wood door.  Unlocking it, Erowyn flung it open and placed Alise’s pictures, as well as her discarded clothes, in the secret vault, hoping no enemy would find them.  Leaving the throne room, he headed for the northwest turret.  With heavy steps, he climbed to the top and looked down on the bailey.  A gaping hole was visible in the outer palisade wall, a testament to the catapult’s mighty force.  Soldiers from the invading army swarmed from a covered bridge which floated across the moat.  His men fought bravely, but were driven back.

Erowyn could not bear to see so many wounded and dying in his own yard.  He leaned over the parapet and shouted.

“Stop fighting!  I humbly surrender to King Rufus.  No more of my people need die for me.  Put down your weapons.”

“We shall defend you with our lives, sire!” the Captain of his guard shouted back as he blocked a blow with his sword.

“No, Medford.  Lay down your arms.  I will give myself to Rufus, providing he grant clemency to my staff and soldiers.”

Amid the clatter of swords on cobblestones, Erowyn wearily descended from the tower and walked into the bailey.  His soldiers bent on one knee as he passed.  Erowyn touched each man’s shoulder in an effort to give them courage – a courage he, himself, did not feel.

Those loyal to Rufus lined up with respect behind their Captain, a tall muscular man in his late twenties, his handsome features only slightly marred by a jagged scar that ran from his ear to his chin.  Erowyn knelt before him and held out both hands.  The captain bound them with twine and dragged Erowyn to his king.

*

            Once Alise cleared the brambles, she skirted the bank of the escarpment behind the castle, heading north, hoping to hide in the forested area along the distant Artemis River.  She also hoped to locate the border patrol and enlist their help in re-taking the castle.  Between the forest and the castle, there was nothing but farmland, providing little cover.  As Alise stepped into a field of waist-high grain, she was dismayed to see an orange glow to the west in the direction of the village.  Rufus’ army must have set fire to it, Alise thought with dismay.  She prayed the villagers had evacuated before the burning began, but feared many of her people had perished.

For most of the night, Alise fought with tough grain stalks as she hurried through the field.  She trudged for miles, spooked by every rustle and crack of dry tinder, afraid that, at any moment, soldiers would find her.  When the sun rose, she knew her lone figure would be too noticeable from a distance, so she curled up among the tall stems.  Awhile later, a strong wind blew up, bending the grain heads down over her huddled form.  Satisfied that she would be well hidden, she finally fell into a fitful sleep.

*

            Erowyn was marched towards a cluster of tents, on the castle side of the smouldering village, placed well out of reach of arrows and missiles that might be flung from the trebuchets of his guard posts.  He was directed to one particularly large colourful tent, bearing Rufus’ coat of arms.  The captain shoved him inside where King Rufus sat, his silver-streaked red beard resting on his round belly, which barely fit between the two gilded arms of his portable throne.

“Well, well, Erowyn.  It has been a long time since last we met,” King Rufus greeted him.

“You seem to be doing well, Rufus, judging by your portly demeanor, but I noticed that your people seemed a little too lean.”

“What are you implying, Erowyn?”

“You are too greedy, Rufus.  You have abused your power over your subjects.  And now you want to control my territory.”

“It is my destiny to rule the entire island,” Rufus said, nonchalantly.  “You either accept it or face my wrath.  It should be a simple choice.”

“I do not have to rule by fear.  By keeping my people happy, we all prosper.”

“I am sorry, Erowyn.  My astronomer has seen it in the runes.”

“You mean, ruins, because that is all that will be left, should you continue this madness.”

“I am not mad!” Rufus bellowed.  “I am a great man!”

Erowyn rolled his eyes skyward, but his action did not go unnoticed.

“Guards!” he called.  “Bring this impudent bastard to his own dungeon.  Let’s see if my royal torturer can change his attitude.”

*

            Alise jerked awake at the sound of shouting.

Not daring to move, her ears tracked the voices as they moved off towards the falls near the castle.  Erowyn once told her he felt fairly safe in his pie-shaped domain because of the deep, swift rivers that flowed along its north and southern borders.  Originating at Lake Bounty, each river tumbled majestically over the Escarpment to the east.  The castle stood on the banks of the Ascar River, which the original builders had tapped into to form the moat, which also spilled over the cliff’s edge.  Behind the castle, the Escarpment’s steep drop prevented invasion by those below, not that Alise’s father had any intention of encroaching on Erowyn’s territory.

Once the soldiers moved away and their voices were masked by the roar of the falls, Alise raised her head above the stalks.  She caught no sign of them in any direction, so she crept away from the castle through the grain.  It was a long, tedious journey.  The strong stalks cut her hands and knees as she crawled over them.  When the light finally faded, she stood and stretched her weary muscles.  Before darkness fell completely, she took her bearings and realized, with dismay, that she had veered away from the Escarpment and would have to travel further east during the night.

Hunger pangs stabbed her stomach as she weakly manoeuvred through the fields.  Her mouth was dry and she felt a little light-headed, as well as a slight chill caused by the dampness of the night.  Clutching her cloak around her slender frame, she managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other until she cleared the wheat field.  She found it easier to walk through the knee-high grasses and weeds, so was able to make up some of the time she had lost.  As she neared the tree-line, she detected the muffled roar of Artemis Falls, twin to the one by the castle.  Her racing heart slowed as she grew closer to safety.

The sun peaked above the horizon a second time since her journey began.  With its growing light, Alise made out the silhouette of a farmhouse and barn. Whispering a brief prayer of thanks, she marched on, hoping to find a kind-hearted soul who would give her shelter.  She was exhausted and hungry by the time she approached the structures, but was dismayed to find them in near ruin.  The thatched roof of the house had caved in from years of neglect and the far wall of the barn had collapsed.

Alise poked her head through the doorway of the house and groaned.  What little was left of the furniture was rotting away.  The smell of mould and decayed wood was too much for her delicate nose.  Alise wandered to the barn, hoping to find some shelter for the day.  The stench of pig manure emanated from the entrance and she feared the entire structure would tumble down around her, so she settled her weary bones into a stack of fairly clean straw that had been stacked between the house and the barn.

*

            Erowyn avoided the pitying glances of his staff as he was paraded, in chains, over the drawbridge, through the barbican and bailey and into the castle.  He was dragged through the kitchen and down the servant stairs to the dungeon.  He noticed, with dismay, that the cobwebs had been swept away in the torture chamber and lanterns hung from the rafters, illuminating all manner of metal monstrosities.  He wondered how long the prairie king, Brandis, had lasted under the torturer’s hand.  If he only knew the location of the Conqueror’s Stone, he could save himself a lot of pain, but it had been lost aeons ago.  Why could Rufus not accept this and leave the lands in peace?

