The Fenimeldiyaan: Displaced Time - Chapter 1

Gerald landed on his back on the hard ground, the impact forcing air from his lungs.  Choking and cursing, he stared around, the brightness hurting his eyes.  At first glance, he thought the featureless landscape must be the Sartorian desert, but the air temperature felt close to freezing.  He dug his fingers into the white powdery substance, recognising it to be snow instead of sand.  Already he could feel the cold seeping into him, making each breath hurt as ice crystals began to form inside his nostrils.  Breathing with his mouth was not much of an improvement, for the chilly air rasped against his throat.  He had to find shelter.  Out here in the snowy wilderness, he would soon die of exposure.

He rolled over onto his side and from there, managed to get into a kneeling position.  Slowly he stood, trying to piece together his fragmented memories.  The last thing he recalled was when he had been standing on the deck of the boat at the docks.  He had a vague impression that Andreas had been talking to him but it might have been a dream.

A low rumbling sound distracted him.  The ground beneath his feet vibrated.  For a moment, he wondered if the snow could be sentient like the sand in the Horeb desert, but then he realised that it was a mechanical sound, heralding the approach of a motorised vehicle.

Shouting and waving his hands in the air, he ran towards the vehicle.  It turned out to be some sort of supply truck.  Two uniformed men sat in the cab, both wearing black uniforms and fur hats with ear-flaps.  The truck slowed and one of the men leaped out, speaking in an unfamiliar language. 

“I be lost” Gerald tried to explain.  “Could ye tell me where I be and perhaps give me a ride to the nearest city?”

The man shrugged and said something to his companion which sounded like “Vransk”.

The colleague nodded and gestured to the truck bed, where crates and sacks of supplies were strapped down beneath a grey tarpaulin. 

Taking their meaning, Gerald smiled and nodded before climbing onto the bed and finding a seat on one of the crates.

The uniformed men spent a few minutes conversing with each other, then the truck roared off, its destination unknown.

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Rachel tugged on the sleeve of the blond-haired healer.  “Excuse me, what city is this?”

“I’m sorry, Lady Andric, but I have no idea”.  Apollo shrugged helplessly and looked around at the unfamiliar streets.  “I can only surmise that we’re no longer on Meldin.  I will try to read the mind of a passer-by and see if I can find out”.

“I think we must be somewhere in the Fenian Galaxy” River projected, her head hurting from the effort.  She wished that she had her book to write in.  “The words on that signpost look a little like Malvanian language and the vehicles don’t need animals to pull them”.

“You could be right, Your Majesty” Apollo acknowledged.  “I only spent a little time on Malvania, and most of that was at the Donovan Institute, but the architecture does indeed resemble what I’ve come to recognise as Fenian.  Wait a moment”.

He picked out a group of young women, bundled against the cold in heavy coats, hats and scarves.  They chattered amongst themselves and had not noticed the strangers in their midst.  He focused on their surface thoughts, not wishing to pry into their innermost feelings.  It did not take him long to find the information he sought.

“The city is called Kashmir” he reported to the others.  “And we are on the world of Yttria.  I’ve heard the Cesarios mention it in passing, but I know nothing about it”.

“Let’s try to contact Andreas and Anwyn” River suggested.  “If we can show them where we are, they’ll find us and bring us back home”.

The three of them combined their powers and reached out, searching for the familiar mind signatures of Lord and Lady Cesario.  Several minutes later, they abandoned their attempt.  Their heads throbbed and they had grown weak with the effort of maintaining the projection.

“No good” Apollo conceded.  “There’s no trace of them.  It’s as if they never existed”.

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“What be wrong, me love?” Andreas asked, noticing the despondent look on his wife’s face.  “Trouble at the Vyrdsphere, eh?”

“Aye, ye could say that”.  She sighed and shook her head.  “There be no sign of Uncle Jude and no-one’s seen him in several days.  He never takes a vacation and he ain’t teaching at the Donovan Institute either”.

