Chapter 2 -- Not in Kansas Anymore
"Well, I think it's finally letting up..." Sydney announced after what felt like hours. Despite their shelter, they were both thoroughly soaked and freezing. "How're you holding up, Nigel?"
"Well, my cast seems to be melting, but otherwise I'm just fine..." Nigel muttered, shivering.
Sydney sighed and nodded. "Okay, let's get you back to the car..." she muttered, climbing to her feet then helping Nigel up.
"Thanks..." he said, rearranging his crutches. At his first step, the crutches sunk several inches into the muddy ground, causing Nigel to lose his balance. He grabbed onto the nearest solid object he could find for support, namely Sydney. "Oh, that's just great!" Nigel exclaimed, disgusted.
"Hey, look on the bright side..." Sydney suggested, grinning at him and helping him regain his balance.
"Is there a bright side?" he asked, staring at her.
Sydney nodded and glanced around thoughtfully. "Well, the sun seems to be coming out, and it's warmer already." Sydney grinned at him and slid one arm under his shoulder, pulling his arms around her. "And you get to walk back to the car like this."
Nigel laughed softly. "Ah, the silver lining. You're right, Syd, I feel better already."
"Somehow I thought you might." She smiled at him. "Just lean on me, Nigel. You're in good hands."
"So I'd noticed..."
Sydney laughed. "Nigel!"
"Sorry, Syd..." Nigel said, trying to look contrite and failing horribly. "Okay, which way to the car?"
"Um, that's a good question..." Sydney looked around for a moment to get her bearings, then pointed. "That way."
Nigel nodded. "That's right. Because we came from back there."
"Right."
As they slowly set off, Nigel observed quietly, "Everything looks much different than it did."
"Well, between the rain and those high winds, that's not really surprising..." Sydney told him.
"No, suppose not. What surprises me is that it's sunny again."
Sydney stared at him, frowning curiously. "What do you mean?"
He tried to shrug, but realized that it was an almost impossible maneuver with both of his arms around Sydney and both of hers around him. "Well, the paper said that we were basically in for three days of non-stop nastiness once the front rolled in."
"Must have been the squall-line." Sydney shrugged. "Count your blessings, Nigel."
"Okay." He grinned at her and nuzzled her ear. "One."
She glanced at him, laughing. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Nigel..."
He laughed with her as they kept walking. "I think we're lost, Syd..." he said after several minutes. "We should have hit the path some time ago."
"Wait..." She frowned. "Did we even leave the path, Nigel?"
"I guess we must have when we took shelter."
Sydney stopped and shook her head. "No, this is wrong, Nigel. We were in a tiny little stand of trees, less than a minute's walk from end to end."
Nigel nodded, looking around with a concerned frown. "And this is an actual forest..."
Sydney nodded agreement, but forced herself to remain calm. "Yeah, it is, Nigel."
Concern wanted very badly to give way to panic, but Nigel did his best to obey Sydney's injunction to stay calm. "This can't be good, Syd..." he muttered.
"No, it can't."
"Um, so... what do we do now?"
"Good question." Sydney shook her head and looked around, assessing the situation. No land-mines, no headhunters, no guerilla fighters, no governments collapsing around their heads, so they had been in worse places than this, but never this close to home, and never quite so unexpectedly. "Let's just stay calm and think about what happened."
Nigel nodded. "Yeah, that's a good plan. Um, let's see, first we annoyed the tour-guide at the museum."
"And then we came out here for the picnic. Did we fall asleep?" she asked, trying to remember. It was possible, however remotely, that something could have happened then.
Nigel considered for a moment, then shook his head. "Um, you did seem tired, but I don't think either of us actually fell asleep at any point." He sighed. "Which seems to rule out the possibility that we were moved here..." He shook his head. "Wherever here is."
"Here is private property..." a low voice informed them.
They slowly looked up at the woman who had approached them on horseback, completely unnoticed. She was young, no more than eighteen, with long black hair in a neat braid. Her clothes were rustic, suede breeches and a green tunic. She had blue-gray eyes and angular features which currently seemed less than hospitable. Or perhaps her expression only seemed inhospitable because she had a crossbow trained on them.
"Um, hello..." Nigel began, swallowing hard.
"You are strangers. Who are you and what are you doing on this land?" she demanded, never raising her voice.
"Um, I'm Sydney Fox and this is my friend Nigel Bailey. We didn't mean to trespass on your land."