Hearing a rustle, Erowyn peered into the cell he was thrust into and noticed several huddled forms.  Recognizing them as members of his court, he rushed to console them.  He turned to the guard and demanded their release.

“Unlikely,” the guard replied.  “They may prove very useful in our sovereign’s search for the truth.”

“The truth is,”Erowyn countered, “the Conqueror’s Stone was lost a thousand years hence.  Rufus is crazy if he thinks any of us knows its whereabouts.”

“We shall see.”

With that, the guard left the dungeon.  Erowyn stood by the bars and watched the guard’s back disappear into the torture chamber.  Once he was out of sight, Erowyn twisted the rod supporting the door of the cell.  It was stuck tight.

“The cells are in better shape that I thought,” he muttered.

He removed the silver buckle of his belt and began to dig at the wall where the bars were fastened.  Some of the mortar crumbled away, renewing his hope – until the guard returned, pacing up and down the cell block like a restless lion.  Any attempts to loosen the bars would be immediately noticed, so Erowyn ceased his actions, sliding to the floor in defeat.

*

            Alise was roused from a restless sleep by a soldier, swatting her bottom with the broad side of his sword.  She shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight, trying to determine if he was friend or foe.  When she recognized the dragon symbol on his chest plate as that of Rufus’ army, she shrank away from the man.

“Please, sire, do not harm me.”

The soldier let his eyes drink in every inch of the peasant girl before him as she cowered against the straw.  Her hair matched its colour and the blue he could see of her dress brought out the highlights in her eyes.  For a moment, he thought he saw defiance, but it quickly vanished as she lowered her long lashes in compliance.  She might be a fine-looking wench if her face was washed, he thought.  He reached out his hand, offering to help her to her feet.  As she stuck out her foot for balance, her dress and cloak draped away to reveal a shapely calf and dainty ankle above her peasant’s slipper.  Yes, she would do, nicely, he thought.

“Thank-you, sire,” Alise said demurely.

“There is no need to call me ‘sire’.  I am not the king.”

“Any man higher than my father’s station deserves the title, sire,” Alise told him, easily slipping into her role as a farm girl.  “And I can see by the medals on your chest that you rank highly in your army.”

“Captain of the guard,” the soldier informed her, proudly sticking out his chest.

When he removed his helmet, she studied the face of a man only a few years her senior.  A fading scar ran along his jaw but did not interfere with the angular features that some women might find attractive.  Despite being crushed by his protective metal helmet, his fair hair maintained its waves.  His most prominent feature was his dark brown eyes.  Well-spaced over his broad nose, they were framed by thick lashes, making them appear almost feminine, but Alise was not about to assume they could only express kindness.

When he raised his chin with haughty self-importance, Alise thought, now would be the perfect time to slash his throat, if I only had a dagger.  She hid her devious thoughts behind a sweet smile, then affected a blush, as though she was flattered by his lascivious appraisal of her.

“Do you have a name other than ‘Captain’?” she asked.

“Leopold Urbania,” he stated.  “You can call me Leo.”

“Do you have a wife waiting for you, Leo?”

“A soldier has little time for courting,” he said.  “Especially when our sovereign is a man with such vision.  We are constantly on the move.”

“And yet, you have the time to spend with me,” Alise said with a small smile.  “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“In the heat of battle, I might have taken you without a single thought, but as we are now searching the area for rebels and conspirators, I can take my leisure with you.”

“How do you know I am not a rebel or a conspirator?” Alise asked, peering seductively at him through lowered lashes.  “Perhaps I would slit your throat, if given half a chance.”

“I do not believe you have a killer’s instinct.”  He paused, staring at her intently.  “Still, perhaps now would not be the best time for pleasure.  Come with me.”

He brought her to his horse and leaped into the saddle.  He reached down for her.  Alise hiked up her skirts and placed a foot in the stirrup.  With the Captain’s assistance, she swung her bottom onto the horse’s hind quarters.  Sitting side-saddle, she clutched Leopold’s waist and, together, they rode towards the castle, arriving in a quarter of the time it took Alise to walk the same distance.

As they approached the drawbridge, Alise was dismayed to see the gaping hole in the palisade wall where the trebuchet had breached it with its missiles.  Stone masons were in the process of repairing the damage, but Alise feared it would never be strong enough to fend off another attack in the future.

“King Rufus has allowed me to occupy a suite within Erowyn’s castle,” Leopold said as he helped her dismount.

When Alise noticed the curious stares of the townspeople gathered in the bailey, she quickly pulled her cloak up over her head, keeping her face in shadow.

“I will inform the guards that you are my guest.  He will find someone to take you to my quarters.  Wait for me there.”

“I will, sire.  Thank-you for your kindness.  I had heard such terrible things of King Rufus’ soldiers that I feared for my life and virtue.  You have proven not all rumours are true.”

“You realize, of course, that if you remain in my company, I will expect you to be my consort.”

“You appear to be a kind and gentle man,” Alise began softly.  “You are powerful and not without your beauty.  My father once told me that a man such as you would give me strong and handsome sons.  A woman could do a lot worse.”

Leo grew instantly suspicious of her.  Most women of this kingdom had spat in his face or tried to rip his eyes out.  Mind you, he had encountered women in other counties who would do anything to survive, even betray their own countrymen, to gain favour with the leaders of a conquering force.  Perhaps this farmer’s daughter was such as those.  He decided to take the chance and escorted her to the castle keep.  After a brief word to the guard at the door, Leo left the woman in his care.  Some time later, he suddenly realized that he had never asked her name.

Island From The Stars

(copyright 1997)

 CHAPTER 1

“Mayday!  Mayday!”

The pilot of the DC 3 cargo plane was frantic, fighting the sudden appearance of a severe storm system.  Gale-force winds tossed the heavy craft around like a ping pong ball.  Jagged flashes of light ripped the black clouds apart.  Rain streamed across the windows, making it impossible to see a thing beyond the wings.  The pilots attempted to descend below the cloud cover.

The twenty-two people on board had started from Tahiti two hours ago, destined for a small island to the east where a developer was building an exclusive resort.  Most were part of the excavation crew returning from leave, but also included were two cooks, a doctoer, a nurse, the architect and the manager representing the hotel owner.

The construction firm’s engineer and co-owner, Alexander Stern, peered through the bleary window to his left as shards of light slashed through the dark wall of cotton surrounding the plane.  The fearful wrenching in his gut was replaced by a horrific shudder at the sight of one such lightning bolt striking the engine on the left wing.  The sparks begat a fire.  Fierce orange flames defied the rain.