“Tis strange indeed” Andreas remarked.  “Jude be a creature of habit.  I’ve never known him take off at random like that.  Pity, for we could use his help in tracking down our missing people”.

“After what happened with Gremeldah Dowd, I really don’t feel like approaching the Chronomages and asking for help” Anwyn stated.  “They were distinctly frosty towards me when I broke the bad news to them.  Like they blamed us for her passing”.

“What about your granddaughter?” Morgan enquired.  “Surely she’d be willing to help out?”

“Aye, she would” Andreas confirmed.  “But she be away on a diplomatic mission at the moment, trying to negotiate with the Losinthans.  One of their young students wishes to become a Chronomage and she be intervening.  I know she could split herself, but her powers be very much reduced due to the restrictive wards she be under.  They only agreed to let her visit if she wore a restrictive net to prevent her from attacking them.  Losinthans be isolationist and suspicious by nature, y’see”.

Morgan shuddered, remembering Jaek, the rogue Losinthan Chronomage who had caused so much trouble on Thraesh. 

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Elsa Silvereye paced the bedroom the Cesarios had lent her while they were at the enclave, tugging at the end of her red braid. Her other hand was pressed against her stomach, which was growing uncomfortably the longer her pregnancy went on. Elaine, Elsa’s twin, sat on the bed, watching Elsa pace. “Els,” she said after a moment. “Why don’t you sit down? You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

Elsa shook her head. “I can’t. Elaine, I can’t. He promised he would find him, said he would bring him back. It’s been a day and he hasn’t heard a thing. What if Gerald’s out there somewhere, dying? I can’t really feel him. The empathy link isn’t working.”

Elaine jumped off the bed and embraced her twin. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Andreas will find Gerald.”

“Will he?” Elsa shook her head, burying her face in Elaine’s shoulder. Tears soaked her twin’s sleeve. “He’s the reason Gerald’s in this mess in the first place! If he hadn’t meddled here, then Set never would have discovered Chronomancy, and he never would have sent Gerald to the past …”

  

“You can’t blame Andreas for that,” Elaine said, pulling away slightly to look her sister directly in the eye. “Things happen. We can’t think about changing the past to change the present. We can’t control time and we can’t control what happens in life. Andreas is the same. He did everything he could for us, and without him and Gremeldah, Set would have won.”

Elsa continued crying into Elaine’s shoulder. She’d never pictured her pregnancy being so difficult. Her back ached, her stomach was almost constantly in turmoil, and her husband seemed intent on putting himself in danger. Elaine’s pregnancy had seemed much easier for her twin.

The door opened and Daren came in. Both girls looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head. “Nothing. I’m sorry. Andreas can’t find someone named Jude, and it’s worrying them. They also can’t go to the Chronomages, who blame us for Gremeldah’s demise, or Andreas’s granddaughter, who’s bargaining with Lost … Losin …”

“The Losinthans,” Elaine supplied, shuddering. “Jaek was a Losinthan Chronomage.”

Elsa sighed, slumping down against the bed. “We’ll never find Gerald. He’s lost for good.”

“If you think any of us would ever give up looking, you’re dead wrong,” Elaine said, laying a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. “We’ll keep looking for them for as long as it takes. I promise.”

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Apollo kept his grip on River’s hand as the small group made their way through the city. He didn’t know where they were going, or what they could do, but staying put didn’t seem like a good idea to him. Their new blonde companion, Lady Rachel Andric, trailed along silently. Although River had claimed she knew Rachel, the blonde girl didn’t seem to know her. Apollo believed she was a different version of Rachel than River knew, but the girl had insisted that she come with them.

The cold bit into Apollo’s clothes. He’d given his outer robes to River, who had started shivering in her brown cloak, leaving him with only his breeches and shirt. He wished Morgan was there, or even that he could have his staff, but all their belongings had been left back in Zor when Jezebel had sent them to Yttria.

