Secret Places and Hidden Things

Chapter One

His name was Jack, but that was all he knew.

Dark mountains loomed over him, golden at the edges with evening sunlight. He peered at them for a moment, unfocused, before he realized he was inside, looking through a massive window and sitting in a very comfortable chair. He wondered how he'd arrived in such a pleasant situation but decided not to question it.

A small noise nearby pulled him from reverie. Another person was there: an old man—or perhaps a boy—probing him with icy blue eyes.

"Who are you?" the man asked softly.

"I'm not really sure," Jack responded, trying to guess the man's age. He was almost colorless, with silver hair and a pale complexion, but his face was unlined and his eyes were bright. They looked through him vaguely as the sunlight refracted within, glowing like glacial ice.

"Not sure... Not really sure, though. So, maybe you remember your name?"

"Jack, I think."

"Well, that's something," the man said. "Can you remember anything else?"

Jack thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, only slightly curious.

The man leaned back in his chair and surveyed him carefully. The room around them was deeply quiet. Spots of bright sunlight revealed fragments of reality—a carved armrest here, a bit of embroidery there—small truths floating in the dark. Jack supposed the man must be searching his memory, but in the end he just shook his head and looked down at his spidery fingers.

"Then, who are you?" Jack asked.

"Me? Oh, now, let me think. I call myself Daerk. Yes, that's it, I believe."

"That's an unusual name, isn't it?" Jack said, grinning. This Daerk felt like an old friend. Maybe he was.

"Yes, I suppose... But, how would you know? Maybe you remember more than you think." He rubbed a long finger along his palm, looking at Jack. His eyes were empty. "It isn't my real name," he said, after a moment. "No. Well, I'm not sure what that name was. I lost it a while ago, you see. Daerk seemed fitting enough, so that's what I went with." He waved a hand airily.

"But, how can you lose your name?" Jack asked.

"How, indeed. I suppose a name is like anything else; if you don't keep track of it, it just disappears. Things do seem to disappear rather easily in this place..." He drifted off, examining Jack's chair.

Jack looked around the room. It was small and circular, made of some sort of black stone. The last brilliant ray of daylight made the polished wooden furniture shimmer faintly, their red cushions burning. The ceiling went on forever into the darkness, even above the peak of the window. He supposed things might get lost up there.

"What is this place, exactly," Jack asked, "Or, maybe, where is it?"

Daerk didn't seem to notice Jack was talking to him. When he finally looked up, he leaned forward curiously, scanning Jack's face with his eyes. "This place? Oh, yes, right. I call it the helm, but that's not a name, is it? Well, it doesn't matter. As for where it is, I have no idea." He looked out the window again. "Today it's in the mountains, looks like."

Jack followed his gaze. "Will it be different tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Probably. You could walk out the door and end up anywhere, really. It's easy to get to this room, though. Yes... I usually come here when it's cold and make a nice fire." He looked at the empty wall across from the door. "The fireplace seems to have disappeared, however."

Jack looked at the wall too. With the deep shadows gone, he could see the stones more clearly. Large and smooth, they fit together like puzzle pieces, some bigger than his whole body. "How big is the helm? It must be enormous." He looked up at the endless ceiling again.