*

            An air traffic controller in the tower near Papeete, Tahiti, called to his supervisor.

“We’ve lost them, sir.  Here are their last known co-ordinates.  They were caught in the storm and cannot relay anything more specific.  Their instruments were knocked out by lightning and they’re flying by the seat of their pants.  Our radar is no longer tracking them.  They’re either flying too low, or they’ve already crashed somewhere.”

“We can’t send out any rescue teams until this storm breaks.  Keep trying to contact them.  If they’re lucky, they’ll have found a place to set down and we’ll find them when the storm’s over.  If not, Moonstar Construction is out an excavation team and equipment.”

*

            Sparks spat out from the instrument panel.  The gauges and dials were inoperable.  The plane careened to the right, breaking through the cloud cover.  The remaining engine whined loudly as they dove, the ocean looming sickeningly closer.  The pilots struggled to keep the craft airborne.

“Look, Charlie!”  said the co-pilot.  “Over there!  Land!  Let’s head for it.  It may be our only chance.  Even if we don’t quite reach it, we may still be able to swim for it.  It’s the only land for miles.”

“Not much vegetation, John.  It looks more like a reef than an island and pretty rocky, at that.  I can’t see any flat place to land.”

“Maybe if we try to land on the water and coast into the beach?”  John suggested.

“I don’t know.  It’s pretty risky.  You’d better go back and warn the others.  We’re going down.”

John stepped through the cockpit door and surveyed the passengers.  Most were clutching their seats tightly, eyes wide with terror.  It came as no surprise to them when the co-pilot made his announcement.

“Folks, you’d better prepare yourselves for an emergency landing.  You know the procedure.  Life jackets are in the compartments above your heads, the seat cushions are flotation devices.  Once your jackets are on, assume a crash position.”

“Are we going to land in the water?”  one of the women asked fearfully.  “Because I can’t swim.”

“I hope not,”  John sighed.  “We’re aiming for that island out there, but we may not reach it.  I’ve got to get back.  There’s not much time.”

Alex reached up and brought out two life jackets, passing one to his seat mate.

“Thanks,”  she said quietly.

Her brown eyes could not hide her dread.  Her bottom lip trembled slightly as she fumbled with the strap of her jacket.

“Here, let me help you,”  he offered.

Carol flashed him a weak smile.

“OK.  Now, bend over and protect your head, like this,”  he demonstrated, placing his head between his knees, clasping his hands over his head.

Carol glanced quickly at the other passengers, who were doing the same.  The chatter had ceased.  Everyone was silently preparing themselves for the worst.  Out the window, she could see the large waves, white-capped and menacing, only a few yards below them.  She put her head down.

The pilot struggled to pull the nose of the plane up, but the controls only shook in his hands.  Seeing the rocky reef loom up in front of him, he tried to pull up.  The sound of ripping steelcould be heard as the right wing was torn off by a ridge jutting out of the island.  The cockpit slammed into the cliff ahead of them.  Metal and equipment spewed everywhere.

*

            When Alex came to, it was pitch black inside the cabin.  Something trickled into his eyes.  He wiped away the blood flowing from a gash above his brow with his sleeve and attempted to stand, but found himself immobilized, his leg pinned under the seat.

There was a soft moan beside him.

“Carol?  Are you alright?”

“I think so, although I’ve got a splitting headache.  How are you?”

“My leg’s stuck.  I can’t get loose.”

“Let me see if I can free you.”

Carol placed her back against the seat in front of her and pushed her feet against the one pinning Alex.  She managed to force it back enough for Alex to drag his leg out, then helped him to his feet.  Alex stood carefully, testing how much weight he could withstand.  Fortunately, his leg did not seem to be broken.

There was little light with which to survey the wreckage, but as others began to stir, Alex and Carol followed the sounds, tripping over debris and bodies.  Sobs and sniffles led them to another of the female passengers, who was rocking the lifeless body of the young man that had been sitting beside her.

“Janine?”

She didn’t respond, her eyes staring off into space.

“Janine!”  Alex shook her, forcing her to look at him.  “Come on, now.  You have to be strong.  We’re going to need your help.”

Janine nodded sadly and rose, giving her nephew one last hug before rising and helping Carol and Alex with their gruesome task.  They determined that, in addition to the pilots, five of their co-workers did not survive the crash.  Several had broken limbs, the jagged pieces of bone piercing the skin.  Many had large gashes, bleeding profusely, that needed immediate attention.

Carol managed to find her medical bag in the rubble and with help from Janine, Alex, and Lanai, the nurse, managed to set most of the broken bones and prevent others from bleeding to death.  By the time they had finished, the darkness of the storm had been replaced by the night.  Neither stars nor moon could penetrate the thick blanket of clouds, increasing the gloom.

Alex felt his way to the cargo hold, stumbling over dislodged seats, chunks of metal torn from the hull and reams of wires.  Guided by an occassional  flash of lightning, he managed to find the portable generator.  Fortunately, it had not been damaged in the crash and he was able to hook it up to some of the cabin lights.  He also found a crate of food and some blankets to help get them through the night.

Rain drummed against the hull like crazed savages, some of it trickling through cracks in the hull.  The fifteen survivors huddled together to keep dry and warm, but their morale was low, as each rumble of thunder reminded them that the worst of the storm was not yet over.

“What’s going to happen to us?”  Janine asked in a quavering voice.

“I guess we just sit tight until somebody finds us,”  Alex responded.  “When the rain stops, we’ll light a signal fire.  Don’t worry.  It shouldn’t take too long for them to rescue us.”

Alex studied the battered, frightened faces of his companions.  He felt more than a little responsible for their fate.  Being chief engineer and part owner of Moonstar Construction, he had been involved in the hiring of most of the crew.  Except for the three surviving locals, Bill Kalakua, Dan Pahua and Mani Halei, most of the men with this project had worked for him before.

Moonstar had also used the architectural genius of Janine DeGagne in the past, and she had accompanied them to many other isolated projects, assisting in re-designs on site.  She enjoyed camping with her husband and three boys, so did not mind the rough conditions associated with out-of-town jobs.  It was a shame that her nephew had died in the crash.  He had been eager to learn the construction trade from the bottom up and had really been looking forward to working with his ‘tante Janine’.

Just then, Carol rose to attend to one of her patients.  Alex watched as she bent over him.  The lovely Latino doctor was proving to be even more of an asset than he’d first thought.  Her internship at a jungle hospital in South America had made her the perfect choice for this project.  She seemed used to primitive conditions.

