C2: Magic Words

Hans woke up as sun streamed through the Venetian blinds and into the small corner commandeered by both John and himself. The girl, Lelei la Lalena sat in a little indented cot in the opposite corner of the room. The old man, Cato, slept next door in the only bed of the house. The cottage reminded him of some of the small farmer cottages that littered the Bavarian landscape, dugout cots for the children in the main room of the house, the one room built for the adults. The cottage was split into two, there was the kitchen, dining, sleeping and working room and there was Cato's room and study. Slowly getting up and not trying to disturb the sleeping soldier next to him. He slid out the door and into the early morning sunlight, grabbing his rifle on the way out. There was a cooling, dew-like humidity in the air, making his stretch off feel ever more refreshing. A sound of a bucket dropping, its content spilling over the floor, caught his attention. Looking around, he saw Cato move buckets over from the stream and to the trough for his mule.

"Senior Cato, brauchen vu aide?" Mr Cato, do you (formal, single) need help.

"Ah, Legutus Krüger. La Noctia tait nett zu du?" Ah, Lieutenant Krüger. The night was kind to you (informal, single)?

"Da, was circa vu." Yes, what about you? Hans said slowly, pronouncing every syllable with concentration.

Cato laughed and waved him over "Komm, Komm. Ich ken michs Langia est trés dificile four Ein vie du." He paused and let Hans's brain catch up. I know… my language is hard for one like you. A small smirk grew on the old man's face. "Du und Dut Ami sont rapide discentibus." You and your (informal, single) friend are quick…

"Discentibus?" Hans asked.

"Discipulus… Scholarius?"

"Ah, Ein Schüler order Ein Student." So he's calling us quick learners. "Danke, Senior Cato."

"Bah." He waved it down. "Es est trés interessant four Ein ancien Mann vie Ich. Zwei Manns avec nix* ken four la langia." It is very interesting for an old man like I. Two men with no* (used before a word to state that there is a lack of. It is like the suffix –less and in this case it is used as nix ken (without knowledge)) knowledge for (can be used as 'of') the language. "Ich bin Ein Professus." I'm a professor.

"Professus four vas?" Professor of what?

"Professus four Magikae." Professor of Magic.

"Magicae? S'est nicht…" Magic. That is not…

"…Real? Magikae s'est eine Fabrik? Nein, es n'est*." …Real? Magic is a fabrication (not real)? No, it isn't ('est nicht' can be turned into 'n'est' as an abbreviation but est nicht can be used to exaggerate the point). With a wave of the hand, the bucket that had been dropped began to have a blue ethereal glow. It lifted off the ground and floated back towards the stream.

"Heilige Scheiße…"

"Vohere kommst du, vero?" Whereabouts are you from, truly? The old man's features frowned, his stance becoming more defensive.

"Drin compariri avec here. Ich hab nix ken." In comparison to here. I have no idea. Krüger looked over the man with scrutiny.

"Vero? Ein Plaza avec nix ken four Magikae. Se genre four plaza n'est bekenned." Really? A place with no knowledge of magic? That sort of place is not known.

"Nix Ken, aber et est stillan vie real." Unknown, but it is still as real. He argued, taking a step backwards, towards the edge of the wall, his hands resting on his officer's pistol. "Se Weurldus n'est unsers." This world is not ours. "John und Ich sont nix four se Weurldus, wir sont four ein Weurldus four Machinis und Technology, nicht Magikae." John and I are no of this world, we are of a world of machines and technology, no magic.

The man visibly relaxed. "Ein Weurldus avec nix Ken four Magikae. Therest Historia four solch Weurlden auf le autre Seite four La Portum." A world with no knowledge of magic. There are stories of such worlds on the other side of The Door.

"La Portum?"

"La Portum four Alnus. S'est nur ein Zwelf Mille Vest." The Door of Alnus. It is only a twelve miles west. "S'est dot destinat?" It's your (Plural) destination?

"Da, es est four la moment." Yes, it is for the moment. "Es est solch ein Plaza se…" It is a place that… Hans paused to try and think up the right word.

"Vürde mach Sensus" Would make sense. Cato finished. Hans looked at the man, his usually soft eyes narrowed to more of a glare. The frown on the professor's face mellowed and the old man returned. "Ich machen le Transweorld zu Coda Dorf drin le Stunde. Du und dut Ami solte Transweorld avec Lelei und Ich" I'm making the journey to Coda Village within the hour. You and your friend should journey with Lelei and I."

"Da. Nix Obster." Yes. No problem. Hans had no idea what had just happened there, it was almost like both John and Hans's presence in this world disturbed him. The old man returned to do his magic and attempted to take the buckets between the stream and the trough. There was a bang in the house, causing both Cato and Hans to glance at each other before running indoors only to see both John and Lelei around a small chalk written ring with a small smoking soot mark in the centre with three piles of materials, one yellow, one black and one white, in smaller circles, each connected to another be a line, forming a triangle within the larger circle.

"Gunpowder." John looked up smiling at the pair.

"Gunpowder?" Cato asked.

"Pulver four unser Cartridge sa la Dilatia four le Push four le Bullet." Powder for our cartridge that explodeds for the push of the Bullet. Hans explained to the old man

"Sulphurus, Salpeter und Holzcoal." The old man counted off. Sulphur, Saltpetre and Charcoal. Hans translated thought.

"John, how do you know how to make gunpowder?"

