4. Otherside

Caela woke up with a jolt. Her vision was a woolly cloud of white fog, translucent enough to see her hand in front of her face, but beyond that so opaque that she couldn't see the edges of the room. She looked around groggily, clutching her throbbing head.

The dust... the smoke... ouch, my head. If Lux led me into a drug den, I swear…

Her half-formed revenge plot was scattered into grateful pieces when she saw her companion rise up beside her, just as bleary as she was. Caela found herself struck with the strange thought that he’d appeared straight out of the mist. Had he been next to her when she woke up? She wasn’t sure.

Caela noted with some relief that he was still holding the jewellery box. Evidently the dwarf hadn’t been trying to rob them. Either that, or Lux was proving to be the world’s most defensive sleeper.

“Where are we?” His voice was flattened and distant in the fog. Caela assessed her surroundings, carefully rising to her feet and feeling her way to a wall. She could barely make out the silhouettes of the walls, floor and couch that they had just fallen onto. Everything was in the same place, but somehow looked less defined, like a half-finished sketch.

“I think... we're still in the den,” Caela said slowly. “Everything looks the same.”

“Not everything,” Lux responded, his country-boy drawl pulled taut. He pointed at a bead curtain set into the left wall. “That door wasn't there before.”

From beyond this new portal, the pair could hear the faint, tinny sound of a distant string quartet. Before she could devise a new strategy, Lux had already disappeared through the click-clacking bead curtain. Caela hurried over, careful of her footing in the mist, and followed his lead.

She emerged in a tall room - a shop floor - that seemed carved from a single piece of flawless marble. The waist-high cabinets in the middle of the room and narrow shelves seemed to join the room's borders without a hint of a seam or join. It took a moment for her to realise what seemed off about the space as she stepped inside - with an uncomfortable jolt, she noticed she no longer had a shadow. In fact, everything was lit with an uncanny omnidirectional white light.

Unburdened by her worries, Lux was examining the wares with all the wonder of a child in a sweet shop. He wasn’t the only browser; a silver-haired man in a knitted vest was perusing the shelves, tweaking his glasses and stroking his goatee in turns. His apparent interest was warranted - a random jumble of antique objects adorned every surface. Amongst mismatched rings and necklaces were the occasional pair of boots, a tiara too small for a human head, and stranger things, like a silver grapefruit-sized orb set with three rings of diamonds.

Almost instinctively, she reached out to touch the orb. At once, she recoiled at a crack on the knuckles. She whipped round to see the old man, who had appeared at her elbow without her even noticing. Under her accusing stare, he lowered the offending weapon - a silver-tipped cane. With a show of surprise, he turned as if he hadn’t seen her, let alone attacked her, and chuckled underneath his groomed beard.

“Aha! Sorry, my dear, must have bumped you with my cane.”

Twirling his moustache, he gently tapped the orb with the end of his cane. As soon as it made contact with the slate-grey orb, the cane began to change. The silver cap tarnished rapidly, black creeping over the shining metal as the stick’s wood shrivelled and cracked. The man observed with great interest as the change crept a few inches up the cane, before calmly retracting it.

“Fascinating,” he muttered to himself. “It stole the wood’s vitality? No, the silver was affected too. Time, then?”

The elderly man pottered off, still musing to himself. Caela, latching onto the only vaguely normal thing in the monolithic shop - Lux didn’t count - set off in pursuit. Hovering over his shoulder, she cleared her throat. “Sorry, where are we right now?”

The old man examined her over his half-moon glasses. “You don’t remember? Are you having trouble remembering anything else?”

Caela shook her head, frowning at the strange counter-questioning. “No, I’m fine. We were told to go to the ‘Otherside’, but… they didn’t say what it was, exactly. We’re supposed to make a trade.”

The old man blinked behind his glasses. “I see - you’re a vendor. How curious.”

He swept a liver-spotted hand around the marble shelves, towards an unmanned counter that was home to nothing except a brass bell.

“This is the Otherside,” he proclaimed, pronouncing the name as a single word. “A vendor of wares from many worlds, which itself sits in a crack between realities.” He seemed to be enjoying himself, slipping into a lecturer's rolling cadence. “More unusual still, the proprietor doesn't necessarily use currency as we know it. Value is subjective, after all, and rumour says that the proprietor has been known to accept treasured souvenirs, memories, even parts of the buyer's body.”

