Essence of Chaos Read online

  She jumped at the low voice behind her. For a moment she had forgotten her rescuer. She still understood what he said; and like before, when he spoke, faint images of being chased through the dark woods echoed in her mind. They were weaker than before, which she hoped was a good thing.

  Darkness had fallen, but he’d managed to build a small fire. He had a rough camp set up around it, and a dark horse tied to a nearby tree. From the wonderful aroma, he’d prepared some kind of food as well.

  “Better?” He squatted down next to her and gently prodded the area around her swollen ankle. “Luckily, I found some Earl’s Bane to numb it.”

  He flashed a quick smile, and then shrugged at her obvious confusion. “Maybe your folk call it something different.” He sighed. “I wish I could understand you. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starved.” She was surprised he couldn’t hear her stomach rumbling.

  “Sorry.” He shook his head. “All I get is a strange sounding mumble. You aren’t from here, are you?”

  Jenna gave him a tight smile and a shrug. She didn’t think she was from wherever ‘here’ was, but she wasn’t certain that he wasn’t the misplaced one. Fortunately, that nice mental Prozac was still keeping her fears at bay. Things were going to get ugly if that weird soothing force in her skull ever left.

  “Now I really wish I could understand you.” The sharp angles of his face became more pronounced as the smile faded and his eyes narrowed. “We’ve had some odd things happening around here the past few months. You wouldn’t be a part of all that, would you?”

  Jenna shrugged again. She doubted it, but being as she had no idea where she was or how she got here, she honestly couldn’t say.

  “Never mind.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you. Now, about that food?” At Jenna’s exaggerated nod, he laughed. “Right away, milady.” Dusting off his hands, he turned toward the fire. He returned a moment later with two full wooden bowls.

  “I can’t believe how rude I’ve been.” He shook his head after they’d both started eating. “Here I am dragging you out of ditches, fussing with your leg, and I haven’t even told you my name.” He gave a short bow. “I am Storm, woodsman by trade.”

  Jenna smiled and decided to give her name a try. She may not be too clear on where she’d been recently, but she knew who she was. “I’m Jenna.” As she said it, she pointed toward herself.

  Storm tried saying it a few times, but couldn’t get the sounds right. “It’s no use.” He shrugged and gave a crooked grin. They finished their stew in silence.

  He carried the bowls back to the fire. “We’ll head toward the home of a friend of mine tomorrow. At the very least, Ghortin will be able to do something a bit more permanent about your leg. He might even be able to make you understandable. So, for now,” he carried over a thick, woven blanket and tucked it around her, “good night.”

  Jenna nodded, and then snuggled deeper into the blanket. She still had no idea where she was, how she’d gotten here, or why she was able to see and understand a fairy tale creature, but she was full, warm, and sleepy. Her eyelids were drooping when she caught sight of a shadow behind the distant trees; tall, thin, and vaguely man-shaped, with a tall dog standing next to it. Both were semi-transparent, like they weren’t fully there. They vanished completely before she could point them out to Storm. Jenna stared at the spot for a few moments, willing them to re-appear. When they didn’t, she chalked it up to the horrific day she’d had and went to sleep.

  2

  Jenna woke up in a sweat the next morning as the fears from yesterday came pounding back. It took her a minute to figure out where she was, but then that nice soothing acceptance kicked in and she stopped worrying.

  Storm raised his head from packing away the night’s things and nodded to her. “Ah, will you now break your fast?” He brought over a small plate. “I’m afraid we have simple fare.”

  The fragrant red cheese, hard bread, and strange purple fruit he offered looked like a feast. She managed to give him a flash of a smile and refrained from bolting down the food.

  The bread and cheese were standard and gone before she could fully taste them. The fruit, however, was amazing. It tasted like a combination of watermelon and grapes, with sweet crunchy seeds and a smooth purple skin. The instant she decided that she’d never tasted anything like it, a distant part of her mind recognized it as a ragbare.

