The Door in Crow Wood

The Door in Crow Wood

By Rob Summers

Copyright 1996,1997 Rob Summers

Smashwords Edition

Library of Congress Copyright Number for The Empress,

Part I of The Door in Crow Wood: TXu000839363

Library of Congress Copyright Number for The Emperor,

Part II of The Door in Crow Wood: TXu000839364

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Empress, Part I of The Door in Crow Wood

Prologue: Six Years Before the Kulismos

Chapter 1: The Misara Fijata Razabera

Chapter 2: Tsawb

Chapter 3: The Ruins of Lucilla

Chapter 4: The Summer Stars

Chapter 5: The Vulture’s Borders

Chapter 6: The Village of Ruin

Chapter 7: The Iron House of Ursula

Chapter 8: The Valley of the Past

Chapter 9: The Palace of Reflections

Chapter 10: The Council of Simone

Chapter 11: The Mountain Track

Chapter 12: Simone the Soldier

Chapter 13: Trans-Titan

Chapter 14: The Battle of the Field of Parting

Chapter 15: The Crossroads

Chapter 16: The Valley of Thunders

Chapter 17: Cemetery House

Chapter 18: The Trunk-Fire

Chapter 19: Hazot Tower

Chapter 20: The Pretender

The Emperor, Part II of The Door in Crow Wood

Chapter 21: The Galley Heracles

Chapter 22: The Little Appian

Chapter 23: Kulismos

Chapter 24: The Menander Tollpoint

Chapter 25: Farja

Chapter 26: Metuza the Dog

Chapter 27: The Black Hall of Purgos

Chapter 28: The Heretics’ Pool

Chapter 29: The Court of Chess

Chapter 30: The Silb Maze

Chapter 31: Dowerkass

Chapter 32: Nashpa of the Mangars

Chapter 33: The Ride to the Snow

Chapter 34: The Ice Caves

Chapter 35: The Medallion and the Cloak

Chapter 36: The Emperor’s Battle

Chapter 37: Zeeba, Daughter of Nero

Chapter 38: And the People of the East Shall Be Saved

Chapter 39: Tsawb Again

Chapter 40: The Witch Gelen

Postscript: In the Year of the Kulismos

Rob Summers’ Other Works

About Rob Summers

Connect with Rob Summers

Chronology of the Fold

Word List of Kreenspam

Moves to the Chess Game

Where are the Maps?

(A note from the author)

An ebook reader or smart phone screen is far from ideal for displaying maps. So with apologies I ask the reader to go to http://sites.google.com/view/2foldmaps/home to view 1) a map of the continent of the Fold and 2) a map of the entire Fold. Their artistic merit may be judged from the portion shown on the book cover, but the forgiving reader will find them useful.

The Empress

Part I of The Door in Crow Wood

Prologue: Six Years Before the Kulismos

Twelve year old Simone Gareth sat on the sun warmed cemetery bench, stroked the little invisible animal at her side, and cried. All around them the ground was carpeted with dazzling leaves, and the wind was tearing down more from the sugar maple boughs. Two early snowbirds hopped in the branches. The tall, thin girl thrust her hands in her jacket pockets to control their shaking.

If you go, she said, I don’t have anybody.

The creature’s claws skittered on the concrete bench surface as it turned to face her.

You have your family, it said, it’s voice scratchy and high.

Some family, Simone pouted.

And I’ll come back, it went on gently, if at all possible. The only Door known that connects my world with yours is far away in the Mediterranean Sea, and it was very difficult for me to reach you from there. But now that I’ve done it once I see I have some chance of doing it again. Still, I must warn you that it may be years.

I’ll just die, Simone muttered.

Simone—Simone? I’ll miss you very much.

Then why do you have to go? It’s only been four months.

I’ve told you. I have to report to my people. I’ll come back for you. You and your brother must someday come to my world—to the Fold.

Raspberry, tell me now about your world.

The little creature locked its front claws into her jacket sleeve. I’ve told you very little, I know, because the language lessons have been more important. When you and Clay come, that will be soon enough to learn about our ways. Promise me that you’ll study, Simone. Study both Gellene and Kreenspam equally, for you’ll need both languages. And you must make Clay study too.

