Chapter 2
After going through the miscellaneous legal crap and keeping my eyes tightly squeezed shut for six to seven hours on the plane, I finally arrived and disembarked from the plane with a sigh of relief. The other passengers looked at me with smiles of sympathy as they passed me by on the way to the luggage belt. I had packed a single suitcase consisting of clothing, shower supplies, and the magician's cape. The horn I hid on my person using some of its magic with the constant mental picture of “There's nothing in my pocket. There's nothing in my pocket.” The machine, to my relief, saw and detected nothing. Then again, it was made out of ivory. Do these things even detect ivory? Not worth the risk. I nodded slightly and then pretended to read the journal while I made my way to my flight.
But now that's over with and I can get back to- what, exactly? How am I going to get to the Stone Arch Gateway if I have no idea where to even start looking? I suppose the horn itself could lead me to it, but if I walk around holding a horn in my hand and start pointing it around like a dousing rod, people are going to think I'm some kind of nut! I ran a finger along the shaft of the horn, feeling the grooves created by the twisting spiral. The warm feeling ran up my finger. Maybe I won't have to take it out of my pocket at all. I closed my eyes formed an image of a map of the island I stood upon in my mind and then pictured question marks popping up all over it with another image next to the map depicting the passage in the journal referring to the 'Stone Arch Gateway' and started walking out of the airport. Nothing seemed to happen, so I walked through the lobby and picked up a free local map out of a wire rack, used the restroom, and then stepped outside into the cold, cloud-overcast world. Everywhere I looked there were people, relatively new buildings, and black mini taxis driving to the nearby curb and minutes or even seconds later leaving again with a passenger or two. I then thought of a different tactic: I pictured in my mind a graveyard. A graveyard that may have held my family in it in large numbers. I then felt a strange feeling to open the map I'd picked up and look at it. A blue dot on the map began to grow in what was now a park. I smiled. This might not have been what I wanted, but it was a start.
Several hours of walking and one taxicab ride later with a driver in his late sixties I arrived at the smallest park on the entire island.
“Here you go, buddy. Prince Park. Though why you'd want to come here when there are far nicer and quieter places, I don't know.”
“....” I stared. This 'park' was a little bigger than my bedroom and sat in the middle of the road. It had three trees and a single bench from where you could watch traffic or stare at a few houses if you felt like it. Here? My ancestor's graveyard is in the middle of a road? “Thanks. Think you could wait a minute or two? I won't be long.” The driver shrugged.
“I suppose. But I can't just sit here in this spot. I'll have to park over there by that house.” He pointed up the road. “If you're gone longer than eight minutes you're on your own. Time is money, and gas isn't cheap.”
“I understand. I'll be with you shortly.” He nodded and waited for me to get out. I did so and walked over to the bench and sat down while he drove away. After a minute of staring at the ground I leaned over and placed a hand on the browning grass.
“Hey there, Mink. You don't know me, and I guess I don't really know you, but we're related by blood, you and I.” I felt a little silly for talking to a relative that was over a thousand years dead, but at the same time it was comforting to know that I now stood on the same ground they once did. “I know from the journal that your grandpa never came back from his journey all those years ago, and now I too aim to follow in his footsteps and see what he might have seen. Who knows? I might even come back alive. Thanks for keeping his journal and the horn safe, or the stories that my own grandpa told me might never have existed.” I stood up and brushed my hand off. “Wish me luck.” I pulled the map out of my pocket again and read the various names of towns and streets and landmarks. None of them had anything named 'Equine Forest'. Or equine anything (other than a few race tracks and pubs), for that matter. I knew that Equine was a word for 'horse', but that was not particularly helpful. There were no forests with 'horse' in their name, although after reading through the 'Fun Fact' section I found out there was a tree called Horse Chestnut whose leaves, ironically, were toxic to horses. Fun fact, but useless to me. In the end I decided to ask the cab driver if he'd ever heard of the Equine Forest. After a short walk and nearly being run over I reached the place where he parked and tapped his window.
“You change your mind?” I shook my head and asked him if he'd ever heard of a place called Equine Forest. Either from a passenger or from any old local legends. He scratched his chin while he thought about it. A minute passed by. Then another. Finally he nodded slowly. “Yeah...yeah I think I do recall the name. Why do you ask?” I told him that an old family legend had been passed down from generation to generation about a natural archway of stone that, according to legend allowed one to step into another world. I shrugged, rolling my eyes and smiled like I didn't believe my own words. Which, of course, I didn't.