Their aimless wanderings took them to an empty street. A light snow had powdered on River’s dark curls as she looked around with a frown. “I don’t think we should be here,” she projected at Apollo.

Apollo nodded, starting to back up. Something wasn’t right. The silence was punctuated with … footsteps. “Run!”

None of them made it very far. Apollo dragged River along behind him, but two men stepped out onto the street and jerked the little girl out of his grasp, wrapping her in some form of a net. Rachel screamed from behind him, the noise choked off. Apollo skidded on the light dusting of snow as he tried to turn, not knowing what he planned to do, but knowing he couldn’t leave River in the hands of their kidnappers. Rachel was being dragged into a Fenian vehicle — a truck, Apollo remembered Andreas calling it — wrapped in the same sort of netting that River was caught in.

The distraction cost the healer. Someone wrapped an arm around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides, and snared him in the net. No matter how much Apollo tried to squirm his way free, his captor kept a good grip on him and wrestled him into the truck with Rachel. River was tossed in a moment later, and it roared off.

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” Rachel demanded, struggling from slightly beneath Apollo. Her elbow dug into his side through the nets.

“I don’t … know,” Apollo admitted. “River, are you alright?”

Although the girl nodded, there was no telepathic response. Apollo could only suppose that the nets were to disable their abilities of sorcery. “Whatever they want, it seems we’re uninjured,” he said, trying to be positive.

“There is no positive side to this,” Rachel said flatly. “We’ve been stranded, abducted, wrapped in nets, and thrown into a car. How can you try to find a positive side to this?”

Apollo didn’t respond. When she put it like that, there was no positivity to be found in their situation. He fell silent as they were driven on.

After what felt like ages, the truck stopped and the doors were opened. Apollo and the two girls were dragged out and tossed over their captors’ shoulders. Then they were carried into a large building and dumped unceremoniously onto the floor and left with one guard. The door slammed shut.

“What now?” Rachel muttered, squirming as she tried to escape her netting. “Any chance you want to tell us why we’re here?” The guard she was addressing said nothing. Chances were, he didn’t speak their language and remained silent.

River rolled onto her back, tears spilling down her cheeks. Apollo wanted to get closer to her, but the net didn’t exactly help him move. “It’s alright, River,” he told her soothingly. “We’ll figure a way out of this.”

Judging from the fact that her tears didn’t stop falling, she didn’t believe him.

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Veerna ducked low over her stolen motorcycle. It was the lone survivor of her ship’s crash through a wormhole, and she intended to take it to the nearest city and … find … a way out. Force, steal, murder, whatever worked to get her out of this freezing place.

A heavy wool coat covered her normally-sleeveless outfit, and tall boots made their way over her knees. A scarf covered her mouth. She touched her rifle, fully prepared to deal with anyone that crossed her path.

However, her goggles were getting covered with frost, and she made a mistake in not cleaning them off. Something appeared in front of her, and Veerna swore in Voldinian as she jerked her bike to the side, trying to avoid the crash too late.

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The truck stopped. Gerald went to stand, but one of the men waved him back down before exiting the vehicle. The other man was watching Gerald. Seconds later, the first fellow came back, a figure bundled in his arms, evidently the reason for the delay. After yet another conversation between the two men, the new person was put into the back of the truck with Gerald before they set off again.

While they drove, Gerald examined the girl they’d brought. Her skin was whiter than the snow, and her hair matched its pallor. The only colour on her face came from the black blood slowly dripping its way down her face. Evidently, she’d hit her head. Whoever she was, he knew one thing: She wasn’t human.

If he’d seen her prior to the accident, he would have realised they’d taken her weapon from her. However, he remained clueless, and settled down to await their arrival at their destination. Hopefully he could make contact with Andreas once they arrived.

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Judaas Fendor materialised in the dark, dank basement, maintaining his invisibility spell in order to have the element of surprise.  He observed the array of scientific equipment laid out on the scarred wooden tables and read the titles of the obscure anatomy and alchemy manuals arranged on the metal shelving bolted to the walls.  Altogether, the place failed to impress him.