Her nurse, Lanai, was putting her emergency and O.R. experience to good use.  Although she had taken her training in Hawaii and spent three years at Honolulu General, she had decided to return to Papeete to help her people.  Her knowledge of the neighbouring islands and the language were two of the main reasons they had hired her.

Glenn, a welder, moaned beside him.  Alex had known him for almost fifteen years, first as a co-worker, then employee when Moonstar opened its doors five years ago.  Glenn had suffered a fractured tibia and a dislocated shoulder, experiencing a great deal of pain, but Carol was hesitant to use too much of the painkillers since there was no way of telling how long they would be stranded.

Alex got up and stretched. Returning to the cargo bay, he located his gunnysack which had wedged itself between two crates, protecting it from being tossed about in the crash.  He brought the back to Glenn and opened it.  Pulling out a dented metal flask, Alex offered Glenn a sip of whiskey.

“Thanks, boss.”

“Don’t mention it.  I hope it helps.”

“Mr. Stern?”  The young cook’s voice held the hint of a tremor.  “How long do you think it will be before they find us?”

“I really can’t say, Joy.  I don’t know if we were blown off course by the storm, or whether radar had a fix on us when we went down.  If they know where we are, they’ll be by as soon as the storm ends, so we’ll probably be found in the morning.  Try not to worry.  We’ll be fine.”

Everyone looked around for a comfortable spot in which to curl up for the night.  The injured slept fitfully, waking the medical staff when the pain became too great to bear.  Others were too worried and uncomfortable to sleep, except for short periods.

Alex rose with the dawn.  Most of the others had finally dozed off, but he had been unable to do the same.  The storm had broken and the sun was beginning to peek above the horizon, creating a rosy glow – not exactly comforting, considering the old adage about a ‘red sky in the morning’.  He stepped over mangled pieces of metal and broken glass to the foreward hatch, grimacing as he passed the remains of the cockpit and the mutilated bodies of the pilots.

Turning away, he headed for the beach.  Actually, it wasn’t much of a beach.  The entire island appeared to be one large coral reef.  Its bleached and ragged surface showed no signs of vegetation.  In the middle, a cone-shaped ridge rose up as though it were the top of an undersea volcano poking up out of the ocean, encased by tiny sea creatures.

Further down the coast, were indentations in the rock formations that had caught rainwater from last night’s storm.  Alex ran back to find containers to hold the precious liquid before it evaporated in the bright tropical sun.

Bill and Danny were awake when he returned.

“It’s starting to get hot already,”  he told them.  “I found some fresh water we should collect.  Let’s rinse out these containers from our dinner and pick up as much as we can.”

Alex was used to taking charge of a situation and he soon organized those who were able.  Some collected the water.  One was responsible for starting and maintaining a signal fire, using wood from packing crates and the lumber they had brought with them for the project.  Others gathered debris to form an S.O.S. on a flat area near the shore.  A small radio was found in the luggage, but all they received was static, unable to pick up the signals from any of the Papeete stations.

By late afternoon, there was still no sign of rescue teams.  No aircraft had flown over and they had not seen any boats.  Morale was waning.

“Why aren’t they looking for us?”  asked Joy.

“Maybe they’re just looking in the wrong place.  If we were off course, it will take a little longer to find us.  Tomorrow they’ll expand the search area.  It’s too bad the radio in the cockpit was destroyed, but don’t worry.”

“That’s what you said yesterday, and we’re still here!”

One of the plumbers was becoming increasingly belligerent.

“Take it easy, Don.  We’re all feeling scared and frustrated.  We’re doing all we can to keep the situation bearable.  Be thankful you’re not one of the injured.  We will get off this island, but it will take some time.  You’ll have to sit tight, like the rest of us.”

Don retreated to a corner of the plane to sulk.

“Can I talk to you in private?”  Carol whispered in Alex’s ear.

They stepped outside.  The afternoon heat was beginning to dissipate a little, wavering on the horizon as the sun descended.

“I’m worried about Glenn and two of the others.  I suspect internal bleeding, but there’s so little I can do.  I may need to go in and repair the damage, but my medical kit does not include sutures or a scalpel.  It’s quite possible they’ll die before we’re rescued.”

“We’ll have to make them as comfortable as possible.  Don’t tell anyone else of their conditions.  We don’t want them any more worried than they are already.”

Carol nodded her agreement.  Alex studied her face, noticing the signs of strain around her dark, arresting eyes.

“How are you holding up?”

“A little tired, but I’m sort of used to that.”  She gave him a wry smile.  “When you told me things would be primitive on this job, you weren’t kidding, were you?”

Alex chuckled.  “I’m glad you still have a sense of humour after all of this.”

“A jungle hospital is no picnic, either.  I’ve seen so much pain, so much suffering; malnourished children, injuries caused by drug wars . . .”  She shook her head.  “I thought I was tough enough to handle anything.  I guess I was wrong.”

Carol took a few steps away and turned her back to him, crossing her arms across her chest.  The two of them stood in silence, watching the sun dip into the ocean, painting the clouds shades of pink and mauve.

Janine emerged from the broken plane and wandered over to them.

“Beautiful sunset,”  she commented.

Carol only nodded.  She turned away and headed back into the plane.  Janine glanced at her curiously, but said nothing.

“You look tired,”  Alex said to her.

“I’m OK, I guess,”  Janine sighed.  “I wonder what my men are doing right now?”

“Probably the same thing, looking at the sunset and wondering how you are.”

“Do you think there is anything on the news about our crash?”  she asked.

“Locally, maybe.  I doubt whether a broadcast would have reached California.  Your guys probably think you’re playing poker with the workers, like usual.”

He winked at her.  Janine smiled, then her eyes filled with tears.

“What am I going to tell my sister about Stephan?”

She choked on a sob.  Alex held out his arms and gave her a squeeze.  She rested her head against his chest.  Tears dampened his shirt.

“I’m sorry about your nephew.  He seemed like a nice kid.”

“He had so much going for him.  He was so young.”  She paused.  “You know, if we had to crash though, I’m glad you’re here.  We’ve known each other a long time.  If worse comes to worst, I’d like you to be the one to tell Jake and the boys, should anything happen to me.  Would you do that for me?”

“Of course, but nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Janine wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffed.

“How can you be so calm?”

Alex shrugged.  “I get paid to see a project through to its completion, despite adversity.  This is just a minor setback.”

“A minor setback!”  a voice exclaimed behind them.

