Chapter ten: Question of Reality

DD548

Captain Sheridan was, once again, peeved at his situation. Things had started well; less than an hour after the storm, DD550 had reported that they'd sighted the Akula. But as they closed in, they realized that they had a problem: besides the fact that the Aquilae had given them the slip, the Akula was hounding a hapless heavy cruiser flying a Mystic flag. Aeron had doubtless intimidated her captain into escorting him to Medina. But whatever the cruiser's reasons for criminal compliance, Sheridan was sure that if his DS.34 closed with the Akula, the larger vessel would try to stop them.

He needed more ships. So he dispatched a frigate, FF1407, to acquire some help. The nearest GRN patrol stopover was a merchant port just south of Fiona's Forest, a little place called Culpepper. Who names these towns, anyway?

Freya sat near the cliff's edge outside the cave's entrance, watching the waves crash against the rocks. Many of the crags looked large enough and sharp enough to cleave a storm-tossed ship in two. No wonder so many ships meet their end here. She looked to the outlying rock Crimson was sitting on, seemingly oblivious to the pounding surf all around him. They were both anxious to get moving after nearly a week of rapid healing spells and rehabilitating exercise. Tonight was to be their last night in the cave; they'd leave first thing in the morning.

Quite bored and with little else to do, Freya considered the events of the past week. Crimson had told her what their benefactor had told him after she'd left the waking world. She'd said that her name was Sumetra; and no, she wasn't a god or a devil, an angel or a demon. She was the queen of a clan of beings that protected and tended to the forest, and she had instructed her clan to let them pass unhindered. Suhilin, Sumetra's trusted friend and a great warrior king, would personally watch over and protect them. Two of the things that she had said were still perplexing, however. First, that when they finally saw Suhilin and/or her, not to be shocked or frightened by their appearance. Second, that she would soon have a favor to ask of them, but that they didn't need to wait for her. They could continue their journey and, when the time came, she would find them through Suhilin.

Discussing such life-altering things had made them realize that, in spite of their mental contact, they really knew very little of each other's experiences. They had spent much of their recovery time remedying that. Judging from Crimson's descriptions of Choras in 580 a.d. (including an atmosphere heavy with moisture), Freya believed that he would be quite comfortable in Burmecia. When she had described it (or the way it had been) to him, he'd agreed. Then they'd exchanged stores about the soldiers they'd fought alongside, the sights they'd seen, the people they'd met. The two knights talked about anything and everything, except for the two things that Freya had still not mentioned: Fratley and her years wasted chasing him. Her omission raised some uncomfortable questions, she found.

Why not tell him? The worst part, perhaps, is my uncertainty in regard to his death. I didn't see him die, saw no body. Of course not, it was incinerated with the rest of Cleyra . . . And yet, he left even before we fought Beatrix . . . could he not have made it to the ground in that time? I heard that a female Kindjal was traveling with him, yet neither Prince Puck nor Sir Fratley made any mention of her. Nor did I see her at any point that I can recall. Why not? It isn't at all unusual for two dragoons with similar missions to travel together for a time, helping one another. Why would she not be present, especially with Cleyra under attack? Perhaps they broke paths before then . . . and all of this speculation is likely moot anyway.

Crimson had finished examining the coast from his rocky outcropping, and leapt from rock to rock back to the cleft from which he'd come. Freya, in spite of having seen him in action before, was still surprised at the smoothness of his movements. In short order he was bounding up the cleft, looking satisfied with something. The odd grin on his face chased away the Dragon Knight's troubled thoughts for the moment, and one side of her mouth quirked up as she grunted amusedly at him.

"You certainly look pleased with yourself. What did you find?"

"The storm blew us much further south than we had dared to hope. Two days of quick marching along the coast should bring us to the port town of Culpepper. It is perfect for our purposes, Freya, absolutely perfect. Ships of all kinds carrying humans, demihumans, and mystics stop there, as do pilgrims over land coming from Robo's Shrine. Its only permanent residents are shopkeepers and bartenders. We should be able to go relatively unnoticed! I will require something to disguise myself, of course, but we shall have time enough to consider that en route."

"Wonderful! You still wish to wait until tomorrow to leave?"

"Yes. I believe that we may need the extra rest."

"Why do you say that?"

Crimson frowned. "Branches sway without wind in the forest of my mind. I feel as though . . . as though something odd is about to happen."

"I, too, feel uneasy. Let's go back into the cave. The sun has nearly set, and the sooner we sleep, the sooner we can wake up and leave."

Some hours later

Freya opened her eyes, heart still racing from the tension of the dream. Wasn't it a dream? Her triblade was exactly how and where she'd left it. It must have been, she thought with relief. But it was unlike any other dream I've had. . . so real. . . Glancing back into the cavern she saw Crimson, still sound asleep. The frazzled dragoon looked towards the entrance, curious to find out if there was anything where she had seen Fratley's spirit standing in her dream. With a gasp, she saw that there was a black sphere. Just as her spear was beside her, there was a Gate where she had seen Fratley. Lucca had mentioned during her ramblings that, on occasion, Gates would appear in this very Forest linking someone present to a critical point in space and/or time that had been a source of emotional turmoil for them. Fratley . . . Slowly, as though in a trance, Freya walked to the vortex and stepped in.

When Suhilin saw the Gate open, he cursed his misfortune. Of course, such a Gate would have to open tonight, near this particular lair. He cursed even more vehemently as Freya walked towards it. Alone. He sent out a mental call for help, and gathered his strength. Suhilin knew that such Gates closed after the person for whom they appeared entered them, and reappeared only to return that person to their time and place. But if the Gate closed with Freya on one side and Crimson on the other, their minds would destroy themselves trying to reestablish the lost contact. Though Suhilin was powerful, mind and magic were not his specialty, and holding the Gate would be difficult.

Two terribly young Greens, only about a hundred ninety years old, landed next to him. A slight swishing of leaves was all that betrayed their arrival; even Suhilin's keen eye could not pick them out of the moonlit forest. Focusing his energies on the Gate, the Bronze leader pushed, and held it open. Though the two dragons beside him weren't even half his age, their Green minds gave them mental power rivaling Suhilin's, and he felt the strain on his brain ease somewhat as his two helpers put their own focus on the Gate.