The Lark Taps Twice

Chapter 12: Otherworldly Lore

Five minutes later found the three of them in the basement of the Victorian home-turned-museum, and Jim already at work, trying to fix what appeared to be a gigantic glass-less mirror, the oval opening formed by thousands of strands of bluish metal woven into waves and twists, giving the whole of it the impression of being lightweight, though obviously not. Jim himself did not seem put off by the odd object or the general direction of the prince to "repair that;" he'd simply reached into the dusty tool bag nearby and began tinkering.

Leaving Miriam at the base of the stairs, the building owner vanished into the shadows, only to return in a moment with two sturdy padded ladder-back chairs. He set them down near the not-mirror side-by-side and pointed between Miriam and the closest chair to her, staying behind said chair. Understanding his request, Miriam walked to him and seated herself on the chair. She squeaked in surprise when the man stroked his fingertips down the sides of her neck to the top of her arms and kissed her on the crown of the head before pacing around to settle onto the other chair. While she was still processing the effect of his light touches, he enfolded her hand in his and grinned at her.

Gracious, how am I supposed to think straight when he does that?

"I'm glad to know I affect you in some way, my lady." He winked.

Wait, did he read my mind?

"The longer we spend together, the deeper the bond becomes. I have never known of a pair of mismatched soulmates such as we are, so whether you will also receive gifts from the bond is a question I cannot yet answer, my lady, or should I say Lady Miriam?" At this last, his grin faded, leaving only an uncertain half-smile.

Lady Miriam has a particular ring to it; I think I like it. AH! HE PROBABLY HEARD THAT! HE CAN HEAR MY THOUGHTS! But if he calls me Lady Miriam, what am I to call him, Lord Jonatham?

The "him" in question chuckled. "I'm glad you do not mind my form of address for you." He leaned closer and whispered huskily, "I'll reserve your nickname for when we are alone." Amid the sudden bout of tremors that raced along her nerves at that prospect, he straightened and said, "As for what you can call me, Jonatham will be fine almost anywhere, though Lord Jonatham or Lord Magarious would be more appropriate in the most formal settings. And when I'm calling you Mir, you should address me as Tony."

The silver specks in his eyes threw sparks that heated her entire body, and she swayed toward him without thought, and he bent his head to meet her. An inch of musty basement air separated their lips when a screwdriver clattered to the floor close by, and on reflex Miriam yanked her body backwards, nearly toppling off the armless chair.

Only his iron grip on her hand halted her inevitable crash to the floor; even that suspended her at an awkward angle, head lower than the seat of the chair, for a moment before he tugged her upright. For an eternity, their eyes locked, and Miriam's body burst into flames and the heat pressed tightly against her skin, as though she had stepped into the fiery furnace of Babylon and it gave her a hug.

Gracious! All that from a look! I wonder what will happen the next time we-

Jonatham growled, "Keep thinking like that, and I will let both worlds burn while we do much more than stare at one another." This time he was the one to break their connection and turn his face away, directing his next words into the room to include the tinkering shopkeeper still working on the not-mirror. "As it is, time is precious; there's none now for distractions if we are to be successful. I need you both to listen carefully while I get you caught up on the last few years and what must be done today."

Over the next couple of hours, the prince told them of growing resentment in his world, Dyza, aimed largely at his family over the blood relative succession laws that defined who in a family was eligible to apply as a replacement when a relative died before retirement rules his father, the king, had promised on his coronation day would change, for the betterment of all. For twenty years, the king had repeated his commitment to disassembling the hierarchy that favored those related to noble families regardless of qualifications, yet the day to day life of the working class went on unaltered.

One day about five years ago, the king used his platinum anniversary to announce his impending retirement. All might have been well, save that he ended the speech by naming his oldest son Jonatham as his successor and walked away from the press, ignoring their flurry of accusatory questions then and always thereafter. 

Most members of the royal council were enraged that the king had made such a decision without their input, particularly after detailed discussions regarding the structure of a royal election had been ongoing for well over a year. The working classes expressed annoyance at the betrayal, but as few had real aspirations to the throne, they returned to their normal lives without lasting effect.

The lower nobility took the news the hardest, seething with indignation that their chance to become the royal family had been snatched away. Rather than simply accept their fate, they decided to create their own council, come up with their own rules, and hold their own election for the role of king. To prevent word of their treachery from reaching the true king, they hired magic weavers to blind him and his advisors while also casting dark spells to turn their supporters against them.

Some of these spells escaped the control of their casters, and one moonless night they muffled the sky, banishing natural light in an attempt to rid Dyza of anyone who would try to master them again. The terror of being surrounded by unending darkness nearly accomplished their ends, but several leaders emerged across the land to organize the gathering of dry tinder for fires and torches, and the noble's council was undeterred. So too, the royal council and the king kept their senses and immediately set about protecting the magical mirror world.

The inhabitants of Earth were unaware of Dyza, and mostly vice versa, and so it had been since the beginning of time, though a rare few occasionally stumbled through a door portal between the worlds. Thankfully, though all wrote about their adventures, what they described proved too fantastical for the general population in either land to call the stories anything more than the ravings of an overactive imagination.

The royal family had protected knowledge of Earth for many generations, and over that time had found and safeguarded many natural portals to it, including one in the tunnels beneath the royal castle itself. They themselves visited often, enjoying a few days here and there away from the pressure of the monarchy.

Jonatham's grandfather had been the first to do more than that, building a home over one of the natural portals and staying for extended periods of time on Earth after his retirement and only returning to Dyza for a few official functions each year. Jonatham visited often as a young boy, and even when his studies and responsibilities became too much for him to stay for weeks at a time, he still managed several day visits a month.

It was on his first day trip to see his grandfather after the sky muffling that he had been trapped on Earth, followed through the portal by a bird with a message from his father, and by a spell that separated and scattered the three types of energy that melded together to form the passage between the worlds. The note apologized for the spell's effect and explained that the king and his council thought it the best way to protect Earth and Jonatham from the nobles' evil intentions. Similar spells would be sent to close the other portals as well.

Jonatham had spent the next three years building a device to create an artificial portal, the device Jim was currently working on. He'd taken his time getting every detail perfect, rather than go for simply functional, believing that with the portals sealed, he had plenty of time to complete it and return home to assess the situation there.

Then the phantom animals arrived a few days ago.

Jonatham knew that their appearance without a portal meant the barrier between the worlds was thinning,  spurring his need to get home sooner. Urgency consumed him after an entire pack of phantom wolves materialized together just behind the museum and threatened to tear the building to shreds. His grandfather had used the last of his personal magic to obliterate them, passing peacefully moments later in Jonatham's arms. It had been over a year since Jonatham could weld magic, perhaps a side effect of his involuntary residence on Earth, so there had been nothing he could do except lay the old man to rest in the forest and work day and night to complete his machine.

"That's why I was absent from the main hall when you entered. I usually greet any visitors personally, but I have been down here trying to create a passageway to Dyza, only stopping for brief concessions to bodily requirements."

Jim's voice filled the chamber as the prince concluded his tale. "And a right fine job you did on this contraption, Your Highness. In fact, I think it's ready for a test run."