He, unlike Caela, seemed unbothered by the implications of such an idea. “These trades can be tricksy, though, and the artefacts on sale have unpredictable effects. So unless you know what you're looking for, it's advisable to not touch-“

Ding!

Caela's new guide stopped mid-sentence as the sound of a bell cut through the ambient string music. He caught her eye for a moment then, with an understated “oh dear,” hot-footed it out of their aisle, cane clacking on the smooth floor.

Caela hurried after him. She groaned internally at the sight of Lux standing at the counter, his hand guiltily frozen just above the handle of the bell. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised. She didn’t have the chance to reprimand him, however.

Just as the ringing faded away, strange echoes ricocheting off the smooth marble, a pillar of flame ignited behind the counter. Lux leapt away from the self-contained inferno as it burned without heat for a few seconds, before snuffing out as quickly as it had started. Where it had been, a figure stood in its place.

Caela blinked, trying to take in this strange apparition. They wore a silky, iridescent tunic, the colours shifting as the folds moved. Their head was eye level with Lux, though their mantis-like slouch implied their full height might be much greater. Most startling of all was their mask - or masks. The new arrival's face was completely concealed behind multiple layers of theatre masks, one strapped on top of the other until the top layer extended several inches from their body, and their head was mummified in dozens of straps. Combined with their looming posture, it gave the rather uncomfortable impression that they were reaching down towards Lux from far above.

A reedy, inhuman voice drifted out of the masks.

“Welcome to the Otherside, dear travellers!” it said with glee.

“Who are you?” Lux stammered, although ‘what’ might have been more appropriate.

The skinny creature giggled, twirling away and removing its first mask. It bent like a reed, shoving its thin arms into a box behind the counter. Caela could see even more masks being extracted, examined and discarded with the frantic energy of a rat digging through rubbish.

“An excellent question, hee hee, a common question,” it sang as it worked. Finally it popped up like a children's entertainer, spooking Lux considerably. The mask it wore looked like a candle, a papier-mache flame burning on the wick. The wood was carved as if the wax was melting, running down and distorting the mask's features.

“I am a collector,” the Collector sang. “Give and take interesting little things. Funny little things. You would like?”

The old man hurried over, just as Lux hissed, “I don't need no creepy deal, trickster.” Stepping in front of the defensive paladin, the man spoke hurriedly, hands behind his back gripping white-knuckled on his cane.

“Indeed, Collector, we are just browsing for now, aha.”

The Collector giggled in reply, ducking under their counter and reappearing, this time wearing a grey theatre mask with a sloppily-repaired tear down the middle. The opaque eyes of the mask seemed to stare beyond the duo, picking out the ranger lurking in the aisle.

“You, you, one half of two! What you like? Deal?”

Caela shook her head, cowering even further behind the white stone shelf.

“No, no deal!” she shot back. “We're trading on behalf of someone else, my uncle.”

At this reminder, Lux raised the jewellery box and placed it, open, on the counter. “They said you'd know what we want,” he said nervously.

The Collector snatched up the two gemstone bars with lightning-quick hands, examining them like a magpie. Abruptly they flicked their hands into the folds of their rainbow clothing, vanishing Vyne's payment and re-emerging with a tiny bauble containing a sparking fluid. The Collector dropped it onto the velvet of the jewellery case, causing the fragments of brilliance inside the ball to dance.

“This one pawned his memories, hee hee, now he wants them back. Why? I wonder, I speculate.”

Lux practically snatched the box back with a cursory “thank you”, trying not to make eye contact with the creature. Apparently satisfied with its trade, it craned its neck towards the old man, slipping off its cracked, grey mask to reveal another beneath. This one was a full-face impression of a young man, ruddy-cheeked with a chiselled jaw and blonde curls. Somehow, the more humanoid face did not reduce the creepiness of the masked being.

“For you, wise man, cunning man?”

The gentleman seemed to momentarily lose his ‘away with the fairies’ mood.

“Here,” he said, recovering a polite smile. “An apple transmuted into gold. My first successful experiment, and proof to myself of my potential. I would trade this for the essence of vitality.”