They whirled around to see the hotel’s representative, hands on her hips, glaring at them through dark-rimmed glasses.  She wore a tweed skirt and jacket, dusty and tattered.  Her black hair that had once been pulled back in a bun, now had long strands hanging past her chin, her face streaked with dirt.

“Do you realize how much this ‘minor setback’ is going to cost the hotel chain?  And your company, too, I might add.  We’ve already lost two days of work, not to mention all the equipment that was wrecked in the crash, plus the wood we’re burning in the signal fire.  Do you realize how expensive lumber is these days?”

“Look, Claire . . .”

“That’s Ms. Willis to you, Mr. Stern.”

“Fine.  Ms. Willis, the material costs do not mean as much to me as the lives that have been lost, so far . . .”

“And that’s another thing.  We’ll have to replace the dead workers and probably those who are too injured to work after we get off this rock!”

Alex’s jaw tightened as he attempted to keep his cool.  Janine rolled her eyes at him before discretely slipping away.

“Ms. Willis, our companies have insurance that will cover the costs incurred by the crash.  You’re lucky you were not injured.”

“Spare me your sentiment.  I knew it was a mistake to fly with the work crew.”

“As you may recall, I suggested you wait and come after the next phase had been completed, but you insisted on coming with us.”

“That’s because I was certain you were trying to hide something.  That’s why you didn’t want me to come.”

“I was only thinking of your comfort.  The temporary shelters are not exactly what you are used to.  I didn’t think you would be happy staying there.”

“Well, I’m certainly not happy about staying here!”

“You act as though I were responsible for the crash!”

“I have to blame someone.  Didn’t the pilots realize there was a storm on its way?”

“I have no idea.  If they were aware of it, they probably didn’t realize how severe it would be, or else they thought they could steer around it.  At any rate, I don’t think it’s productive to cast blame for something like this.  We just have to make the most of it.”

“This is intolerable!  Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

“I doubt that too many of us have ever been in a plane crash before, either.”

She huffed as though he had insulted her and stomped away.  Without warning, she stumbled, her high heel caught in a hole.  Alex rushed to help her up, but she shooed him away.

“I can manage quite well, thank you.”  However, as Ms. Willis tried to stand she groaned,  “Damn!  I’ve twisted my ankle.  Could you help me?”

“I thought you could manage quite well without me.”

She scowled at him.  “Help me!”

“Say please.”

“Please help me.  My ankle’s beginning to swell.”

With a carefully concealed grin, Alex galantly scooped her up and carried her into the plane, laying her gently on a pile of blankets.

“I have another patient for you, Carol.”

“What did you do to her?”  Janine whispered in his ear.  “Slug her?”

“No,”  he grinned.  “She twisted her ankle on the coral.”

“Too bad,”  Janine replied, her voice still low.  “I would love to see her with a black eye!”

RED STONE

(copyright 2000)

CHAPTER 1

The floor of the small bungalow trembled slightly as though a large truck rumbled down the street. Sabrina expected the sensation to cease, but it only increased in intensity until the dishes in the china cabinet began chattering. A picture bounced off the wall, its glass fracturing into a spider web of cracks that splayed across her family. Sabrina’s body began to shake and her arms windmilled to maintain her balance. She teetered towards the doorway in the living room, gripping its frame to keep from falling. A vase shimmied across the dining table and smashed to the floor. From the kitchen came the sounds of dishes shattering as they tumbled from the counter.

Sabrina silently cursed her older brother for being right. He had warned them all about the dangers of residing on the west coast, saying that ‘The Big One’ was just around the corner and would submerge most of the western coastline. She had scoffed, certain nothing like that would happen in her lifetime. Nevertheless, when her father was offered a promotion with a parent company in British Columbia, she and her parents chose a new home on the outskirts of Vancouver, nestled up against the foothills, hoping they would be relatively safe in the event of a major quake. However, as of late, the tremors had become more frequent, bringing fearful truth to her brother’s words.

The rest of Sabrina’s family refused to leave, though. They all preferred the temperate, albeit damper, winter weather; with much less snow to shovel. Sabrina did not miss the thirty below temperatures that used to chill her to the bone while she was growing up in the keystone province. The majesty of the mountains and the tart salt air had drawn them all from the prairies, and Sabrina was determined not to allow a few earth shakes to drive them from the beauty of this place. Besides, her Dad loved his new job and she had made some terrific friends at school.  She wanted to stick around another year so they could all graduate together.

Abruptly the quake stopped and Sabrina sighed her relief. She wandered through the lavish four-bedroom home to assess the damage, picking up shards of glass and china as she went. Fortunately, there was no apparent damage to the actual structure of the house. There were only a few items that had broken, nothing that was irreplaceable.

Just then, the phone rang.

“Sabrina?” her mother’s voice asked on the other end of the line.  “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she answered. “A little shaken, that’s all. A few things got broken.”

“Things can always be replaced. People can’t,” her mother said. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

Suddenly, Sabrina heard a scratching and whining at the back door. Her heart nearly burst. How could she have forgotten about her darling Sheltie?

“Mom, I gotta go get Shelby. She was outside when it happened. She’s probably scared to death.”

“All right, then,” he mother replied. “Your Dad and I are just about to pick up the twins from Cub Scouts, then we’ll be on our way home. You go take care of Shelby.”

Sabrina hung up the phone and flung open the back door. Shelby bounded into her waiting arms.

“Sorry, Shelby,” she murmured, stroking her pet’s long silky fur. “I forgot about you in the all commotion. You must be beside yourself! I’ll make it up to you. Let’s go for a walk.”

At her final word the tiny collie pricked up her ears and headed for the closet where her owner kept the leash. Sabrina smiled and latched the leather strap to Shelby’s collar. Stuffing a rubber glove and a plastic bag into her jacket pocket, she stepped into the twilight, her pet squeezing between her legs and the doorframe to scurry outside.

People were still bustling around the normally quiet neighbourhood, checking the aftermath of the quake. Questioning a few of her neighbours, Sabrina discovered that only minor damages had occurred to them as well and she breathed easier. She walked more confidently to the wooded area nearby, a cool evening breeze caressing her face.

Shelby strained at her leash, urging her mistress to walk a little faster. Something seemed to be calling to her and Sabrina knew the Sheltie would not want to miss the opportunity for a chase. Finally, they reached the path and Sabrina leaned down to release her pet, knowing the animal would return after leaving her mark in all the usual places, and hoping there would not be too much of a mess to clean up afterwards. Shelby hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Sabrina as though she needed her mistress to follow this time. The small collie nipped at her ankle, pulling at the hem of her jeans. Sabrina was puzzled by the uncharacteristic behaviour.