He doesn’t like to learn them, not like I do.

But he must learn them. Simone, swear by Ulrumman that you won’t forget and put the books aside. Remember that I brought them here at the risk of my life. You swear?

OK, I swear by Ulrumman. She wondered dully who or what she was swearing by.

Good. Someday I’ll make it clear to you why you must know our languages and come to our land. You’re too young for the whole story, but I’ll tell you this much that I’ve been holding back. We Fijats have kept a watch on your family for twenty-three generations. Yes, we knew your remote ancestors.

Simone’s eyes widened. Suddenly she thought she understood something. Is that why we’ve had so many ghost stories in our family? Was it you?

My folk, yes.

Mom—when she was in college—she said she heard things, saw things move.

Yes, a clumsy friend of mine who was not supposed to be noticed by her. Zatel is rather old now, and is probably napping high in a yellow wood in my homeland. It was he who instructed me how to get here to Viola, Indiana, when I was chosen to come looking for your mother. Twenty-two years had passed since his visit, you know. We didn’t even know that Susan Tanner had married and had children.

Simone’s tears had at last stopped. She looked down at the place where the Fijat crouched invisible. Raspberry, why didn’t your friend talk to Mom like you do to me? She still thinks it was ghosts.

Much has changed since then, my dear. Then we waited and watched. Now the time has come to reveal ourselves, to draw you back to the Fold. But when I came I was so worried about frightening you.

Simone faintly smiled. "You wrote those notes to me in the margin of my Alice in Wonderland. (She spoke as of something long ago, though it had only been in June.) I thought I was going crazy, or that Clay was playing a trick. And the first time you spoke to me, I was scared. A leaf fell in her lap and she brushed it away. But after you became a secret friend to Clay and me, life became so interesting. You gave us the language lessons, and you taught us to be brave and unselfish and truthful. How to be a noble descendant, a Misara Sisskame."

Both words are accented on the second syllable, dear.

Simone said it again, correctly. Then they were quiet, both remembering the business at hand.

To you I am Raspberry, a secret friend who you know little about, but— Simone began to cry afresh. —but in my own land, in the Hule Argura or Silver Forest, I am the Misara Fijata Razabera, and a member of the council of the Forest Obscure. I have great responsibilities.

Yeah, you’re on boards and committees, Simone said bitterly, like Mom.

No, child, it’s different. I can’t explain everything; it’s too much for you to hear now. Raspberry rubbed Simone’s hand with her furry muzzle. I must go. Goodby doesn’t say it well enough, does it? But goodby, my dearest.

Simone took a few ragged breaths. Goodby, Raspberry.

The Fijat dropped to the leaves and skittered off a few paces. Study the languages! she said. Never forget me! I will come back and you must be ready. Be very careful of yourself and of Clay. Goodby!

Simone heard the creature race off across the cemetery lawn. She stood and ran after her.

Raspberry, Raspberry!

She stopped and listened, her lips trembling. No answer. In a lull in the wind, the fallen leaves all about her lay unstirred. Slowly she turned back and made her way to the break in the fence that separated Greenlawn from her own yard. She climbed a steep bank to Cemetery House where her younger brother Clay stood by the ramshackle back porch, his blond hair sticking out from under a stocking cap.

He grinned nervously. She’s gone?

Yeah, Simone said. Maybe for years. I guess we’re orphans again.

She passed through the porch into the house. In the bathroom she washed her face and then surveyed herself in the mirror of the medicine chest, her fists clenched at her sides.

"Mij koru dal zel-korangfetal, Razabera," she said with all her soul.

(I never will forget you, Raspberry.)

Chapter 1 The Misara Fijata Razabera

Two teenage girls stepped onto the back porch of Cemetery House, hoping for some evening breeze in the July heat. One of them was Simone Gareth, very tall and thin, a dark blonde with a taut jaw and thin lips. The other, Sarah Overby, was her neighbor and friend, a girl of average height, pretty, and red-headed.

Sarah seated herself precariously on a pile of cardboard boxes. I thought your dad was getting you and Clay this weekend, she said.