Nigel nodded in agreement. "We just... lost our way."
She considered them dubiously for a moment before responding. "Quite a trick that would be, considering that the nearest town to ours is three day's ride from here." She shook her head in obvious disgust. "Try again. The truth this time, please."
"That was the truth!" Nigel protested. "We were having a picnic when it started to rain..."
"Why do you persist in lying to me?" she asked quietly. "Most men know better." She shook her head and glanced skyward. "However, you seem harmless enough. You should come with me to my village. It will be dark soon enough and you would do well to be safely indoors before that."
"We're not afraid of the dark..." Sydney informed her flatly.
She fixed Sydney with an expressionless stare. "You should be. Not all the Sidhe in these parts are friendly, especially to strangers. And then there are the wolves to consider."
"Wolves?" Nigel gasped, horrified.
"Sidhe?" Sydney repeated, drawing her brows together in confusion.
Nigel stared at Sydney then at the girl. "Sidhe? Did you say... Sidhe?" he gasped. "Fairies?"
The girl rolled her eyes in disgust. "Haven't heard that name for them since my grandmother died. Makes them sound so harmless, doesn't it? Well, they aren't. And if you know what's good for you, you'll take me up on my offer to escort you back to the village."
Sydney held up one finger. "Um, hang on a second." She grabbed Nigel. "Fairies? Wolves?" she hissed.
He nodded weakly. "Um, Syd, I'm guessing we aren't in Kansas any more..." he replied in a whisper.
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm guessing that's a fair assumption. Which begs the question..."
"Where are we?" Nigel nodded and sighed. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?" He looked up and addressed the girl in a normal voice. "This is going to sound like a strange question, but... where are we?"
"Is your friend the village idiot?" she asked Sydney. "Or a court jester?"
Nigel stared at her, offended. "I, young lady, am a Doctoral candidate! I went to Oxford!"
"Cool it, Nigel..." Sydney suggested. "Remember who in this picture has the deadly weapon."
Nigel trailed off abruptly, nodding. "Good point, Syd."
"It was an honest question..." Sydney told the girl.
"Travelers with no supplies who have no idea where they are or how they came to be here. You will want to talk to my Lady. She will give you the answers you seek." She looked at Nigel again. "What's that on your foot?"
"Well, it was a cast. Now it's a soggy mess."
She nodded and slid lightly from her horse. "Your leg is broken? You may ride, then."
"Um..." Nigel shook his head and started to back away.
The girl smiled reassuringly and gently caught Nigel's shoulder. "He is a gentle beast. No harm will come to you, good sir."
Nigel flushed slightly. "No, it isn't that. It's just that..." He pointed to his cast. "I'm afraid I'm in no shape to climb aboard."
She nodded and clicked her tongue twice and the horse dropped onto its front knees. "Better?" she asked, offering him her hand.
"Just get on the horse, Nigel..." Sydney suggested.
Nigel awkwardly pulled himself on to the horse. She had been right. He was very gentle. Most horses would not have tolerated his fumbling attempts to mount. Once he was on its back, the girl clicked her tongue again and he slowly rose.
"Draig, forward..." the girl muttered, patting the horse on the flank.
"That's a pretty name..." Sydney told her as the horse obediently set off, followed by the two women.
"Thank you, milady."
"I don't think I caught your name."
"Brenna, acolyte to Audra."
"So you're studying to become a... shaman?" Nigel asked.
She stared at him in mild confusion for a moment before replying. "Priestess."
"Ah, of course. Sorry." Nigel smiled nervously and gently patted the horse's head. His tail flicked and his nostrils flared but he did not otherwise react.
Brenna smiled faintly and patted the horse's muzzle. "Be nice, Draig..." she admonished gently. The horse's tail subsided and he walked on.
"You're, um, very good with animals..." Sydney observed quietly.
"It's all about tone of voice." The horse turned onto a side path and Brenna followed. "The village is this way."
"He knows his way home?" Sydney asked, approving.
She nodded. "He's a wise old one." After a few minutes of silence, she added, "We should be there in ten minutes. Less if we hurry."
After several more minutes of silence, Nigel observed, "You don't talk much, do you , Brenna?"
"I talk when there is need to." She shrugged, then added, "Please do not think me impolite for my silence. It is merely habitual."
"No, of course we don't think that..." Sydney assured her. "It's a good habit. Most kids your age do nothing but talk."
