The Key of Astrea

Astrea

Jenny walked down a dark, arched stone corridor lined with tapestries. Half the art depicted men in plate armor attacking giants with bladed polearms. The other half illustrated the path of Christ from birth to death. Jenny tried to turn and study the tapestries in more detail, but her body would not respond. She walked differently too, from toe to heal rather than heel to toe. For a few frightening seconds, she fought to control her body. Failing that, she surrendered to the strange vision. She heard the sound of footfalls. I'm not alone.

A man wearing full plate armor and carrying a tallow candle walked next to her. A long sword hung from a leather scabbard at his waist. "We must abandon Fort Esperanza," the man said.

She faced the man. "I agree, Father." Her voice and words were not her own. "But where could we go that the Risi would not follow?"

His brown forehead wrinkled. "Home."

A sense of panic washed over her. "I will not take our people back to Spain. We lived on the edge of society, begging and stealing to survive. The people feared and loathed us. They treated us worse than animals." She gripped an object hanging around her neck. It was warm and slippery to the touch. "I would rather die."

"There is another way, Astrea."

"The Riftkey?" Astrea looked down past her leather cuirass to her leather boots. "But Ramus warned us that it was dangerous."

"But he also encouraged you to practice with it, and he said that one day it would save our people."

"He didn't know what I could do with it."

The man—Jenny somehow knew his name to be Walther—placed a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. "We are the last tribe of Simeon. This may be our only hope of survival."

Astrea took a deep breath. "You are right." She looked into her father's eyes. "I will use the Riftkey."

Walther held the candle out and led them down a narrow stone staircase. The air chilled as they descended. They reached an underground vault through a long hallway. Wooden stands for holding weapons and armor littered the columned room, but the light of the candle failed to reach the distant walls.

Walther picked up an empty grain sack and walked over to a barrel filled with arrows. Astrea continued walking toward the back wall of the vault. She stopped in front of a wooden table where a long, thin mirror seemed to float a few centimeters above its top.

Astrea reached under the mirror and lifted it free of its resting place. The object was more substantial than Jenny had expected. It had a handle, and the proportions were that of a longsword. But where blade would have been, there was a rectangular prism. The sides of the prism were impossibly black, as if there was a chasm instead of a solid edge. The top and bottom were mirrors that felt slippery and warm to the touch.

This is one strange sword, Jenny thought. No, this is the Riftkey, Jenny heard inside her mind. She shivered. Jenny wasn't sure if the thought was Astrea's or hers.

Astrea transferred her grip to the handle. A moment later, there was a loud crack, and the black edges of the Riftkey sparked with blue light. Astrea swung the Riftkey. It resisted movement as if passing through water and trailed blue sparks. The air filled with the clean, chlorine-like smell of ozone.

Suddenly, a surge of energy exploded inside Jenny's mind. She felt herself drift away from Astrea's body and gained control of her movements. She looked down at herself and gasped. Her body was insubstantial and had a silvery mist quality to it. She looked like her ghost, Sally, or more accurately, Astrea. Jenny turned around and faced her host.