The Collector twisted their head back and forth like a curious bird, before taking the golden fruit from the man’s outstretched hand. The trinket disappeared in much the same way that the gemstones had, being replaced this time by a rectangle of blood-red bark. Cautiously approaching the old man as he received the item, Caela could smell its strange, pungent odour.

“A fragment from a dying tree, just one, soon to be none,” the Collector hummed. “Just one you get, so don't waste. Don't fritter.”

The silver-haired gentleman didn't seem hugely satisfied, muttering:

“Not much room for error, but it'll have to do.” He pulled a glass vial from his pocket, dropped the bark into it, and corked it securely. Adjusting the collar of his knitted vest, he looped Caela and Lux’s arms through his own.

“Good day, sir, and thank you for your custom,” he announced to the leering Collector, before steering his dazed companions out through the bead curtain. Caela tried to say something, but no sooner did she pass the threshold than her vision once again went black.

She awoke in a familiar sea of violet cushions, gratified to see that the other two had made their way back too.

Lux wobbled to his feet, pointing unsteadily at the man. “You, old timer. How did you know so much about that place?”

The grey man spread his palms. “I am but a humble practitioner of the arcane arts, who sometimes pays dearly for special ingredients. Johannes Tyrol, at your service.”

Lux looked amazed. “A wizard! Are you powerful?”

Johannes smiled, an avuncular sparkle in his eye. “I have my moments. Let’s just say that working outside of the oversight of the Mage Schools has its advantages.”

He rattled the bark in its vial. “This, for instance, is not something available to your average conjurer.”

“The essence of vitality,” quoted Caela, recalling Johannes’ request.

“Well remembered! Yes, it’s not easy to put a thumb onto Death’s scales, but this might be enough to power one such spell.”

He casually stowed the priceless ingredient and looked at Lux’s jewellery box.

“That, however, is something quite special. You say you purchased it on behalf of your uncle?”

Caela nodded.

“I would be most gratified to meet the man, and witness the receipt of this gift. I apologise for the imposition, but it has rather ignited my curiosity.”

Lux and Caela looked at each other, unsure. Johannes picked up on their hesitation and continued smoothly.

“I would, of course, be happy to fund this get-together, a celebration of a successful shopping trip.”

The trio left the gloomy recesses of the Gateway to the Otherside, stepping out into a starlit street party. The tatty-looking neighbourhood had been transformed under cover of darkness, now filled with lanterns, musical performers and revellers. The action was concentrated around Valerios, who was retelling the story of the griffon’s slaying to a raucous audience of partygoers and escorts. Each outrageous detail was accompanied by cheers and gasps, not least from Rose, who was having a whale of a time. The pair had to be dragged from the clutches of their audience, and Caela noted with relief that their earlier barbs had transmuted into a good-natured banter that followed them home to the Feisty Fish.

Their return journey was scored by the near-constant interrogation of Caela and Lux by Johannes. Using a chicken-scratch list as a reference, he asked them if they remembered about a hundred tiny details - about their day, and their lives. He waved away any description of these memories, seemingly satisfied that they existed. Finally, they came up against a mental wall.

“My favourite sweet treat?” Caela frowned. “I guess it would be…”

She trailed off in confusion. “I don’t know.”

Johannes turned the question on Lux, who shrugged but looked disconcerted.

The silver-haired wizard snapped his fingers triumphantly.

“There it is! I, too, have forgotten. That must have been the entry fee. You remember what your uncle purchased?”

Caela nodded.

“A memory.”

“Indeed, and a treasured one at that. The Otherside trades in intangibles like they were market vegetables. Even to enter the shop costs the price of a small, easily-forgotten memory.”

Lux looked sick at the idea. “Ain’t right to take payment without us knowing the price. Ain’t right to set a value on a memory, neither.”

Johannes shrugged nonchalantly. “These are the risks we take in pursuit of power. But I suppose it is subjective. You are young, recently shaped by your life experiences. Me? I am old, I have memories to spare. They’re practically spilling out of my ears!”

He chortled merrily, leaving his audience of two in stunned silence.

—

“This guy is something else,” Rose laughed, pushing open the tavern doors. He called out to their piscine host.

“Proprietress, another successful job. This calls for a celebration!”