Simone did not answer at once. From a rip in one of the screen windows, she peeled off worn out masking tape and crumpled it in her fingers. He canceled again, she said. That’s three times already this summer. He always says it’s his psychiatrist’s advice. You know, like seeing his own kids would give him a nervous breakdown or something.

How’s your world history paper coming? said Sarah, preferring to change the subject. They had just graduated from high school and were taking a summer school course together at the local university.

It’s done. That’s why I invited you over. Would you like to learn some more Gellene?

Sarah’s smile became somewhat fixed. Simone and her brother Clay were always chattering to each other in obscure languages and somehow, after showing polite interest, Sarah had been drawn into it. She felt it was nonsense, although Simone seriously maintained that Gellene and Kreenspam were spoken in some far off land—quite where she never said. Sarah was curious about the tiny, hardbound books printed on very thin paper and from which Simone studied with a magnifying glass. They too were never really explained.

I suppose a little Gellene would be all right, Sarah replied, but what about supper?

We’ll make our own, Simone said. Mom’s leaving in a few minutes for some meeting, so we’ll just throw anything together.

The back door creaked and Susan Tanner appeared, dressed for her meeting. Much shorter than her daughter, Susan was square jawed and somewhat plump, her short-cropped, dark hair flecked with gray.

Simone, May Tyler is picking me up, but I don’t want you to try to drive the car anywhere. The oil pressure gauge is reading low. Maybe it’s just the gauge itself going wacky, but I won’t take chances. There’s leftovers in the refrigerator and some chips and things on the table. Try to tear Clay away from his chess and his locks and make him eat something.

OK, Mom. Will you be late?

I don’t know. You know how these curriculum meetings can drag on. Bye-bye. Have a nice evening.

Susan left the girls on the porch and descended the steep driveway to a point where she could flag down Mrs. Tyler by the road. Simone stood looking out across the cemetery through a gap in the trees. Greenlawn was huge and many of the stones large and impressive. They threw shadows across the well-trimmed grass. Her eyes lingered a moment on one of the nearer markers, a stone bench.

Let’s go in, she said.

No Gellene lesson followed. The three teens ate, then watched television. At nine Sarah went home to work on her history paper. At nine-thirty Simone was in the kitchen washing up the few dishes they had dirtied. Clay was away in his room practicing his hobby of lock-picking, which he had learned from an uncle.

In the window over the sink, Simone saw only her own reflection. The night was still except for the dull humming of the florescent light above her. She scrubbed out a casserole dish and thought about her troubles: chiefly, that another girl from her high school had won the attention of Carl Besanto. Simone’s rival Dawn Carter was petite, shapely, and pretty. Twice now Carl had dated Dawn. He had almost asked out Simone once—or so she thought. Simone had never been on a real date.

She pulled the plug to begin the slow draining process and wiped her hands with a towel. Through the open door to the porch she could hear a scratching sound. Something was scratching at the door, which was odd because the family kept no pet. Simone stepped out to the porch and listened. Then she flinched as again something scratched urgently at the door. She began to regret that she had not replaced the burned out bulb in the overhead porch light. The screen door was closed but unlatched, and all was blackness beyond the screen.

Go away, she said in a fierce whisper, half afraid that Clay would hear and tease her about her fear. She stepped close, her hand on the knob now, and tried to see if some animal was on the outer step. Suddenly someone spoke, raspily.

Is that you, Simone?

Simone began to tremble. She knew at once who it was, but could not bring herself to answer. Strangely, she felt that if she acknowledged this voice, she would become defenseless, would shrink back into her childhood, to times after her parents’ divorce when nothing at all had stood between her and a bottomless anguish.

I can see someone there, the voice continued. "Is it you, dearest? You haven’t forgotten me, have you? Dal angfetal Kreenspam be?"

Simone dropped to her knees with the door still between them. Yes, I remember Kreenspam, she sighed. But I never thought you would come back.

Somewhat later Simone and Clay sat on the shabby, flowered couch in the living room, a slight depression on the cushion between them marking where Raspberry crouched on her haunches. She spoke to them in Kreenspam.

