A World Apart
Chapter 2 of Team Gilligan
"Well," said Derek van Helsing, "this is an auspicious start to our enterprise." He stirred his styrofoam coffee at the wheel of their rental car. Through rain-runny glass he kept watch on the nature park across the street. The vehicle bars had been swung in place here at sunset, but it was a simple matter to swing a leg across when the time came. Like Gilligan and the skipper, he wore a disposable clear raincoat and hood. Each also carried a small suitcase. Presumably the villa they were promised came with maid service.
"Just a bit longer," Derek decided. "We want it full dark, but we'll find our way by the light poles."
Rain rattled on the roof. When Gilligan opened his back door to dump the remains of his soda, rain sizzled on the street. "Golly, Derek, are you sure you can find that invisible doorway?"
"Hence the mask, old boy. I can see it. The portal is uphill from a plaque celebrating a Revolutionary War battle. Not far at all, though I daresay we shall get our cases wet."
The skipper warmed his hands around his cup. "What about the language barrier?"
"They'll supply us with translator stones once they realize who we are. Master Oro of the gaming district is our contact, the one Cambris made arrangements with." Derek looked up and down the street. "Apart from that, gents, I've no idea what to expect on the other side. The time of day is bound to be different, so we'll have some 'portal lag', as it were." After a few more minutes: "Now or never, lads!"
They dashed across the street, hopped the barrier, and splashed along the concourse by overhead light. Derek found the small monument and walked up a grassy knoll, donning the mask. "There it is! We'll need to stay in direct contact through the gateway. But first, doff the rain gear. Cambris says there's no plastic over there, and we want to keep it that way." They got sprinkled some in the march through what Derek saw as a glowing blue arch.
Lunari, the Outworld
Gilligan awoke from a doze. Derek was right about the portal lag, as they'd arrived from early night into late afternoon. A chill sea breeze ruffled the curtains. He was about to close the window when the green-skinned maid stopped by the door carrying a clothes basket.
"You are awake, Master Gilligan. Master Oro has arrived." Her words had a peculiar mental echo due to his translator stone. It was a matter of tuning out the foreign words and listening to the inner understanding.
He made his way through the great room, where their suitcases lay on a long white sofa, going left through the kitchen and breakfast room onto the deck. He was still reeling from events: arrival at the teleport station, media attention with their curious glass ball 'cameras', a zip tube ride, and the busy harbor district.
"Over here, Gilligan." The skipper and Derek were with a large man reminiscent of Lurch with a mustache—except for the greenish skin. "Master Oro was waiting for us all to be together for the briefing. I was about to ask him how he got to Rotbone Castle for Cambris' to-do list."
"I flew." Oro leaned back in the corner of the wood railing. "In gargoyle mode, each can carry the weight of a man. Never again!" He made a rumbling laugh. "They were busy cleaning the great hall. Cambris swept a platform clear, and a tin can bopped a vampire on the head. Then she was at him with the broom: 'Be off, miscreant degenerate! You are a disgrace!" All four men laughed. "I talked her into coming here tonight. She's going to get you prepared for Khot, City of Thieves."
Derek pulled his jacket closed, somewhat protectively. "What of this Count Rotbone? Is he as dangerous as Dracula in our world?"
"It's debatable. Rotbone is a Nosferatu class. He spends a lot of time in taverns frequented by the underworld. He was once heard to complain, 'These women are driving me batty!' He was speaking, of course, of the newly arrived Brides. Now I'll take my leave, as they make me nervous."
In the next hour, Gilligan ate faster than was good for digestion, as he didn't want it on his breath. Vampires didn't like that. The water fowl with crisp veggies wasn't too different from what he was used to. He was first out on the balcony as the sun set. It had a short wraparound to the north, facing Rotbone Island, away from the sea. He spotted three flying shapes against the sickly yellow horizon over Rotbone Island. "Here they come, here they come!" He bumped into the skipper in his haste to clear a spot for them. First to land was Cambris, wearing a lacy red and black creation. Emmy wore her new black dress, and with her was . . . a boy?
Gilligan understood. "Emmy, it looks like you weren't cheated out of being a mom after all. That's great." Not so much for the boy, forever limited to a child's body. Emmy drew near to permit a hug, and the boy's eyes widened. He must have thought she'd put him to the fang.
Derek had orange interior light on one side of his face, and blue moonlight on the sea side. "It's plain to see that you aren't going to let go of this, Cambris." He indicated her waist, where Emmy's travel mug hung, allowing transport in mist form.
"You mean," the skipper said, "you're going with us?"
"I don't believe I caught your name back at the Locklor ruins."
"I'm the captain, so everybody calls me skipper."
"Captain Skipper, I will indeed accompany you. There must be no trace of the evil one in this world or the next."
"But," Derek objected, "in a city of thieves, what if the canister is stolen?"
Emmy answered by indicating herself, plus two fingers.
"Three very mad sisters," Gilligan guessed. "We'll make sure that's understood."
Cambris brought out a map showing the principality of Khot. She swept into the breakfast room to lay it on the table beneath a hanging lantern. The maid, who had started to come in, hurriedly turned around and fled. "South is the royal district, adjacent to the magic school with its teleport in the commerce sector. A bridge crosses the river Brue into the Old Quarter. It is the domain of Karst, King of Thieves."
"Thieves?" The skipper put a hand to his throat, thought better of that move, and dropped it. "We wouldn't know where to start."
"You will," Cambris said, "with some of them in my thrall. You have found your outfits?"
"Sure did!" Gilligan mimed sword thrusts. "I'll look like a regular Errol Flynn! A real swashbuckler!"
Derek stayed the youth's hand. "How long before we're found out? I wager two minutes. We'll need trustworthy connections right out of the gate. I'm counting on the young assassin serving as Karst's right hand. She's said to have defeated a vampire lord."
That drew hissy fang shows from both ladies.
"Then," Cambris said, "she can use his ring. The one belonging to Dracula is mine. We must leave at this time tomorrow. May I count on you?"
"I'm in of course," Derek said. "Have you decided on any magic items to lend us?"
"They would end up being stolen," she replied.
The skipper wasn't going to be odd man out. "I must say, Miss Cambris, you seem really confident about this."
"It is in the planning, Captain Skipper. Though we are strangers on their turf, the advantage will be ours." Cambris moved back to the cleared spot, and all three leapt into the night.
"She means to say," Gilligan opined, "the advantage is hers."