“I'm glad you boys made up,” Ren purred, wielding the righteous menace of a scorned hostess. She pointed a painted fingernail at the wreckage of the corner table.

“I wonder, Velen Rose, if you were planning to leave that there during your revelry? Or should I find some more of my things for you to break?”

Rose flew to her side, kneeling to clutch her hand in two of his own.

“My dear Ren,” he cried, “Lady of the Lake, Doyenne of the Deep, you must excuse this foolish Rose. I shouldn't dream of sullying the palace in which you so generously permit me to stay.”

“For free,” he added, pantomiming a wink at the party.

Ren arched a thin eyebrow, failing to suppress a smile. She batted him on the forehead with  a broom before handing it to him and directing him towards the mess.

“You too,” she called over to Valerios. The moustachioed soldier snapped to attention, practically saluting the innkeeper before setting to work with a dustpan and brush.

Ren swam over to Caela to watch the cleaning efforts. Lux, unable to hold back from helping, joined in, and the trio began quickly clearing the area of debris and spilled drinks.

“Not the sharpest, but at least they can follow instructions,” a familiar voice rasped. Menelaus joined the spectators, an amused set to his whiskers. “Isn't that what you always used to say about me, Ren?”

“No,” the mermaid replied, “I used to say you were too clever to follow instructions. Big difference. Big pain in my tail, too.”

The old friends lapsed into silence, both looking at Caela, who squirmed under their gaze.

“You're lucky, Caela,” Menelaus said finally. “Your party's shaping up well. They've got heart. They’ll see you well.”

“My party?”

“You've just gone on your first adventure, what else would you call it?”

Caela, fumbling for a response, remembered the hard-won reward of their shopping trip. She retrieved the jewellery box to present the old cat with the sparkling bauble. Outside of the omnidirectional light of the Otherside, the orb illuminated the dark tavern with ripples of light.

There was a hush. Everyone stopped to watch Menelaus as he picked the bubble up and, after a moment’s reflection, popped it into his mouth. He swallowed, and exhaled deeply, sending wisps of golden light from his nose.

“Ahh, that's right,” he sighed. “I remember now.”

“They said it was a memory. What kind?”

“A sad one, that I was happy to give up at the time. Nowadays, well, my time is running out. I try to hold on to as many memories as I can. Even the sad ones.”

Ren squeezed his hand comfortingly, and Caela looked up at him with shining eyes. The old cat smiled at them both.

“Come on - enough talk about the past and future. Tonight we live in the present!”

The night eventually saw the tavern full of partygoers, music, and life. Jubilant after the success of their job - surviving a brush with danger and the unknown - the new friends had a chance to celebrate.

Valerios found a new audience for the Tale of the Griffon, with Rose acting out the key scenes. As his accent grew less and less comprehensible, Caela left a cheerfully drunk Lux with his head on the bar, trusting Ren’s safe hands. Wondering if she’d have a chance to speak to her uncle in private, she looked for his tabby fur, and spotted him in an alcove, engaging the wizard Johannes in impenetrable old-man conversation. Not wanting to intrude, Caela decided to leave further questions until morning, and headed for her room for a well-deserved rest.

Menelaus had compensated them for a day’s work and, wanting to stretch their funds, Caela and her travelling companions had decided to take shared rooms. A few stray lightning-blue curls peeking out of the top bunk signalled that Caela’s roommate was already asleep. The ranger observed with relief that her fellow guest was extremely neat, her folded clothes topped by a scattering of fragrant flower petals. The comforting aroma quickly lulled her Caela into a restful, dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, Ren, spotting a dangerously glazed look in Lux’s expression, had pried away his last drink and sent him to his room with a pitcher of cold water.

In the dark and silence, he sought out the wash-basin, filled it with water, and dunked his head in. The cold water was a jolt, but a refreshing one, sobering him up a little. Feeling his heart slow, his thoughts clear, Lux dedicated himself to the familiar ritual.

Out of the darkness, Lux heard a familiar firm voice, and saw his guiding light glinting in the far distance.

“Stay the course, child. Wisdom is your sword, patience your shield. With these tools, you may be redeemed.”

I know, thought Lux. But with all the evil in the world, are they enough to protect the ones I love?

He did not find an answer before he, too, succumbed to sleep.

 5. A New Challenger Approaches >>