“What is it, girl? What’s got your fur in a frenzy tonight?”

The dog’s only reply was to tug harder at her pant leg.

“Alright! Alright, I’m coming!”

With a shrug, Sabrina stepped hesitantly into the woods behind the agitated animal. Darkness surrounded her and it took a moment for Sabrina’s eyes to adjust. Moonlight filtered through the tree branches, illuminating patches of the path up ahead.  Shelby barked sharply for Sabrina to hurry. They tripped along the gravel path for several yards, before Shelby dashed into the underbrush. Sabrina peered into blackness. All she could see were Shelby’s eyes, two glowing orbs staring at her a foot above the mossy forest floor.

“I’m not going in there,” Sabrina stated, hands on her hips. “You might be able to see where you’re going, but I can’t.”

Shelby cocked her head to one side and whined. She looked off in the direction she wanted to go, then back at her owner. Another whine and Sabrina conceded. Sweeping aside a low branch, she placed her foot gingerly over a shrub by the edge of the path, stepping into the gloom. Shelby darted away, again, convinced her mistress would tag along after her.

“Shelby, wait!”

Stumbling over an exposed root, Sabrina tried grabbing onto a mossy tree trunk. Her hand met a cool, slimy surface and she cursed her pet under her breath.

“Damn her!”

Suddenly, she heard a yelp, then silence.

“Shelby? Shelby!” she called, her voice rising in panic.

Sabrina ran in the direction of the yelp, dodging tree branches and thorn bushes. Next thing she knew, she was hurtling through space, landing with considerable force. The wind was knocked out of her. Her head swam dizzyingly and it took a few moments to catch her breath. Rolling over to a sitting position, she felt herself all over and was surprised to find there were no serious injuries. She had a slight bump on the head and a bruise on her arm, but that was all. She had been fortunate that the ground on which she had fallen was relatively soft. Her major problem seemed to be her sight. She worried that her fall had jarred her so severely that she had been blinded. To test that theory, she fumbled for her watch and pressed the tiny button. When she saw the luminous green glow of the numbers, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Blinking several times, she tried forcing her eyes to adjust to the incredible blackness around her. She looked overhead to find the moon, but there was no light above her. She tried to stand, her hands spread wide, hoping to feel something with which to guide herself out of this place. She rose unsteadily, unable to balance. With nothing to focus on, she could not tell if she was upright, or upside down.

Something brushed past her leg and she screamed. Her voice sounded strangely muffled, as though she was in a soundproofed room. Her heart pounded and she felt on the verge of hysteria. A whining to her left made her turn – slowly, in order to maintain her fragile equilibrium.

“Shelby?” she whispered.

The dog returned her call with a muted whimper. Sabrina dropped to her knees and crawled towards the sound. Soon, she felt a cold nose on her cheek and a wet tongue.

“I’m happy to find you too, girl,” Sabrina said softly. “Where do you suppose we are, huh?”

She slid her hand over the slight body that quivered with fear. She tried to reassure her pet, scratching her forehead, behind her ear. Judging by Shelby’s actions, Sabrina realized that her pet could see no better than she. Holding the dog tightly, she tried desperately to pierce the darkness with her usually good eyes.  She could not remember ever finding herself in such total blackness before this. Often she would manoeuvre around her house without bothering to turn on a light and could manage as well as any blind person, knowing every nook and cranny. Even then, there was always some identifiable shape or shadow, however faint it may be. Here, there was nothing, like being in a void that no light could penetrate.

An indeterminable length of time passed as Sabrina tried to figure out what to do. Finally, she fumbled with Shelby’s collar, hooking the leash back on so they wouldn’t lose each other again. Then, she crept on hands and knees, hoping she was heading back in the direction they had come. Her knees began to ache and Sabrina contemplated trying to stand again. The ground felt soft and crumbly, but relatively level, so she made the attempt. She managed better this time and eased along, holding one hand in front of her, in case she met with an obstacle. With her other hand looped through the leash’s handle, she spread it out to the side to help with balance.

Sabrina felt the reluctant tug of the leash as Shelby shuffled along behind her, occasionally bumping her calf with her snout. Their quiet footfalls were the only sounds she heard. Time was impossible to gauge without looking at her watch. Although it had been only forty minutes, it seemed as though they had been walking for hours, meeting nothing, touching nothing. Then, quite abruptly, her fingertips met with a damp crumbly surface like the ground beneath her feet. Using both hands, she explored the size of the obstruction.  She followed the surface to the ground, determining it must be a wall. The question was, which direction would lead her out of here?  She crouched beside her pet, rubbing her soft underbelly.

“What do you think, girl? Which way?”

She heard Shelby snuffling and felt her nose waving in the air. Shelby pulled Sabrina to the left.

“Ok. Left it is.”

With fingertips guiding her along the wall, she relied on the dog’s instinct to find the way home. Suddenly, her hand met with a cold hard surface and red light suffused the void. Startled, she jerked her hand away from the wall. Blackness engulfed her once more. Slowly, Sabrina reached for the wall again, but felt only the earthen surface. She slid her hand along the wall, searching for the object she had felt imbedded there. When she finally found it, a red glow illuminated the area, once again.

Without removing her hand from the object this time, Sabrina took in her surroundings. She found herself in a massive underground passage hollowed out of what appeared to be soft dirt. The passageway curved out of sight in both directions. Studying the object her hand encountered, she found it to be a shiny red stone sunk into the passage wall. Experimentally, she took her hand off the stone. Darkness descended. Touching the stone, the odd light returned like being in a photography darkroom that was illuminated by a single red bulb. Similar stones glowed up and down the wall at varying levels, but they were only noticeable when Sabrina touched the stone under her hand. The opposite wall was equally adorned.

The stone was unlike any sort of light switch Sabrina had ever seen before and, noticing Shelby’s lack of reaction, assumed the dog was unaffected by the glow. The miniature collie still sniffed the air as though she could not see a thing. On a hunch, Sabrina dug her fingernails into the dirt around the stone. She managed to pry it loose and held it in the palm of her hand. It was about the size of a nectarine, its multi-faceted surface uneven, like an uncut ruby. Bending down on one knee, she placed the stone to the dog’s body. Shelby started, then glanced about, blinking. She looked up at Sabrina with a silly dog-grin and began nuzzling her owner’s neck.

Sabrina scooped the dog into her arms and rose, making sure the stone was in contact with both of them. She did not know why it should be, but the stone gave them the ability to see in the dark, like a soldier with night-vision goggles. In this manner, they continued along the passage, wondering whether they would ever find their way out of this weird underground world.

