The Stair Of Time (Book 2) (4 page)

“So, you’re saying that—”

“Yes!” exclaimed Ashel.  “Of course!  I should think that would be obvious even to you.  I can jump from tower to tower if and when I please, even skipping over certain links when the chain curves, when it slithers like a snake through tall grass—a kind of cosmic leapfrog if you will.  That is how I found Abolecious.  You would be surprised how close to our reality his world spins.  There are others that are far stranger, home to creatures that make him seem altogether humdrum.  In some of these realities, we are having the same, or at least very similar, conversation.  Although in most you would not recognize yourself, nor want to.

Isn’t it wondrous, Andaris!  It is a pity
that you cannot experience it with me, without your mind coming unraveled, that is.  For five seconds or so, roughly the span of time you would be able to hold onto your sense of self, you would be truly astounded.  It’s almost worth the trade, don’t you think?  For although you would surely die, in those five seconds, you would live more than most do in a lifetime.”

Fearing for his friend’s sanity
even more than usual, Andaris chose his words carefully, sensing that something as benign as a misplaced syllable might be enough to tip the balance in the wrong direction.  “The thing is, Ashel.  And please try not to take offense.  I’m speaking as a friend here.  The thing is, this all seems a bit…over done.  All smoke and mirrors, as Gaven might say.  Like the orbs and the tree.  I mean, does any part of you honestly believe what you’re saying?”

A full minute passed
in absolute silence, the sort usually reserved for crypts and particularly pretentious libraries. 
Like this one,
he thought.

Getting the distinct impression that
he wasn’t going to get an answer, no matter how long he waited, Andaris sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and said, “Okay, now let me see if I’ve got this straight.  You’re suggesting that this tower is linked to other towers by some kind of…space-time progression, all variations of the same thing, the same reality, like layers of the same onion, or mirrors bending into infinity?  Is that pretty much the gist?” 

“Very good, Andaris.  I need to remember to start giving you more credit.  You’re wrong, of course
.  But even so, that was quite imaginative and not too wide the mark.  The truth is, this place can be whatever you want it to be.”

Andaris opened his mouth to respond to what he had
expected Ashel to say, and then closed it again, fixing him with a blank stare instead.

“Don’t
believe me?  Well, I suppose I can’t blame you.  If you need convincing, simply go to one of the windows, close your eyes, and think about what you want to see.  When you open them, you
will
see it.”

“
But what about the five-second thing?”

“Honestly Andaris, sometimes I wonder how you have enough brain power to even keep your autonomic functions operating.  Obviously, what you glimpse through the window does not apply,
or else I would not have suggested it.”

Andaris hesitated,
attempting in vain to plumb the depths of this newfound darkness he sensed taking root in his friend.  Was it real or imagined?  When had he first felt it?  He couldn’t recall.  Certainly before the incident at Mandie’s bedside.

Rather than
driving himself to distraction with such thoughts as he normally would, he cleared his mind and stepped boldly to one of the windows.
It won’t work anyway,
he told himself, trying to ignore the fact that he was trembling, trying to deny the fact that a sizeable part of him
wanted
it to work.

The
windows were both deep-set and narrow, elegantly tapering from arched tops to the floor, edges exhibiting the sort of hazy precision that only magic can achieve.  The one he stood before was seamless, smooth, and throbbing with energy, the surface of its opening flat and black, the enigmatic face of a calm sea before a storm.

As though hypnotized, Andaris closed his eyes and let his hands fall to his sides, imagining the rolling
, forested hills of his father’s land.  When he opened them, he did so with a gasp, taken aback by what he saw.  For truly, what he had imagined now stretched before him, only with a thousand times more clarity and substance than memory alone could provide.  It was almost too much to take in at once, so real that it hurt his mind, every detail standing out with such startling brilliance, bursting with color and vibrancy far beyond what he had been prepared to behold.

Cool blue sky shone above lush, densely forested hills.  He could hear the cicadae buzzing in the distance, singing their endless summer song, their undulating rhythm not meant to be understood by the likes of him, or even Ashel.

“Especially not Ashel,” he whispered, his bewildered expression softening into a look of wonder, his mouth curving into a child’s smile.  It seemed so tangible, more substantive than any mere illusion.  He could even feel the mid-July heat on his skin, its fragrant breeze heavy with the sharply sweet scent of honeysuckle and wild onion.

Could it be?
he wondered,
heart fluttering in his chest.
  Could it actually be real?

“As real as anything else,”
said Ashel, his condescending tone replaced by hushed reverence.  “These windows have the power to show different places and times.  But remember, what you behold now is only a reflection of a reflection.  You are no closer to your home than before.”

“Oh….  I see.”

Hearing the disappointment in Andaris’ voice, Ashel cleared his throat in the way people do before beginning an especially longwinded lecture and said, “This is not a bad thing, Andaris.  Believe me, if you had seen what I have seen, you’d agree.”

“Such as?”

“
Such as
what occurred just last week as I was standing where you are now.  You can be sure, I was given quite a start when I saw myself peering into the same window I was peering out of.”

“
What?”

“You heard me.
  I locked eyes with my doppelganger, mouths agape in a caricature of bewilderment, too shocked to speak.  Fortunately, before I could recover enough to ask or tell myself anything, the window went dark.  I shudder to think what might have happened if one or both of us had been able to step through.”

“I
guess I just assumed that’s how Abolecious got here.”