“It was probably just a passage into a clearing in the forest where a herd of horses passed through from time to time. I just wanted to see if there was any truth to the legend at all or if it was all a hoax like Big Foot.” The old man frowned and wagged a finger in my face.
“Big Foot is real, sonny! I've seen one!” He objected loudly. “As for that forest of yours, it caught fire during a lightning storm about eight hundred year ago and burnt completely to the ground. Nothing has grown there since. I have heard from a few young people on a dare that came running back to my cab that the place is haunted, but only thing really left there now is a pile of large stones near a dried riverbed. If the stones ever formed an arch in the past a burning tree probably fell on it and destroyed it. But if you still want to see it for yourself I can take you there. Won't be cheap, though.”
“How much?” I asked, getting the feeling I wasn't going to like the answer.
“Sixty two point eight pounds.” I blinked. Point eight? Like...eighty cents??
“Pounds? I'm sorry, but I'm from America. Could you tell me what that would be in dollars?”
“Sure. Let me think...” He tapped his fingers on his chin a few times. “One hundred dollars.”
“Ouch!” I winced.
“Yes. Ouch. But my cab is faster and more comfortable than walking. What do you want to do?” I was reluctant to practically throw away a whole hundred dollars for a faster trip. Unfortunately this man knew where to go and I did not. I reached into my back pocket and withdrew my wallet.
“I get the feeling I'm going to regret this later, but here.” I handed him one of the few hundreds I had to him. The cab driver inserted it into his fare box and thumbed the backseat. He then turned his key and started his cab.
“It will be getting dark soon. Once it does it will be freezing out where we're going. I hope that jacket you brought will be enough.” As I slid into the back seat again and buckled up I hoped so too.
While I'm sure the drive was scenic and wonderful, I fell asleep not long after we started moving again. Being in a near state of panic during an entire international flight had a tendency to wear one's self out. It wasn't until we'd stopped and the driver shook me himself that I woke up again. “We are here.” he said simply. He turned back around to face the windshield and pointed into the early night. “There is a path you can follow that will take you to the dry riverbed. From there you are on your own. What little I know about this place I have heard from other people and have never explored it for myself.”
I yawned and stretched and then got out of the cab, taking my belongings with me. The cab driver rolled down his window. “I will wait here for you for two hours. That is when my shift ends and I will need to return the car to my company. If you are not back by then you are on your own.” I thanked him for his generosity but he shook his head. “There is nothing generous about it. I have made more money from you today in the last four hours than I have in two days previous, and I will be charging you for the ride back as well. Trust me, sitting here waiting for two hours is a small price for me to pay in return.”
I left the cab driver and his car with my bag on my back and the horn held in my right hand, still in my pocket. that place gave me an eerie feeling. That same feeling you get from walking through the memorial graveyards for fallen World War two soldiers.
I found the path the driver mentioned with no problem due to the brightness of the full moon, and with a little added speed from jogging (which also helped me keep warm) I arrived at the dried riverbed. Only, it wasn't as dry as the word 'dry' suggests. A small trickle of water flowed along the center of it, creating a gurgling sound that reminded me of the creek back home. I smiled, but was reminded by a sudden cold wind that I could not stay long if I didn't want to freeze. I drew the horn out of my pocket and looked down at it.
“Alright spiral spike. Show me the way.” I held it out at my arm's full length and at eye level with the tip pointing away from me. I was expecting a beam of light to shoot out from the tip or for something in one direction or another to start glowing but neither of these things happened. Instead the hand holding the horn felt a slight tug to my left. I turned two steps. Another tug. I turned another step and felt it pull me forward. “I guess that works.” I thought aloud as I followed the reverse-flow of the river and the tugging of the horn.
At one point I tripped over what I assumed was a a rock and threw my hands out in front of me to catch myself but forgot I was holding the horn. I almost caught myself, but the hard horn pressed against the palm of my hand was not good for my wrist and pain lanced up my arm and I fell anyway.