  Jenna knew that Storm had found it nearby; this was the season for them and they favored forest edges. She grabbed her head at the sudden stab of pain that came with the information. It vanished a moment later, as well as any further knowledge about the fruit.

  She wanted to ask her companion about it, then remembered the one-way communication block they had. Storm sounded like he believed this Ghortin person could help. If so, they had better get to him before her mind surrendered completely. Providing she wasn’t hooked up to an I.V. in some nice padded cell right now.

  She had to admit, if she had gone crazy, at least she picked a handsome hallucination to share it with. Storm might be some sort of alien, but he was a damn good-looking one. Rustic, with his medieval woodsman-elf style, but attractive nonetheless.

  “We’ll make directly for Ghortin’s.” With no effort, Storm lifted Jenna atop his horse.

  Panic filled her as she tried to get a steady grip on the horse. She never had been fond of the big things and the feeling was usually mutual.

  “Now don’t fret, those stories about Ghortin aren’t true.” He gave a smirk as he misunderstood the source of her panic. “Well, most of them anyway.”

  Although Storm’s mysterious friend hadn’t been the original cause of Jenna’s worry and discomfort, he had her attention now. Did she want someone who had stories told about him, true or not, helping her when she was so vulnerable? She shook her head at Storm.

  He patted her hand. “Ghortin isn’t near as bad as the legends say. You know bards are always ready to embellish a tale. Especially when there’s a mage involved.”

  He leaned down and gathered a longbow and quiver that had lain hidden behind his pack. For the first time, she noticed a dagger sheathed at his hip, and a pair of wicked-looking knives slipped into the tops of his boots.

  That answered a few of Jenna’s questions. Wherever she was, it wasn’t technologically advanced. Nor safe.

  They headed further into the forest, with Storm leading the horse and Jenna trying to stay atop it. She listened with growing discomfort as Storm pointed out local flora and fauna and some weird voice in her head made comments about it.

  For instance, she knew she had never in her life seen the rose-like flower with the stunning golden hue they had just passed. Then a voice in her mind called it a natari and said that the delicate thorns were fatal an instant before Storm said the same thing.

  This annoying double commentary continued every time they passed something new. Finally, she tuned him out and shut her eyes, forcing her mind to focus on nothing. It was working fine until Storm halted the horse.

  “It seems I’ve put you off to sleep.”

  She opened her eyes with a start. She didn’t want to upset him; right now he was the only link she had to whatever had happened to her. With an apologetic smile, she motioned for him to continue.

  Storm smiled back, and then froze, staring closely at her face.

  “What in the seven levels of the abyss?” he muttered under his breath. “Your eyes are gray.”

  Jenna nodded, trying to figure out what the problem was. Surely he’d noticed her eye color yesterday? Besides, how could some point-eared, elf thing act as if anything about her was abnormal?

  He shook his head. “I said, your eyes are gray.”

  She nodded, slower this time, and leaned back on the horse. She didn’t think he was dangerous, but he seemed upset.

  “Aren’t they supposed to be brown?” His own eyes narrowed.

  She shook her head.

  “T
hey were brown last night.” He sounded more as if he was trying to convince himself than anything else. Jenna shook her head again.

  “Yes, they were.” He leaned forward. “Dark brown. Now they’re light bluish gray.” He paused and tilted his head. “You knew they were gray?”

  She frowned at her new companion, wondering if maybe she wasn’t the only one with a tenuous grip on reality. One of them was mighty confused here. And while she would admit that there were more than a few odd things going on with her memories, she knew the color of her eyes.

  “So we agree, your eyes are now gray.” He spoke as one would speak to a slow child. Jenna narrowed her eyes at the comment, but nodded.

  “And yesterday they were brown.”

  She shook her head sharply.

  A worried look crossed his handsome face. He stared up at her for a few minutes, as if he could make her eyes change. He finally gave up and turned back to the trail. “What say we deal with this once we reach Ghortin?”