Sabrina stopped still when, from around the bend, came the eerie sounds of voices, heavy footsteps, rattling chains, moans and groans.

Not friendly sounds.

Frantically, Sabrina studied the walls. A few feet ahead of her, a deep depression presented itself. She slipped into it, pressing herself flat against the side, clamping a hand around Shelby’s muzzle.

“Shhh,” she whispered in the dog’s ear.

Shelby sensed the danger and urgency in Sabrina’s voice. She uttered not a whimper as a grotesque creature stomped by holding a thick heavy chain attached to several hapless humans, stumbling blindly behind their captor. Once the troupe had passed, Sabrina slunk around the bend, out of sight.

She shuddered at the sight of the ape-like ‘master’, for want of a more appropriate name. He had been considerably larger, in all proportions, from his captives, standing roughly eight feet tall with a short thick neck, bulbous nose, and beady black eyes. He was covered with shaggy fur that also surrounded his face, hanging off his chin like a beard. His bare feet were like black leather and enormous. Sabrina estimated they were at least twenty-four inches long and twelve wide. His only clothing was a leather loincloth and a metal chest plate into which was set a large ruby-like jewel, a copy of the red stones that Sabrina had found.

In all her life, Sabrina had not seen its like, except in myths and legends. More than ever, she wondered what sort of strange world she had stumbled into, wanting desperately to find the way out. It was obvious that these ape people did not have much respect for her kind.

A twinge of guilt made her pause. Should she try to release the poor people from their chains? But where would she lead them? Until she was certain she could find a way out of this place, she wouldn’t do the prisoners much good, especially if she ended up getting herself captured, as well.

From out of nowhere, something lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. The stone spun out of her grip and skittered out of reach. Shelby yelped as Sabrina’s arm caught her across the back.

“Sorry, Shelby,” she muttered.

Completely blind once more, she knelt on hands and knees, feeling the ground for the stone.

“Hello? Is someone there?” a dazed male voice asked. “Where am I? I can’t see a blasted thing!”

“Damned if I know,” Sabrina answered. “Stay where you are for a moment. I’ll be right there.”

She moved towards the wall, fingers searching until they came in contact with another of the mysterious red gems. It was smaller than the last one, its power considerably less, but at least she could make out shapes. She managed to pry it loose, and moved towards the mystery man, who was kneeling a few feet away. It was difficult to distinguish his features in the dim light. All she could determine was, he was human.

Shelby sat whimpering at her feet, so Sabrina touched the stone to her fur. The dog calmed immediately, not objecting to being carried. Sabrina caught sight of the fallen gem and snatched it up as well. The passage brightened considerably and she studied the young man’s face. It was rugged, with a nose slightly askew as though once broken. A strand of hair hung down over one eyebrow.  His dark eyes were unseeing.

The man cocked his head, following her with his ears as he heard her shuffling around in the pitch-dark tunnel. He found it disconcerting not to be able to see anything. A slender hand took his and placed something cold into it. Suddenly, a red glow shone all around him. The girl peered at him, curiously. She was of slight build in her late teens, pale hair tumbling about her shoulders. Her mouth curved into a quirky grin as she met his stare.

“How did I get here?” he asked. “And where is ‘here’?”

“Same as me, I suppose, and I don’t know.”

“Where is the light coming from?”

“The stone, I think. I don’t understand how it works, but it seems capable of letting us see our surroundings. Did you fall through a hole, or something?”

“I don’t remember actually seeing a hole,” he replied, “but I felt myself falling for what seemed like forever. How did you get here?”

“Same story, pretty much. By the way, I’m Sabrina Thompson.”

“Victor Atkins – Vic, to my friends. So, how do we get out of here?”

“Wish I knew. I’ve been wandering for some time, now.”

Heavy footfalls could be heard coming towards them from the direction the ape-like man had gone. Sabrina scrambled to her feet, tucking the larger of the two gems between her and Shelby, who snuggled into the crook of her arm.

“No time to explain,” she whispered to her newfound companion. “Just hang onto the stone, and let’s get out of here.”

She darted away from the footsteps, stopped and turned, when Vic made no move to follow.

“Come on! Believe me when I tell you, you really don’t want to meet the creatures who live down here!”

Needing no further encouragement, Vic dashed after her. They ran as stealthily as they could. Sabrina prayed they would not encounter anything unfriendly around the next bend. Instead, a fork opened up before them. She hesitated. Which way was safest?

Something tramped towards them from the right. Sabrina and Vic ducked into the left passage, just as another ape-man appeared. They held their breath, as they watched his hairy back fade into the shadows. Sabrina glanced at her companion. His eyes were wide, unbelieving. He shook his head.

“What is that thing?”

“I have no idea, but I saw another one leading three people away in chains. I guess they don’t take kindly to us just dropping in on them like this. That’s why I wanted to get away.”

“Shouldn’t we help the others?”

“I already thought of that, but how much good would it do them, if we don’t even know how to get ourselves out of here?”

“You’re right, I suppose, unless one of them knows the way.”

Sabrina’s eyes rose to the ceiling, but she was surprised to find no evidence of a roof over the passage. Whatever was up there was shrouded in shadow.

“It’s as though there is no end to the height,” she mused aloud. “Maybe if we climbed up, we would find an exit.”

She set Shelby on the ground and examined the wall. The red stones imbedded in the clay were too far apart to use as footholds, like the climbing wall in the school gym. Sabrina began to claw at the soft clay of the wall, digging out a depression deep enough into which to fit her toes. Her fingertips began stinging and she stopped, wondering what she may have in her pouch to assist her. She pulled out her house keys, choosing the large metal ‘S’ attached to the chain to gouge at the clay wall. She removed the loosened dirt with her hands. Further up, she made another indentation. When she had completed four grooves at varying heights, she started to climb. Then she began the process over again.

Occasionally, she used one of the larger red stones as a step. Vic watched her agonizingly slow progress until he saw only her feet. The rest of her was bathed in darkness. A few minutes later she descended.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked. “Oh! Could you bring Shelby with you?”

Vic shook his head with a grin. He partially unzipped the front of his light jacket and stuffed the dog inside. Sticking a tentative foot in the lowest depression, he tested its strength. It appeared to hold his weight, so he proceeded to climb up behind Sabrina. After climbing about twenty feet, he could no longer see the passage floor, and above he could only see the soles of Sabrina’s feet. However, he did hear muffled voices below – gruff, gravely voices arguing loudly. Vic touched Sabrina’s foot to prevent her from digging.