“Oof! Ahock!” I gripped my right wrist with my other hand as every pulse of my blood through my wrist reminded me that I had hurt myself. I laid on the ground for a few minutes waiting for the pain to fade, and it eventually did. Unfortunately, whatever I had done to myself was not going to let me flex my hand without it hurting immensely, as I found out the hard way from just bending my fingers a little. “Wonderful.” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Just flippin' wonderful!” I picked the horn up again with my other hand and was about to pocket it and head back when an idea that would probably have come to a child faster (which annoyed the crap out of me) occurred to me. I gently touched my injured hand with my left, and focused on my hand healing itself. Within a mere ten seconds I could move my hand with no pain, and with another five the stiffness that usually accompanied freshly-healed muscles was gone as well. Convenient. A little too convenient. Especially since I have no medical training and might have done harm to myself rather than any good. I stood up, suddenly feeling tired even though I'd only just recently woken up from a nap. So it takes energy from me too. Perhaps it only takes energy from me when its use affects me directly. Or perhaps moving stuff with my mind takes almost no effort at all. I frowned. I wish my ancestors had thought to add instructions on using the horn. I might not find out its limits or my own until it's too late. My frown faded as I looked back to see if what I really had tripped over was a rock. It was not. What I had tripped over was someone's abandoned canteen. Wow. People still use those? I picked it up and shook it. Something was in it. Probably water, considering the stream is right here. I uncapped it and sniffed. Then I grimaced and dumped out the contents out on the ground in disgust. It was beer. I hated beer. The first time I'd tasted it, I gotten sick.
Because I had not thought to bring a drink with me, I rinsed the canteen out in the stream several times and then filled it with the ice-cold water that flowed and drank some. The water was colder than my hands had told me and I choked on my first mouthful. I dropped the canteen while coughing and most of the contents flowed out onto the ground. After I could breathe normally again I refilled the canteen and took only sips until my thirst was sated. Then I refilled it one last time and clipped it to my pants by the clamp on the back of the canteen and started walking again. While I walked I wondered what could have caused the canteen's previous owner to simply abandon it out here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he saw a ghost! I smirked. Yeah right.
I whirled around when I heard a twig snap. Which made no sense given that there hadn't been a forest here in centuries. What I saw almost made me drop the canteen if I had still been holding it in hand. With the exception of the nearly dried riverbed next to me, I was completely surrounded by trees. Well, more like the glowing, transparent images of trees.
“What the-” They were tall, they were wide, they were beautiful. I'd never seen trees like these before. Their trunks, while the standard brown were smooth. The leaves appeared to be made of silver, though that could have been from them glowing. And each of them sported thousands of white petaled flowers with yellow centers like the flowers you'd see in a grassy meadow. Oh yeah, and most of them were on fire.
I could feel the heat, smell the smoke, and the almost-pain of my skin tightening from the exposure to it. I looked up and lightning began to fall all around me, striking one tree after another, which I knew from science class to be impossible. Lightning rarely, if ever struck within the same area more than twice, and these bolts, without fail, struck each and every tree that stood around me. The following thunder boomed as if the lightning were fired from a machine gun. It never seemed as if it were going to end. Suddenly terrified (and with good reason) I ran through the only opening in the phantom fiery forest and kept running until I was out of the burning areas. Though that did not last. The storm almost seemed to chase me. Directly along the path I ran along more and more bolts struck the trees as I passed them, ignited the sap in them, and spread the fire even more. I kept running. If I can smell the smoke, feel the heat, and hear the thunder, I'd rather not risk letting one of them fall on me!
The smoke, though not real was still making my lungs ache. Twice I had to leap through flames the reached from one tree to another as if searching out more fuel and when I looked briefly at my jacket I saw if had been singed. This increased my fear, and I put more speed into my legs. This can't be happening!!! This can't be happening!!! I kept screaming in my head. Why am I here? Why in the world had I come here?! Was it to find out about my ancestors? Was it to gain more insight on how they lived? Was it for power? It didn't matter now, I just had to keep moving or else I'd burn along with the phantom forest. Of this my frightened mind was certain. But in spite of this I slid and fell to a stop at a even stranger sight. In the small clearing before me there was another phantom in front of me now. No wait, there were two. One was an old man, and the other was a...horse? No, it has a horn. That must be a Unicorn. What are they doing? I picked myself up and walked closer to see them standing next to a pile of broken stones and a phantom doorway that had at first been blocked by their bodies. The old man had a long beard that reached down to his waistline. He was nearly bald with but a few wisps of hair still remaining. He wore a filthy long blue robe. The Unicorn was orange and stood, at highest point, maybe half a foot taller than the man. They seemed to be speaking to one another. I kept walking until I was practically right next to them, but they payed no attention to me. The old man's expression was grim, and the Unicorn looked sad.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Mace?” The Unicorn said. Unicorns could talk?! “This is the only known way from our world to yours. Once you've destroyed it we will no longer be able to come to your world.” Mace nodded.