Your Kreenspam and your Gellene are far better than I had dared to hope, she said. Let’s speak only in your adopted languages this evening, Kreenspam first.

I wouldn’t have kept up with it, said Clay with a self-conscious grin, if Simone hadn’t hounded me. She’s always making me talk in one or the other, and bringing up new vocabulary. I’m still not nearly as good as she is. She writes poetry in Kreenspam and keeps her diary in Gellene.

He’d rather be playing war games or practicing picking locks, said Simone.

Still, Clay, your fluency is astonishing. You both have an accent, of course, but that’s to be expected. Now all we need is to get you back to the Fold with me.

Simone and Clay exchanged glances. Where is that? Simone said timidly. And—why have you been gone so long?

Raspberry hesitated. Yes, now is the time for explanations. But I’m afraid, you see, afraid that no amount of explanation will persuade you to come with me; though the need is great and almost desperate. They heard her claws clack together. And I must be brief. We have to leave tonight and as soon as possible. I may have been followed, you see.

Followed? said Simone. By other Fijats?

Raspberry sighed and paused. No, but by other beings, large and cunning, and able to follow my trail by scent. By Ulrigs.

He-hurters, Simone translated thoughtfully. And the dictionary you gave us said something about wolf-folk. She shifted uneasily. If they can track you by smell, they must be really wolfish.

Yes, yes, but we haven’t time for explanations about them. They won’t try to come here anyway if they keep their promise. No, tonight you must be content with the broadest outline of what awaits you in the Fold. Then you’ll make your decision. So I’ll begin by saying that the surface of the earth is not all mapped and explored by you humans, as you think. A very large area exists that cannot be reached by normal travel. This area I speak of is the Fold, a hidden expanse containing a continent and oceans. Once it was a part of the world you know, once long ago. But the Flood came and twisted and broke things, broke not just the land but the very nature of space on the surface of this planet; so that my continent was folded away, you might say, unharmed but hidden. Ulrumman himself hid the Fold, but let it live. Now it can only be reached by a few paths, and they are awesomely guarded. I speak of the Six Doors of Kulismos, by which a very few have passed back and forth.

And one is in the Mediterranean, you once told me, said Simone.

Yes, but since I last saw you, we Fijats have learned of another, and just this evening I entered this world by it. One might account it one of the greatest coincidences in history that this Door is only a few miles from your home. But I am convinced that it’s more than coincidence. Other Beings, Messengers of Ulrumman, may well have guided your ancestors toward this spot long ago. But to return to my tale, Ulrumman peopled the Fold with intelligent creatures of his own making, the Ten Species of the Sarrs, of which the Fijats are one.

And Ulrigs are another? asked Clay.

Yes, they are Sarrs too. And now I must pass over the history of twenty-seven hundred years during which we of the Narvash, we Fold-dwellers, lived to ourselves. Then in the third century A.D., as you reckon time, humans came to us. A great man named Quintus brought them through one of the Sea Doors, and they stayed and multiplied.

I knew it! said Clay. They were Greeks, weren’t they? Because Gellene is like Greek.

You guessed rightly. They spoke Greek, and so now all the humans of the Fold speak Gellene, which is derived from the ancient Greek. All the Narvans, our ten species, speak Kreenspam. So with command of these two languages, you and Simone may go anywhere in the Fold and be understood by both human and Sarr.

What does this have to do with our family? Simone asked. You told me once that you Fijats have been watching our family for twenty-three generations.

More than five-hundred years ago, one human left the Fold, never to return, Raspberry said. "And she was no commoner. She was, by right, the lawful heir to all the Kingdoms of the Fold. She came away through a Sea Door, secretly, fleeing her enemies, and journeyed to England. That was the Princess Lila.

All these centuries we Fijats have been passing that same Door to watch and protect Lila’s descendants, the True Line. Being invisible, we have not been noticed, or have been taken for ghosts. We have recorded the true genealogy, watching the inheritance of an empire pass from father to son, and sometimes daughter; watching as they forgot their own royalty; watching as they moved to North America, to Virginia, and then to Kentucky, and then to Indiana.