"The vacant-minded have little else to occupy themselves." She lapsed into silence again, until a smudge of smoke appeared in the distance. "The village."
"How many people live there?" Nigel asked.
"Fifty-three, in total."
Sydney fell in next to Nigel. "What do you think?"
"I think that maybe we did fall asleep at the picnic and this is a dream brought on by my pain-pills. Notice her accent?"
Sydney nodded. "Yeah, sounds medieval."
Nigel nodded. "Like her clothes." He paused and stared straight ahead. "And her village."
Sydney stopped and stared for a moment. The village definitely had a very primitive feel to it. "Some of those structures look almost pre-middle ages."
"That hut there looks like it was transplanted directly from Scara Brae..." Nigel added, pointing to a large, stone dwelling on the outskirts of the village. Scara Brae was, of course, a stone-age village on the northern tip of Ireland.
Sydney nodded. "Except for the stone used. That's indigenous to New England."
Nigel nodded. "And the girl's tunic is cotton..."
"What if medieval Europeans built a village in North America?" Sydney muttered, shaking her head.
"That's exactly what it seems like, right down to this girl's superstitious belief in the Sidhe." Nigel shook his head. "There's no way this is happening, Syd."
"Feels real to me." Sydney shook her head. "I mean, obviously something is up..."
He nodded. "But what?" He sighed. "Syd, I can't even believe that we're even considering the possibility that this is anything but an hallucination."
She shrugged helplessly. "Nigel, we have seen some very weird things in our time together. Let's just... stay calm and approach this like the scientists we are."
He nodded weakly and took a deep breath. "Step one, find out where in God's name we are."
She nodded. "Step two, find out how to get home."
"You reckon the storm was related to all this?" he asked.
"Anything is possible, Nigel." Sydney shrugged, accepting the possibility. "Why do you ask?"
"A storm rolls in and suddenly our heroes find themselves on Prospero's island..." Nigel muttered.
"Huh?" Sydney asked, staring. He was not exactly quoting The Tempest, but he was definitely referencing the play.
"Um, traditionally, strange weather phenomena are associated with transportation to mystical realms..." Nigel shrugged. "The hurricane in The Tempest, fogs and heavy mists for Avalon. There are others precedents, of course..."
"Mystical realms?" Sydney regarded him dubiously.
"Well, I don't need to point out that this is not home sweet home, Syd. Just... brainstorming." He shrugged again. "I mean, obviously this is not Prospero's island, Syd, but it's not home either."
She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, guess not. If it was, we couldn't walk five minutes in a straight line without hitting a building."
"Sounds dreadfully cluttered..." Brenna contributed quietly, leading them towards the stone hut. "Wait here..." she said in a tone that made the imperative somewhere between a suggestion and an order. She left them outside and vanished into the hut.
Sydney helped Nigel down from the horse, who regarded them both, if it was possible for a horse to do so, with contempt for a moment before walking into a small stable adjoining the hut.
"What do you think?" she asked, looking around.
He shook his head. "Well, it looks suitably primitive, but it smells too good to be a real medieval village."
Sydney laughed and nodded. "You've got a point there..."
A girl of ten walked by, pulling a boy of six or seven with her. Both were dressed in what looked like sacks with armholes. "You do it again, I'm feeding you to the werewolves!" she told him firmly. "I doubt anyone'll miss you..."
"Hag..." he muttered, glaring at her. Both ignored Sydney and Nigel as they vanished into a small hut.
"Interesting..." Sydney muttered. "Well, the clothing is certainly authentic-looking..."
"Authentic to what, though, Syd?" Nigel asked, shaking his head in confusion. "Authentic it may be, but it's not consistent. I mean these buildings... stone-age huts next to thatched cottages, and... that smithy there looks like it's from the early eighteen-hundreds..."
Sydney nodded in agreement. He was, of course, right. It was like a bad movie-set where no one had bothered checking for historical accuracy. Except that it was real. "We've got to be missing something..." she told Nigel. "Some explanation or... something." She shook her head. "I don't know, Nigel."
"Neither do I."
Brenna emerged from the hut again. "She wants to see you. Come."
Shrugging, Sydney followed the girl, supporting Nigel.
"You, sit there..." Brenna told Nigel, pointing to a chair next to the fire-pit. As Nigel sat, she produced a knife the dwarfed the one that Sydney wore.