"I grew up on a farm. My grandfather made his cartridges for his shotgun, though for the saltpetre we generally sourced it from chucking our shit onto some wheat stalks and cut grass. It'd take months but we could turn that into saltpetre. As for sulphur, that was only a tenth of the whole mixture, so we could easily buy enough from the town chemist."

"What's with the chalk?"

"Lelei says it is something called Kemia."

"I've never seen chemistry like that?"

"Have you read Mary Shelly or Victor Hugo? In those books, they speak of alchemists and hermetic scholars. It's like magic."

"Probably because it is. Our ageing friend next to me is a sorcerer, supposedly as high up as a professor and if I had to guess, Lelei is an apprentice of sorts." Said old man began looking over the smoking remains of the primitive gunpowder and began taking some notes.

"Well… I see… this makes this all a little more interesting and complicated." John sighed. "I'd expect to read this in some fantasy pulp magazine. And here I am living it. Let's hope it this isn't the King in Yellow sort of fantasy." John could see the confusion on Hans's face. "Horror story… Never mind. Let's just hope it is all sing and dancing dwarfs and fairies rather than actual brutal medieval disease and warfare."

"Speaking of wars, we have one of our own to get back to. Cato suggested that we head to a place called The Door of Alnus, or something. From what I gathered from Cato, there is a possible link between worlds there. So maybe we can get back via this Door."

"Sounds fantastical enough for this world, sure, why not. What could go wrong, touch wood." He knocked one of the cottage's supporting pillars thrice. "When are we going?"

"He's heading to a local village to pick up some supplies within the hour. You all packed up?"

"More or less." He said, looking around, packing a small roll of spare clothing that he used as a pillow. "Done." He shrugged, putting on his soup bowl of a helmet.

The two of them exited the building and moved out, the pair of natives came out behind them. "Helpen?" Help?

"Nein, es est fein." No, it's fine. The old man shrugged, moving towards the donkey, which, with the help of some magic, was quickly saddled and connected to a cart. The cart moved forwards and stopped in the middle of the road. The girl grabbed her staff and jumped on next to her master. "Komm, Komm." Come, Come. The old man waved them on. John offered crouched and cupped his hands together near his waist and helped Hans onto the cart, who in turn gave John a helping hand up.

"Danke." Thanks. John said. His mind still thinking half in English and half in whatever language the locals spoke. Looking over the back of the cart, he saw Cato flick the reins to get the cart moving. He was looking over the wooden sidings, admiring the way the morning sun seeped through the trees and on to the bushes, trees and forest floor, dotting the ground like stars on water, swaying into random patterns of golden light. The gentle breeze followed the path of the forest track, bringing a cool breeze to help against the late summer sun. The world they were in was so perfect in comparison to the one they left. No more rattling of machine guns or the distant booms and whistles of enemy artillery or the crying of the men under his command as they mourned the dead. No all he could hear was the trickling of a nearby stream, the chirping of songbirds, and the soft creaks as the cart trundled down the beaten path of some far off world so utterly foreign that he took comfort that the German Sniper, a person who had killed many of his own men, was an anchor to a lost home. He chuckled to himself. 'Here I am getting all sentimental, it's still better than the trenches'. But then again, there was a pang of guilt, here he was, in a world untouched by the horrors of industrial warfare, with the warm air in his face, rather than the mud and muck of Flanders.

Rather than dwelling on whatever was happening in a world that he deemed neigh impossible to think of he took out his notepad and pencil and began looking over the pages upon pages of work that he had compiled during the conversation with the Professor and his Student last night about languages. He had started to create tables for the language. He was happy to find out that the sentence structure of this world was close to English, which made things a lot easier for him. That had been a problem for Hans, for as much as he could speak English, he had some trouble with the large amount Germanic words in the 'Saderan' language, causing him to trip him up with his grammar. Though through their combined efforts of translation, with Hans being taught German, English and Latin in school and John learning English, Greek and French in both formal education and with the fact his unit was stationed next to a French one. Flicking through the pages, it looked almost like a small language textbook, with the tables on Possessive, Personal and Article, Determiners and Pronouns as well as a small phrase book towards the back.

Looking up and the view had changed from passing trees to large and relatively flat wheat fields, in the distance a collection of what looked to be ten odd buildings. Next, to the road, the stream had been redirected into a irrigation or runoff channel leading towards the village and what looked like a small watermill, likely making this the centre of culture and commerce for the surrounding farms and hamlets, 'a little like a parish, back home.' John added mentally.

As they rode closer towards the village, the two of them were beginning to pick out parts of the buildings more clearly. Apart from the one building in the centre, that they assumed was the local chapel, given its shape and position, there were only two two-story buildings, that mill and what was probably the tavern of some sort. The cart came to a stop just outside of the tavern, where a stable hand moved to assist. Both John and Hans jumped off the back of the cart, swinging their rifles over their shoulders as the four of them walked into the market square surrounding the well in the village centre, there were a few things on display, most notable being a blacksmiths and a tailors working out of their houses as well as what looked like nomads unloading exotic gear out of the back of their beautifully decorated Vardo carriages. Looking over the Gipsies, John noted how, like Lelei, they all had the similar silver like hair and the captivating, and always alert, turquoise eyes.

Cato and Lelei went off to browse some of the vegetable stalls looking over the carrots' and squashes' that were on the verge of moving out of season. Hans leaned towards John to his right. "We should check out the church and ask what the priest knows. If memory serves me right, it tends to be the clergy, nobility and merchants who were best educated in this sort of time period."

"Worth a shot." John shrugged, passing through the doorway.