“An understandable assumption
, given your complete ignorance on the matter.  But a false one, nonetheless.  Let’s just say, I brought him here by…other means.  I did first see him through one of the windows.  At least you got that part right.  And he did ultimately step through.  To actually bring him to me, however,
I had to perform a series of complex calculations, most spawning from extremely multi-variable calculus, in which the variables each represent dimensions of either space or time
. 
Determining the precise dimensional and sub-dimensional coordinates is a tricky business at best, Andaris.  At that point, and only at that point, was I able to open a temporary gateway between our worlds and compel him to come through.”

“But if you—”

“T
he answer is no, Andaris!  I cannot do the same for you in reverse.  In fact, I’ve already tried.  Every time I come close to finding your world, something interferes.  Why and how, I do not know.  All I can say is that I will not attempt it again.  Last time, this
something
was aware of what I was trying to do and why I was trying to do it.  I’m sure of it.  I felt its gaze fall upon me like an immense weight. It was so forceful.  It took all my will to break free.  It was unlike anything I’ve encountered before—dark, ancient and twisted.  I cannot chance another meeting.  I will not.”

Andar
is nodded thoughtfully, feeling somehow disconnected from it all, wholly unfazed by the fear he heard in Ashel’s voice. 
Why should that be,
he wondered? 
Something that frightens Ashel should terrify me.
And then he understood.  It was because he wasn’t in the least bit surprised.  It was as if Ashel had explained all this to him before, and yet he
knew
he hadn’t.  He felt woozy. 
This is the way it always happens,
he thought.

“Andaris?”

He
was so close to touching something that was always there but just out of reach.

“
Andaris!”

That cut through the fog.  “What?” he snapped, irritated at having been interrupted at such a
crucial moment.

“Are you
feeling all right?  You look a bit pasty.”

“I’m fine,” he replied.

“Hmm.  Indeed.”

In truth
, he strongly suspected that he was anything but fine.  He felt so strange, like this was all just part of some overly immersive fever dream.  A question popped into his mind, surprising him with its insistence.

“
So it’s not only places you’ve been to that you can see?” he blurted.

“
Well…no,” Ashel answered, obviously puzzled by his behavior.  “It certainly helps, but no, not if your imagination is keen.  The window will find the place that most closely matches what you are picturing.  There are so many to choose from that, odds are, it will find at least a close facsimile.”

“Do you mind if I try again?”

Another long pause, this one more calculating than calculated. 
“Be my guest, Andaris.  This is one of the reasons I summoned you.  To see how adept you are.  But be advised, it can become…addictive.”

Something in his
tone suggested he spoke from experience.

Andaris closed his eyes, slowly forming an image in his mind.  He saw a great golden desert stretching beneath a cobalt sky, three moons huddled conspiratorially against the horizon.  A crystalline city appeared in the foreground.  It was surrounded by kaleidoscopic patterns of color and light, fourteen rings rotating to the left and right, a great glittering spectacle of impossible proportions.

His
imagination strained for more detail.  He could now see the city had hundreds, if not thousands, of towers.  Most were crystalline in structure, while others were wrought of jade, ivory and even onyx.  Some of the rings, continuing to rotate in their preordained directions, began turning perpendicular to the mind’s eye, so that now a kaleidoscope sphere surrounded the city. 

And so it was, to the swelling chorus of crystalline angels, that the entire thing lifted into the sky, blazing like a second sun,
rainbows of light shining and refracting, each cast a different direction, each a mirror unto itself. 

Andaris set the image firmly in his mind, making sure everything was in place, a painter finishing the final strokes before unve
iling his or her masterpiece.  Then he slowly, almost reluctantly, opened his eyes.

And very nearly fell to his knees, for what he saw and heard in the window made his vision seem trite by comparison.  The angels sang with soul-piercing intensity, so beautiful and terrible that he covered his ears.  The city shone with violent light, so beautiful and terrible that he squeezed shut his eyes.  This time it was too real to bear.  His imagination was set ablaze, consuming all that it touched.  Closed eyes and ears made no difference.  There was no escape.  It was all-encompassing.  Soon he would be consumed.  Another second and he—

A
nd just like that, it was gone, sound and light sent back from whence they came.

In the beginning, there was only darkness.  Into this void there came a voice, sounding far away and inconsequential it said, “You may lower your hands, Andaris.”

He strained to obey, but could not.

“I said, lower your hands.”

At last,
he managed to do as the voice instructed.  And, upon opening his eyes, found that it was good.  The window was once again ‘blessedly dark.’  He made sure not to visualize anything else, lest its surface spark anew.

“That was
quite remarkable, Andaris.  I had no idea that such a place could exist.  Not in a hundred years would I have come up with anything like that.  The question is, did it exist before you thought of it?  I think so.  But I must admit, on this count I am not entirely certain.  And if it didn’t before, does it now?  Of course, it would be wise not to ponder the matter too long.  After all, these are the sorts of questions that drive philosophers to drink.”

Ashel sighed.  “A
h well, what’s one to do?  You know, I had a hunch you would prove useful in this regard.  Ofttimes, imagination is sacrificed on the altar of intellect.  Your mind is remarkably unencumbered by the ravages of intellect, Andaris.  Not overburdened like mine, sunken into long-established channels of logic and function.”

A wavery, partially transparent representation of
the wizard materialized two feet in front of him.  Unlike
desk
Ashel, this was a fully realized representation, including not just sound but movement.