"Hey!" Sydney said, taking a step forward as Nigel struggled to his feet.
She regarded Sydney with mild amusement. "I want to get that... thing off of your friend so I can apply a proper cast." She placed the knife on a table and began rummaging through a cabinet. "If I had wanted you dead..." she added as she searched, "you would have been well before you became aware of my presence." She returned to the table, laying out several supplies.
"Birch-bark?" Sydney asked.
Brenna nodded. "What else would one use for a cast?" she asked tonelessly, pulling a kettle off of the fire. She poured a spoonful of white powder into a cup and splashed in some hot water. She handed it to Nigel. "You're in pain. Drink."
"What is it?" Nigel asked, sniffing cautiously at the contents of the cup.
She began cutting away the soggy cast. "What do you care, as long as it relieves your pain?"
"Child..." a warning voice came from the other room.
"It's a derivative from the poppy flower." Brenna pushed up his pant leg and examined his ankle thoughtfully.
"Opium?" Sydney asked, surprised.
"That's one name." Brenna nodded. "How long ago did this happen?" she asked Nigel, gently probing.
To his surprise, it did not hurt in the least. "Just under one month ago..."
She glanced up at him expressionlessly for a moment. "Where ever you are from, your medicine leaves much to be desired..." She prodded some more, then glanced up at Nigel. "However, I think that the worst of the damage can be repaired. That should be cool enough to drink now..." she added, reaching for a small container. She removed a handful of cream from it and began smoothing it over Nigel's bruised and discolored ankle, muttering in a low voice as she did so.
Nigel took a hesitant sip of the brew, grimacing at the bitter taste. He glanced at Sydney who shrugged. Sighing and hoping for the best, he drained the cup. Brenna was still examining his foot, so he turned his attention to the empty cup in his hand. "Syd, have a look at this..."
Sydney stepped around Brenna and bent over Nigel's shoulder. "Wow, the workmanship on this is excellent."
Brenna glanced up at her dubiously. "It's a cup..."
She shook her head and returned her attention to Nigel's foot, obviously not knowing what to make of the two. In short order, Brenna had softened the strips of birch-bark in hot water and formed them into a neat cast on Nigel's foot. Once it dried, it would hold the shattered bones and torn muscles in place as well as any plaster cast. It also had the advantage of being substantially less bulky and so not impeding movement as much. She propped Nigel's foot up on a low stool and vanished through the door at the far end of the room with an injunction to Nigel not to move.
Sydney crouched on the ground next to him, patting his knee sympathetically. She had not realized how horrible his foot looked under that cast. Almost a month old, the bruises still looked fresh and there were fresh surgical scars from the pins that had been placed in his ankle.
"How are you?" she asked gently.
He shrugged. "Still disoriented, I guess."
Sydney grinned and nodded agreement. "I meant your foot. I hadn't realized how bad it was until I saw it just now..."
"Oh..." Nigel shrugged. "It hurts, Syd, but no worse now than it did this morning."
"Even with her poking at it like that?" Sydney asked. She had been wincing in sympathy the entire time that Brenna had been working on Nigel.
He shrugged. "Strangely enough. She's got wonderfully gentle hands. Between that and whatever was in that drink..." he trailed off, rubbing his eyes and grabbing on to Sydney's shoulder.
"You okay?"
He nodded. "Tea just kicked in, I think." He grinned sheepishly. "Little dizzy."
Sydney pulled a chair next to him and slid her arms around him, supporting him. "Just close your eyes and relax, Nigel."
Nigel closed his eyes and snuggled against Sydney, careful to keep his foot immobile. "Hard not to relax like this, Syd..." he muttered quietly, smiling at her.
She grinned and shook her head. "You..." she whispered, kissing his cheek.
Nigel opened his eyes, looking disappointed, and gave Sydney a wistful look. Sydney laughed and started to speak, but paused when Brenna returned to the room, joined by another woman. This woman was older than Brenna, although she did not seem old enough to account for the fact that her waist-length hair was completely white. Her dress was of a light, billowy fabric, red with yellow and orange accents. Her face was round and kind as she regarded the two strangers in her home curiously.
"My Brenna tells me that you are still suffering some disorientation?" she asked in a low, gentle voice.
Nigel was very much reminded of his childhood nanny, while Sydney thought that she looked remarkably like one of her teachers at boarding-school.