A lone figure toiled away, checking samples in a microscope, perusing data on a clunky old computer screen and making handwritten entries in a ledger.  The man’s condition had worsened since Judaas had last seen him, many years ago.

“You didn’t think you could hide from me, did you, Yozev?”  He spoke in a practised neutral tone, waiting for the cadaverous man to look up from his work.  Hollow eyes in sunken sockets stared at nothing, then a moment later, Judaas banished his invisibility spell, causing the skinny, malnourished man to drop his pen.

“What are you doing here?” the thin man demanded, glaring at Judaas.  “This is a private research facility and you have no business coming here, using your vile sorcery to get around my security measures.  I suggest you leave now, before I call the State Police!”

Judaas laughed.  “Oh, Yozev, surely you don’t think I’ll be intimidated by a few uniformed guards hooked up to the Cyad mind-control grid?  You should know me better than that.  I come to you in friendship, in kinship, in the spirit of what we once meant to each other”.

“You have never been anything but a menace to me” Yozev countered.  “You claim kinship but you have never supported me in my endeavours.  In fact you have constantly sought to undermine me and discredit me”.

“Your endeavours, as you call them, happen to be unethical at best and barbaric at worst” Judaas reminded him.  “Picking up homeless people from the streets and promising them rich rewards for taking part in your so-called clinical trials.  Preying on vulnerable youngsters, particularly students, knowing that they be desperate to make money to pay their rent and tuition fees”.

“I stopped doing that a long time ago” Yozev protested.  “Nowadays, I have an arrangement in place —”

“I know all about your arrangement with Gyul Khrychyt” Judaas interrupted.  “How he offloads his low-grade merchandise onto you, thus ridding himself of the slaves whom no-one will purchase.  Those poor Sartorians!  They deserve better than ending up on your operating tables!”

“So you’ve come to threaten me again?” Yozev surmised.  “You simply don’t understand.  I hope to find cures for diseases like Battleship and Skarada.  Of course, I started my research for a selfish reason — to cure my own afflictions — but over the years, I have come to see the bigger picture.  My research will benefit millions of sufferers”.

“Then there be no hope for you” Judaas pronounced.  “I came here to warn you, not threaten you.  I have seen the future and it doesn’t look bright for you.  No fame and glory, no miracle cures for supposedly incurable illnesses.  If you continue on this path, you will be sealing your own doom.  And for the record, twill be none of my doing.  You refuse to listen to reason, so I shall leave you to your fate.  I wish things could have turned out differently, but you’ve made your choice.  Farewell, Yozev!”

He translocated away, leaving Yozev Kandlin spluttering with rage.

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A knock on the door interrupted Governor Dieter Rinakov from his work.  “Come in!” he barked.

Two of his officers entered, still brushing snow from their uniforms.  “Comrade Governor, we found two unauthorised persons during our supply run” one of them stated.  “One of them is Virian and we believe the other to be Losinthan.  We have arranged for translators, since we thought you might wish to interrogate them”.

“Unauthorised persons?”  Dieter’s sandy eyebrows rose in astonishment.  “Out in the wilderness?  No-one chooses to wander around Varicharenzo of their own volition.  Have them brought to me immediately!”

The officers inclined their heads, snapped off salutes and left the office.  They returned a few minutes later, dragging a tall young man with dark hair and a pale young woman with white hair.

Dieter stared at the new arrivals from behind the safety of his large metal desk, trusting his officers to subdue the unruly prisoners if necessary.

Another knock at the door heralded the arrival of the interpreters — a young woman who specialised in Virian dialects and an older man who had been born on Losintho.

Gerald and Veerna stood in front of the Governor’s desk, having not understood any of the conversations going on around them.

The female interpreter approached Gerald and spoke in a language which he had heard Andreas using during one of their missions.  Although he had heard it before, he could only guess at what she was asking.