“I believe it is for the best. While your people were welcomed when you first came to us, our race's leaders have become greedy. The people would seek to protect you, but those in power would seek only to exploit and destroy you. It would only lead to bloodshed on all sides.” He shook his head. “No, this is the best way. Perhaps the only way.”
“Yes.” The Unicorn nodded slowly. “There was a time long before our coming here that our two races shared one world, but your people have almost forgotten those times. Only a few of you that were gifted with our fallen's horns during the Great War still remain, and most of those horns have decayed too greatly to open the way now. Only yours remains.”
“And I shall be leaving it behind to my family when I go with you.”
“How shall your family find this horn when you've gone and this forest is naught but ash?”
“My nephew is waiting outside the forest with instruction where to find it after the forest is gone. He will pass on the horn and our family's story to future generations.” The Unicorn nodded.
“Then let us finish our task.” Mace nodded and raised his arms, holding in one hand what I held now. The Unicorn lifted its head and unfurled its wings-
“Wings?! I exclaimed aloud. “That's not a Unicorn! That's a-” I paused. “what was it called...” I scratched my head, but could not find the word. Not that it really mattered, I supposed.
Both horns began to glow as bright as a floodlight and the lightning that was fallen tripled in intensity. There was not a second where the sky was not lit up by falling bolts. I suddenly got the strong feeling that if I were going to do something I would have to do it now. But what was I supposed to do? I looked around. Already more trees were catching fire or exploding as the sap in their 'veins' ignited. My eyes returned to the phantoms. Mace was sweating and swaying on his feet. The- not-Unicorn looked much the same, though to a lesser degree. Behind them the phantom doorway stood open and showed a world that was daylight even though it was night here. I walked closer, stepping onto the rubble that must have been the Stone Arch Gateway in modern times. I reached out a hand and touched it, but nothing happened. My hand passed right through it.
The heat and smoke was getting worse. I coughed and wiped tears from my eyes. Then Mace began to speak again.
“That...should do it.” He said, dropping his arms and breathing heavily.
“Yes. Let us go.” The horned and winged horse replied. Leaning on the equine for support, Both Mace and his companion approached the gateway. The Equine started into it, but Mace stopped him.
“What is it?” It asked.
“I am going to leave a mark for my descendants so that they can follow in my footsteps and go to your world if they so desire. It will also show them what we have wrought when they step into the limits of the forest. Give me a moment.” The Equine stopped and Mace crouched down to one of the base stones of the phantom archway and inscribed a symbol I'd only seen in one place into it using the glowing horn's tip. If you took the typical elliptical eye-shape and then disconnected the points on either end and slid each two separate directions about halfway then connected the two with a bent line and placed a tiny circle next to the curved line's bend, that was what you'd get. My Grandpa had that symbol tattooed on his shoulder. He'd said it was our family's coat of arms during the middle ages and that I shouldn't ever forget it.
“That symbol...why that one?” The equine asked.
“That is my family's symbol. If anyone will recognize it, it will be my family's descendants.”
“Ah. Are you ready?” Mace nodded and, leaning even more heavily on the equine for support, crossed the arch's threshold and vanished. Then the archway disappeared. And the storm. And the entire forest, leaving me standing in the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold again. I shivered and looked around in shock, my mind trying to process all that I had just witnessed.
Somewhere back the way I had started I heard a car's horn blare for three seconds and was silent for four, and then it blared again. The cab driver must be telling me to hurry it up. If I'm going to do something, it needs to be now. I approached the pile of stones and with what little light the moon provided I began searching for our symbol. Alas, it was too dark. It looks like I'm relying on magic yet again. I should have brought a flashlight. I pointed the horn at the pile of stones like the horn itself was a flashlight and willed a ray of light to emit from the tip. It didn't work. I suppose it was because I didn't really want it to, as I thought it was a bit of a waste. Fortunately I picked up a box of matches someone left in the bathroom back at the airport. I placed the horn on one of the rocks and brought out the box. It had only four matches in it. No wonder they left it behind. I swiped one against the starter trip and it burned to life. My eyes darted from one stone to another, seeing nothing. I frowned and tossed the first match aside before it could reach my fingers, and then walked to the other side of the pile and struck another match. After fifteen seconds of more searching there was still nothing and I began pulling some of the lighter stones off the tumbled pile. When I'd moved as much as I could I lit another match. I thought I caught sight of it for an instant, but then the wind blew and the flame went out. I took the last match out and waited for the wind to die. When it did I saw it again and placed the empty box of matches on it and went to retrieve the horn from the other side of the pile.