  He continued deeper into the forest, but he refrained from making comments along the way.

  After an hour or so they approached a clearing and a small, whitewashed cottage. Its thatched roof and crossed window shutters reminded her of a small Scandinavian inn. A circular double row of thin, white-barked trees gave the impression of guarding the cottage as the horse passed under their branches.

  Jenna’s stomach growled as the smell of roasted meat drifted toward them. The sound managed to shake Storm out of whatever thoughts he was lost in.

  “Fear not, along with being a high and fearsome mage, Ghortin is a fair cook.” Storm and the horse broke into a brisk canter, covering the remaining ground in a few minutes.

  Storm plucked Jenna off the horse like a child and, without knocking, whisked them through the heavy door of the cottage and into a small parlor. Obviously Storm and this person were good friends. The part of her mind that insisted that mages existed knew they wouldn’t appreciate intruders. She chose to continue ignoring the part that said mages, and beings like the pointed-eared man she traveled with, didn’t exist.

  Storm eased her down on to a crude, overstuffed orange couch then took one of the rough wooden chairs next to it. Jenna thought his grin looked a bit too much like a cat bringing a new play toy home to its owner.

  She shifted on the garish couch, wondering if it was too late to find someone else to help her, when a whirling circle of greens and browns opened up on the wall near the sofa. The swirls vanished, leaving in their wake a most un-mage-like person. Even though she had no memory of ever seeing a mage, she was quite certain that this stout man was not what she would have expected.

  He was a few inches shorter than Storm, but his wide shoulders and deep chest made him look larger. He looked to be in his late fifties, with thick, straight, gunmetal gray hair that brushed the top of his starched collar and framed a round face with the beginnings of a beard. His dark brown pants were of a looser style than Storm’s and they peeked out from a flowing floor-length vest worn over a simple beige shirt. If he was surprised at their arrival, his broad smile gave no sign.

  “Well now, my friend, what foundling have you brought to my home this time?” His deep, warm rumble made Jenna smile in response. She smiled even further when she realized he had normal round ears and human features.

  “Ah, lost little flower.” The man’s thick-callused hand swallowed hers as he bent over it gracefully. “You are most welcome to my humble home. I am Ghortin of the Mages, and you are?”

  “Thank you. I’m Jenna.” She smiled self-consciously and shook her head. “I forgot, you can’t understand me.”

  “Why, my lady, you injure me. Of course I can understand you.” His smile grew even broader as he answered her in perfect, unaccented English. She was surprised at how different it sounded. When Ghortin and Storm spoke in their language, she understood it, but it didn’t sound like English, not even in her head.

  “I don’t understand why you can and he can’t—” She broke off with a wince. Her ankle was throbbing again. “Can you help me? Maybe put some of that Earl’s stuff on my leg again?”

  Ghortin’s dark eyes glanced to Storm in question.

  Storm bent down and scooped her up. “I found her in a ravine at the western edge of the forest; she’s injured her leg.”

  Jenna thought that he looked like he wanted to say more, but held his tongue. Whatever was going on behind those wide blue eyes, she could only guess at.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Ghortin’s voice was still jovial, but his smile had faded a bit. “Come along, lad, bring her in.”

  He waved his left hand over his head with a flourish and the odd swirls on the wall reappeared. Ghortin marched through it and vanished down the newly created misty hallway. Jenna held her breath as they crossed into it. An instant later she was sucked into darkness.

  3

  The corridor that appeared before her was long and formless, as if the walls themselves weren’t quite sure if they existed or not. Faint outlines of doors flared against the blurry tan expanse as they walked by, fading again after they passed. Jenna wished that the mental commentary that had plagued her in the forest would pop up and explain all this as it had the local fauna. Unfortunately, only her own confused thoughts seemed to be bouncing in her head right now.

