Short Stories

Spring

The forest rang with birdsong and rustled with the march of insect feet as Trulia Goodwin of the testral dimension, emerged from the interdimensional stratum easing into solid form, taking time to adjust to the Jauntal dimension. The strain of travel left her tired and needing to rest, but her assignment was urgent. Taking a slow breath, she inhaled the aromas of the forest. The decaying needles, the pine trees, the deer, and humans. There were Juantine nearby.

She rotated, examining everything, leaning into the protentril fabric to see through the trees and brush. They were too distant to have noticed her. A band of six men, dressed as soldiers gathered in a huddle around a woman, a bent-over, wrinkled up hag. Trulia listened.

"A traveler? Here? Why?" one armored man said.

"To take back what does not belong here."

The men all looked around at one another.

Trulia bit her lip. A seer among the Juantine was unexpected and inconvenient.

Sinking into the fabric, the veil between dimensions, she faded as much as she dared. If she went too far, it would pull her back into the testral dimension and she would not have the strength to press back through without resting. In this near-interdimensional state, she would be an apparition to Juantine eyes, her body vaporous. She set a stone in her sling and rushed them.

The men gasped. Some reached for their swords. She pulled free of the fabric, fully materializing, and let a stone fly. The nearest man fell. The seer laughed. Trulia let go another stone, then ducked as one of the men slashed at her. They were fast, well-trained soldiers, but she was faster. She brought them down, one at a time. And all the while, the seer cackled.

After she bound the men, she paused before the seer. Threadbare linens hung around the old woman's frame.

"What manner of oracle brings warning and then enjoys the downfall of her hearers?" The Juantine language felt vulgar in Trulia's mouth.

"The manner what has no love but for its own satisfaction. You judge me, traveler?" Missing teeth gave the seer's speech a whistling sound, gray hair hung loose over her shoulders, and cloudy blue eyes held Trulia in her gaze. "You do, but I judge too."

"Judge me. What do you know of the Testrine?"

"I know they are travelers. They go from place to place, manipulating things as they think best." She licked her lips and pressed her shoulders back, making her spine crackle. "I know they want their rock back. Got no use for no rock, I don't. I'd give it to you if I had it."

"Of course, you don't have it." Trulia wanted to be off before the soldiers woke. Their bonds wouldn't hold them long once they did. "Do you know who does, seer?"

"The witch in the castle, of course." The way she dragged out the "a" in "castle" tightened Trulia's jaw. "Anyone what's got something like that will be in the castle." She laughed and coughed. "After you take it away from the witch her link to the power will be gone, and someone with a big sword, or magical staff will come along and kill the witch sos they can be in the castle, 'less you was planning to stay."

"I'd rather die than stay here."

The seer laughed. "You may," she said right before she faded.

Trulia lunged, but the seer was gone. How had she not sensed the nearness of the fabric?

Queen Antirui Wedore lounged in her gilded throne.

"They love me." plucked the last petal from the blood-red rose she'd pried from this morning's bouquet. "They love me not."