“How should I know where they’re coming from? Maybe they are the ones to make the ground shake. Maybe they are trying to destroy our homes!” a deep voice grumbled.

“Those puny hairless things? Then why would they appear without weapons and blind as bats?”

“I do not have the answers. We should ask to speak to the king. He will know what to do.”

With that, their heavy footsteps receded and the cavernous passage returned to silence.

“Did you hear that?” Vic whispered.

“Yes. Do you think the earthquake could have opened a doorway to this underground community?”

“In all likelihood. Maybe we could convince them that we stumbled upon their home by accident and ask them to help us get back?”

“I don’t want to risk being chained like the others. Let’s keep climbing. Eventually, we should at least hit the roof of this place and try to dig our way through.”

“Alright, but if we don’t come across something soon, I’m climbing back down and taking my chances with those ape people.”

“Agreed.”

Sabrina’s arms were aching and her fingernails were ragged and torn. She would welcome a breeze, or any kind of natural light at this point, but she continued to scratch out footholds until she noticed spindly grass roots poking through the sandy clay.

“I think we’re nearly there!”

Her head bumped against something and she looked up. She had finally reached a ceiling of sorts, composed of mud and roots. She tried to punch through, hoping it was not very thick, but all she got for her trouble was a mouth full of dirt. She spit it out, snorted the dust from her nose and shook earth from her hair. Vic climbed up beside her, having forged his own footholds.

“Do you think we can dig through?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to try.”

Although her fingertips were already sore and bleeding, she made a valiant effort to get past the sod. Vic lent his hands to the same purpose and together they managed to put quite a dent in the ceiling, but it still wasn’t enough to complete the job. Weary and discouraged, Sabrina wiped away tears of frustration with the back of her hands.

“I guess we’ve got no choice. We’ll have to go back down.”

Just then, the ground began to tremble. The earth above their heads began to crumble. Vic and Sabrina clutched precariously to the passage wall. A section of the ceiling crashed down on their heads, and a dusty beam of moonlight filtered down on them.

“We did it!” Sabrina shouted. “Come on!”

She pulled away the loosened dirt until there was a hole big enough to crawl through. She dragged herself up onto the dew-covered grass and flung herself on her back, totally exhausted. Vic scrambled up beside her and Shelby bounded out of his jacket onto Sabrina’s stomach. Her owner let out an ‘oomph!’ then rubbed the happy pooch behind her ears.

Sabrina struggled to a sitting position with Shelby in her lap and turned to Vic.  He dug inside his shirt and pulled out the gem. Tossing it into the air a couple of times, he let it fall into the palm of his hand and stared at it. Glancing about, the woods appeared to be bright as day, except for a reddish glow. Then, he looked down into the hole at his feet. Without the gem, he could not tell that there was a hole in the ground, only a dark area without substance. With the power of the stone, he could make out the vague reddish outlines of the underworld for ten feet or so, until it vanished into shadow. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Sabrina sidled over to him.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s pretty bizarre,” he answered. “If I hadn’t experienced it for myself, I’d never believe it was possible.”

He stood, dusting off the seat of his pants.

“Care to join me for a little walk?”

“Where to?”

“I want to find where I fell in.”

Sabrina shrugged.

“Sure.”

Vic looked to the sky and around the wooded area, trying to get his bearings.  With confidence and determination, he strode east. They struggled through dense underbrush for about fifteen minutes until they came to a path. Shelby bounded ahead for a few feet, then hopped back to Sabrina’s side. Finally, Vic stopped and pointed.  Sabrina followed his gaze to a huge crack in the earth, roughly three feet wide. It zigzagged across the path, onto the grass and around bushes for a hundred yards. Still holding her stone, she recognized the ruby-red glow from deep within the earth.

Vic set his gem on the ground. The crevice seemed to disappear. He slowly tried to touch the opening. His hand vanished. Picking up the stone once more he peered down into the crevice. The power of the gem only penetrated the darkness for about ten feet down. It was impossible to tell what lay at the bottom.

Sabrina watched the man in silence. She felt equally awed by the whole experience and wondered why this sort of thing had not happened before. Maybe it had, but no one had ever returned to tell about it. That thought made her shudder. Vic noticed, but misinterpreted her shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“No, just wondering about the fate of those people down there.”

“I know what you mean. I was thinking about them, myself. I don’t want to go back down there again without the proper equipment, though. I also think we should be rested when we attempt to rescue them.”

“Shouldn’t we tell someone? What about the police? Maybe they could help.”

“If anyone told me what had just happened to us, I would have thought they were crazy. I doubt anyone would believe us.”

“Do you really think we have a chance of rescuing those people? We don’t know where they’re being held and we really don’t know how many of those big hairy creatures there are, down there. There’s probably an army, and the ones I saw had some type of armour on their chest. They’re almost twice as big as either of us. I don’t like the odds.”

“Would you be able to live with yourself, knowing you could have done something to help those poor people and didn’t? Who knows what their fate is? Whatever it is, though, I doubt it will be pleasant.”

Sabrina hung her head. He was right of course, but she was no hero. She was seventeen, working part-time as an aerobics instructor three evenings a week so she could earn a little gas money for when she took her mom’s car out for a cruise with her friends.  She knew in her heart though, that she could never forgive herself if she did nothing, knowing she had condemned the prisoners below to a life of slavery, or worse. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“What should we do?” she asked finally.

“We’ll meet back here tomorrow night, right after dark. I’ll bring my tools. You bring a first aide kit or something. Who knows what sort of shape those people will be in when we find them.” He paused. “Are you going to be alright with this? I want to know I can depend on you, if things get a little hairy. No pun intended.”

“I’ll be fine.”  She gave him a small grin.  “Do you play the hero often?”

“Actually, I guess I do. I’m training to be a fire fighter. I’ve already rescued a few people from burning buildings and such – but that just goes with the job.”

Sabrina stood and stretched her weary muscles.

“What’ll I tell my parents? They’d never believe the truth. Even if they did, they’d never let me go out with a perfect stranger.”

“Why not just tell them you’re going out with friends?”

“I guess that would work. See you tomorrow, then.”

“Right. By the way, I think you should leave your dog at home.”

She gave him a scowl.

“I’m bright enough to know not to bring her, you know.”

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to imply . . .”

“Forget it. See you tomorrow.”

She turned her back to him and headed down the sandy path towards home. She slipped in the back door avoiding her parents’ eagle eyes. She wasn’t sure what she could tell them about her filthy appearance, so she quickly showered and ditched her dirty clothes in her hamper.