The Kalugu by Edward C Patterson

Author:Edward C Patterson [Patterson, Edward C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-29T22:00:00+00:00

Episode Ten

Where Lord Belmundus completes his wall passage and finds an unexpected ally on the other side

1

Barriers come in many forms — some hard and implacable — others ephemeral and virtual. What we lose in the passage, who can tell? If it is material, we can inventory the shortages and replace, perhaps. If it is indelible, we might need to guess at vacuity and build other notions, perhaps unequal to our balance. In any case, passing boundaries will change the world, especially if a treaty is discarded.

2

The wall differed from its surroundings, although in the dark could have been missed. However, by waddly wazzoo light, the difference could be discerned by anyone directed to it.

“We call it the Yudolayda Asdodi — the Secret Door.”

“The Secret Door — that’s what I’ll call it,” Harris said. “Since it’s a secret, it’d be foolish to learn another mouthful of Cetrone.”

“As you will, Lord Belmundus.” Cosawta touched the door, his hand seeping through. “On the opposite side it is marked with a Z — in crimson, like the blood of our fallen.”

“Ah, like the mark of Zorro.”

“Whatever the fuck you need to recall it, you have my permission. Just remember, once outside you must move fast. The door opens near the Porias, and the regulati frequent the passageways.”

Harris nodded, sucked in his breath and prepared for the experience. He wasn’t keen on being transported through solid matter. He didn’t rush it, because his body wasn’t designed to do it. This wasn’t a Hollywood device — a transporter backed up with Spockian logic, the infallible kind found in the Science Fiction world.

Yustichisqua reached out and grasped Harris’ hand.

“Are you prepared, oginali?”

“No, but do it before I change my mind.”

Harris felt a tug, and then a frosty tearing at his flesh, like sandblasting through ice. No pain, but discomfiture — like pulling a tooth with Novocain. After a moment of suspension, the world stopped — his mind entertaining weird thoughts of being encased in a stone shroud and interred in a crypt. Not pleasant. He wouldn’t recommend this to the general public. Although less painful than waiting in a security line at an airport, it was more stressful. Then, he emerged into the light — his rocky tomb shucked, his shoulders jiggling like baby bird wings.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s one helluva downer, old man.”

“You have survived and come through it,” Yustichisqua said. “And the rain has stopped.”

Harris turned, checking his legs and arms, and then regarded the sky, the clouds parting on a clear morning.

“I hope all my internal organs made it through.”

“If not, you will know soon enough.”

“You’re not a joker, Little Bird, so this ain’t a good time to become one.”

“Sorry, oginali.”

Harris looked at Yustichisqua’s belt. The dagger — the one he named Gasohisgi — was missing.

“It’s gone,” Harris gasped. “Your dagger.”

He looked for his sword — Tony, but it made it through.

“No, oginali, I moved Gasohisgi to my back-belt loop.” He slipped it out, displaying the brashun blade. “I feared such blades might be the exception to transference.

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