Sydney spoke first. "That's one way of putting it, yeah."
"I am Audra. You are Sydney Fox and Nigel Bailey?" When they had nodded, she continued. "What brings you here?"
"Um, we don't even really know where here is..." Nigel began.
She nodded, smiling faintly. "I see. Then you are from the other place?"
"Other place?" Sydney repeated.
Audra nodded. "Yes. The one without the Sidhe, or magic. The one where our Lady is no longer worshipped."
Nigel frowned thoughtfully. "What is this place called?"
"This village is called New Swansea. The land is Avalon."
Sydney and Nigel stared at each other, at a loss for words.
Audra smiled and muttered quietly to Brenna. The girl picked up a torch and left the hut. "You are surprised?"
"Just a bit..." Nigel muttered sarcastically.
Audra smiled faintly and bent to examine his cast. "It's dry now, you may move if you'd like."
Nigel was staring at her like a deer caught in a car's headlights, so Sydney spoke. "This is Avalon? The Avalon?"
Audra nodded mildly. "Yes, my child. Does this surprise you?"
"Yes!" Sydney nodded.
Audra frowned curiously. "I thought you knew. You see, my Brenna had led me to believe that you were beginning to suspect as much. Your friend's talk of weather phenomena and such led her to think that you must have been aware."
Sydney shook her head. "No. It's a pretty huge leap, isn't it?"
Audra nodded. "I suppose for you it must be."
"How did we get here?" Nigel interjected. "How do we get home?"
"It's hard to say. Clearly you have been summoned here, though by who and for what purpose I can not begin to imagine. Only the person who called you here can return you to your own place. You must find her."
"Her?" Sydney repeated. "How do you know it was a woman?"
Audra shrugged. "Few men have the power necessary. Women are more attuned to these sorts of things. Certainly no druid brought you here, so it must have been a priestess or sorceress."
Brenna re-entered the hut. "The guest-house is in readiness for them, my Lady."
Audra nodded. "It grows late and you both seem fatigued. My Brenna will take you to the guest-house so that you may rest. In the morning, we can discuss this further."
Sydney started to protest, then glanced at Nigel, who seemed exhausted. She nodded. "Okay. We can discuss it in the morning."
"Syd..." Nigel protested. Sydney stared firmly at him and he stopped. He shrugged and nodded.
Audra smiled and nodded. "I advise you not to leave the guest-house after nightfall. There are things which wander the land at night that you do not wish to encounter. Everything you should need is provided. Good night."
Sydney helped Nigel to his feet and the two followed Audra through the growing darkness. Nigel winced and sidled closer to Sydney at the sound of a wolf howling in the distance.
"They very rarely approach the village..." Brenna informed him quietly. "It's the werewolves that you have to worry about."
"How can you tell the difference?" Nigel asked, curious.
Brenna pointed skyward, indicating the crescent-moon. "Here you are." She led them into the guest-house, waited for them to have a look around, then turned to leave. "Lock the door once I have gone..." she advised before vanishing into the night.
Sydney immediately did as suggested, then turned to examine the cottage. It was not large by her standards, though by the standards of these people it probably was. There were two rooms, the main room and a smaller room off the back, which turned out to be a bathroom. No tub, but a toilet and a large basin for washing. Running water after the ancient Greek design, she observed gratefully.
She returned to the main room to examine that. There were two bed set into alcoves in the wall, a small round table, and a large, central fire-pit. Nigel had already found food and dishes in the large cabinet by the door, and there was a water-pump as well. Clean clothes sat on each of the freshly-made beds. She smiled and nodded. Wherever and whenever they were, it was nicer than many hotels that they had stayed in on various Relic Hunts.
"Hungry?" Nigel asked her, examining the contents of the cabinet.
She shook her head. "You?"
Nigel sighed and shook his head. "There's some chamomile tea here..." he offered.
Sydney nodded and filled a brass kettle, setting it over the fire-pit. "Brass..." she told Nigel.
He nodded. "I'd noticed. It's odd, really, Syd. Technologically, in many ways, it's almost as if they've been stopped just short of the Industrial Revolutions."
Sydney nodded. "But they still use folk-medicine and believe in werewolves and fairies..." she added.
Nigel nodded. "Very odd..." He shook his head and sat down on one of the beds, leaning against the wall.
Sydney sighed and sat next to him. "Very odd..." she agreed, nodding.