“Me name be Gerald Hunt and I came here by accident” he tried to explain, speaking slowly in the hope that she might understand him.  “I want to find me wife and get back home.  I don’t want to cause any trouble for ye”.

The interpreter woman frowned.  She stared at Gerald for a moment before reporting to the Governor.  “Comrade Governor, this man is not Virian.  I realise why your officers might have mistaken his language, for there are certain similarities.  If you would permit me to spend time analysing his language, I should be able to communicate effectively with him in a few days”.

“You have one day” the Governor responded.  “My officers will make sure he is secured for your own safety.  I expect good results, Communications Officer Drelnikova”.

Meanwhile, the only response which the Losinthan interpreter had managed to elicit from Veerna was a barrage of Voldinian swear-words.

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“Three foreign sorcerers, you say?” Gyul Khrychyt’s thin mouth quirked in amusement.

“Aye, Master, over in Warehouse 22B” the slave-catcher confirmed, bowing before his tall, white-haired employer.  “We have them secured by dampening nets and we’ve posted a guard as well”.

“I shall be there shortly” Gyul replied.  “Go to the space dock and meet the ship arriving from Sartoria”.

He waited until his employee scuttled away, then translocated himself directly to the aforementioned warehouse.

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The three companions stared up at the imposing man who materialised in front of them.  His white hair was shaved at the sides of his head, but left long at the top and bound in a neat tail at the back of his head.  His narrow face showed no emotions as he inspected the new arrivals.

“So I find myself in the presence of royalty” he remarked, addressing River.  “Queen of Cortann, eh?  I have to wonder how long you have held such a title, given your tender age”.

He then turned to the only male in the party.  “Apollo Lightbringer, a healer from Vordelle.  Until I looked in your minds, I had never heard of Cortann or Vordelle”.

Finally he looked at Rachel.  “Lady Rachel Andric, a person of some importance in some organisation known as The Story.  Associate of a man calling himself the God of Dreams”.

He paused and rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.  “All three of you should fetch excellent prices at auction”.

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When the translators will unable to elicit any sort of response from either Gerald or Veerna, they had the two prisoners dragged to the cell block. The translators continued trying to communicate with them, but the white-skinned woman kept spitting back some strange, lilting language to them. Although the acid in her voice was obviously cursing her interpreter, it was strangely captivating.

In his holding cell, Gerald examined the woman. Her similarity to Jaek, the Chronomage from Thraesh, was astonishing. Both had extremely pale features, although the woman before him had darker eyes. “Oi,” he said, ignoring the woman trying to communicate with him for the time being. “Who be ye?”

The young woman turned her intense gaze to him from across the way. “Well, well. You speak English,” she said, looking at him appraisingly. “And you are a bit of eye candy, aren’t ya?”

“I speak the common tongue of Meldin,” Gerald said. “And I don’t know what ye be talking about. I be Gerald Hunt.”

“Veerna,” she said. “Veerna Vold. Of the planet Vold. Are these idiots going to keep flapping their lips?”

Gerald’s eyebrows shot up. “D’ye know where we be?” he asked.

Veerna looked at the translators. “He’s Losinthan,” she said. “And the girl’s Virian. Fenian Galaxy. Judging from the fact that the Cyad Confederacy is still running strong, we’re at some point in the past. Stupid wormhole couldn’t even send me to the right time.”

“The … the past?” Gerald stared at her. “Can’t be. We can’t be in the past. How am I supposed to find me friends?”

“Wait until they’re born?” Veerna answered with a shrug. “Unless you’ve got a time-machine, Gerry, or even a way of breaking out of this place, then you’re stuck here with me.”

“Did ye just call me Gerry?” Gerald stared at her.

Veerna leaned against the wall of her cell, looking at her translator with a vindictive expression. “I wonder how long it’s going to take him to realise I know everything he’s saying,” she said, and went back to abusing him in Voldinian. It left Gerald alone to wonder how in the world the Voldinian knew more about the past of the Fenian Galaxy than he did.