  Ghortin halted in front of one of the flickering door outlines, his jaw muscles twitching as he glared at it. The outline grew stronger, and then finally held. Ghortin rocked back on his heels and gave the center of the new door a sharp rap with his knuckle. Silently, the door slid away into the wall.

  “Damn elementals, always fiddling around.” With a final glare at the doorway, Ghortin ushered them into the room.

  The door slid shut abruptly. The doorway outline flared once, and then vanished. The wall was left as smooth as if the entrance had never been there.

  Ghortin turned to Storm and Jenna with a grin. “Have to keep those vandals in line you know. House elementals are the worst.”

  Jenna nodded in agreement although she had no idea what he was talking about.

  She was surprised to find they were in a library of sorts. Three walls were covered floor to ceiling by the most outrageous infestation of books she’d ever seen. Some were sideways, others upside down, and still more were backward. There were little green books, fat round lavender books, and monstrous black books. At least her mad fantasies came with good reading material. If she could read this strange language they kept speaking at any rate. And if she really was here and not in a home for the insane somewhere.

  Storm gave the room a careful study before he sat her down in one of two well-worn leather chairs. He stepped back, quickly moving away from an odd furniture arrangement in which the desk hovered menacingly over the remaining chair. The desk was a monster, looking more like a flat rock with legs than a proper desk.

  Ghortin marched across the room, stopping only when he was an inch away from the brutish desk. “I have told you before, desk,” he pounded one of the few clear places on its surface, “leave my chairs alone.”

  Jenna tried to catch Storm’s eye, but he was studiously looking the other way. Great, so the only person she knew here was afraid of furniture and his best friend liked to yell at walls and desks. Lovely.

  Ghortin’s voice rose as he continued berating the desk. “If you continue such behavior, I shall have no choice but to send you back to the prison quarry where I found you!”

  The desk lurched away from the cornered chair. Jenna did a double take as the desk rumbled across the floor as if some small earthquake was taking place under its stumpy legs. Storm turned a nauseated shade of green, but still refused to look at the desk, Ghortin, or Jenna. Jenna took a long shuddering breath and forced this new event to join the rest of the problem thoughts lurking in a dark pit in her skull somewhere. Eventually this would all make sense. Just not now.

  Ghortin paid neither the moving desk, nor the ill-looking Storm, the slightest attention as he pu
lled the freed chair out and settled across from Jenna.

  Jenna glanced back and forth between Storm and the desk. Furniture wasn’t supposed to move, but so many unbelievable things had happened in the past twenty-four hours that she was too overloaded to care. What was fascinating however, was how Storm was that pale sickly green all the way to the tips of his pointed ears.

  Ghortin looked around and finally caught what Jenna was looking at. “Oh, him. Pay him no heed; our friend will be back to his normal self once the desk stops fidgeting.” He smiled as the desk gave a violent shudder that was mirrored by Storm.

  “Does all furniture move around here?” She wasn’t nearly as disturbed about it as Storm appeared to be. Sadly, a moving desk wasn’t the biggest problem she had right now.

  “Nope, this one is my own special desk.” He beamed, and then shook his head. “Alas, the tales will have to wait. You’re in pain, and I’m sensing strange things from you.”

  “I have no idea what either of you are saying, old man.” Storm’s voice sounded as strained as his face looked. “Could we please get on with this?” He smiled tightly at Jenna. She guessed his reasons were equally about getting himself away from the desk as well as easing her discomfort.

  “Oh, do sit down; it’s bad enough without your long-limbed fidgeting.” He shook his head and went to sit on the desk. “Kelars.”

  Jenna caught the strange term, but then that odd memory that knew their language told her that it was what Storm’s people were called.

  With one last glance at the now stationary desk, Storm took the vacant chair.

  “Now that we’re all settled,” Ghortin said from his perch atop the desk. “Maybe you could fill me in on things so that I can fix them?”

  Storm frowned at both of them. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we all understood each other? It’s great that you can speak her language; however, I lack your skill.” Storm’s sour mood had made his handsome face even sharper than before.