“Alright, Mace, I found your mark.” I touched the horn's tip to the symbol. “Now show me what to do next.”
The mark glowed and an image projected out from it like something out of a science fiction movie. The figure of Mace himself appeared, smiling. I stood up from my crouch so I could look at him almost eye to eye.
“So my family did indeed find this place! To whomever you are, here you find our family's legacy. Here, in this forest's graveyard, you find a remnant of an age long forgotten by the world at large, and I suspect, even more-so forgotten in your time. Perhaps you yourself are the only person left who knows what our ancestors wrought in the time when this Stone Archway was first wrought. Or perhaps even you don't know. But all that aside, I am assuming that you wish to see what is on the other side of this Archway, yes?” He stopped speaking and waited. After a minute of him saying nothing else I spoke.
“Yes, I would.” His smile faded.
“Yes, I suspected as much. Well, to that, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I can tell you how to open the path to our ancestral home. The bad news is, the only key that can open the way is the horn that you've brought with you, and due to it no longer being attached to its original owner it shall be greatly weakened from being used as such. So weakened in fact, that you may not be able to use it to return. If this is not to your liking then remove the horn from the symbol and return to your home.”
This must be why grandpa didn't go through the gateway! He didn't want to be cut off from his family! But can I bring myself to do otherwise? I loved my parents and what friends I had. Could I really take not being able to see any of them again? Well, if that did happen, at least I'd finally have moved out of my parents' house. I smiled in mild humor, but it was not really something to laugh about.
“Are there more horns in that other place?” I asked the image of Mace. He didn't answer. Or show any sign that he'd heard. Obviously he had not thought to add that information. There probably would be.
The cab driver beeped his horn again and I looked back in the general direction of the sound again. If I turned and ran back now, I just might make it before he left. But if I did that I would probably never return here again. “Mom, Dad, I'm sorry.” I looked back at Mace. “How do I move forward?”
Mace's image nodded and gestured to the pile of stones.
“Point the horn's tip at the largest stones in this place, and command 'Rebuild!' the image of what once stood here shall appear. It shall appear to be a doorway filled with stone with a single hole in its center. Push the horn into the hole while twisting it and it shall go in almost to the end. Then pull it back out without twisting it. You will know what to do from there.” The image of Mace disappeared, and I thought I could hear the sound of a motor starting up and fading away. As one door opens, another closes. No turning back now. I picked the horn up and did as my ancestor instructed. As before with the phantom forest, the image of a door appeared, but I was facing it from the wrong direction and had to take a few steps to the right. There was the hole, and with only a moment's hesitation I inserted the horn and screwed it in. When it would not go in any farther I pulled it back out again and a straight line appeared straight down the middle as the door swung open to reveal the same daylight scene I'd seen in the vision left by Mace. I licked my lips. Once I went forward, I risked being trapped. But since when has Humanity ever gained something without a risk being taken? I entered it at a run and was nearly blinded by then broad daylight sun on the other side beating down into my face.
I was in a clearing not unlike the one where the Stone Arch Gateway stood in my world before the forest burned down. Huge trees stood all around me, though these ones had no flowers and seemed menacing, somehow. Then my eyes adjusted and I saw they had angry faces on their trunks. Angry as if they were sentient and hated my being there. I had the sudden urge to turn around and go back, so I did turn, but found that the gateway had shut. Unlike the gateway in my world, however, this one was made from stone. I lifted up the Unicorn horn again and then stopped as I noticed something different about it out of the corner of my eye. I brought it closer to my face and saw that it had cracks running all through it and its color had faded from a shade of creamy vanilla to the color of a Human skull that had been sitting in a desert sun for ten years. The horn still held together at the moment, but it looked like it could fall apart the next time I used it.
“Nope, you're not getting me home. I guess I'll have to find another horn.” I looked around at the forest again, which, though silent when I arrived, was now starting to become noisy as the local creatures decided I was no threat. There were no paths, no gaps in the forest, and little light outside of the wall of trees surrounding me. I shrugged “I guess I'll just pick a direction and start walking.” So that's what I did.