I can see what’s coming, Simone said tightly.

Yes, twenty-eight years ago, when my friend Zatel came here to Viola, the rightful Emperor was your maternal grandfather Harry Tanner. But when I came six years ago he had died. Your mother was —

Was the Empress? Clay interrupted excitedly.

No, the Queen Mother. For she had had a son, and he then was the rightful Emperor.

Oh, said Clay in a small voice.

And his sister a princess.

Raspberry gave them time to think it over. Now I cannot in a minute explain all the politics of the Fold, but kingdoms are making war there, Sarr against human. And though the war is not yet widespread, it threatens to be so. Children, millions of people are in danger. Someone is needed to make peace. Many, both human and Sarr, would welcome the return of the True Line, now before it’s too late, before devastations are committed by the Dragons of Dragonland.

Both teens raised their eyebrows at the mention of dragons.

The Emperor might command enough respect from both sides to make peace. If you will come, you may well save hundreds of thousands from horrors and death. I appeal to you, I beg you! Come now and save your fellow humans’ lives.

Neither teen responded.

I must add in fairness, said Raspberry, that you will be in danger, and that your best efforts might not be enough to save the threatened lands. Still Simone and Clay said nothing. Raspberry added miserably, And I can give you no assurance as to when, or whether, you’ll return.

For a minute Simone was guilt stricken, for she knew that they would not go. They could not abandon their mother, their schooling, even their own world. Then she had a thought and her eyes narrowed.

So that’s why you took so much time with us six years ago. You needed heroes to come save your Fold. Looks to me like you tried to take advantage of us when we were young and impressionable. You didn’t say a word then about danger or about not coming back. What manipulation!

It’s true I said nothing specific, but that was because I still hoped then that it would not be necessary for you to come at all, said Raspberry. But I said a great deal to you about self-sacrifice and about living for others. I taught you that the person who is challenged to suffer for others, when declining, is not innocent. Even now I firmly believe that I’m offering not just what is best for the Fold but what is best for you as well.

So said the carpenter to the nail, Simone muttered.

But Simone, you at least need not come. Only Clay is absolutely needed. Though you would have been a help to him.

When Simone looked at Clay, his eyes had lost their usual peaceful expression. She read something perilous in them.

Is there any technology in the Fold? he asked. Any scientific secrets that I could bring back?

None at all, said Raspberry. Technologically, we are far behind you. We’re in what you would call the Dark Ages. I can offer you nothing but the satisfaction of trying to do good.

Clay hesitated.

I won’t let you go, Simone said to him.

Suddenly Raspberry stirred. I hear someone running away from the house, she announced. She scurried to the floor. Quickly, Simone, let me out the back door so I can investigate.

Simone and Clay followed the sound of the Fijat’s feet to the back porch. Simone paused with her hand on the knob. But if it’s Ulrigs—

No, this was a human, said Raspberry impatiently. Ulrig footfalls sound completely different. Hurry.

Simone opened the door and Raspberry shot out. Then the teens waited, whispering to each other. As the minutes lengthened, Simone tried not to care whether Raspberry came back. Why should it matter what might happen to her old tutor? She had buried her love for Raspberry long ago.

More minutes passed until, at last, Clay went to a kitchen drawer and rummaged for a flashlight. I’m gonna go out and—

No, you won’t! You’re staying right here. I—

Simone paused. Someone was walking across the backyard. Before they had a chance to react, there was a knock at the door. From the kitchen Clay shined a flashlight beam past Simone and through the screen door, revealing a young man, outlandishly dressed.

Hi! the man said and smiled.

Who are you? What are you doing here? Simone asked.

The stranger looked puzzled. I want, he began, and the teens started, for he spoke in Gellene, I want to come in and talk to you. I’m just a passing stranger who needs directions.

Anywhere away from here! Simone said, and she reached out to latch the door. Too quick for her, he caught the knob and pulled it open. She heard the ringing of metal against metal, saw a reflected flash, and found a sword tip threatening her middle. She made a strangled sound and backed up as the man entered.

Icky, come! he shouted over his shoulder, and at once another man ran across the yard and entered behind him, sword in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.

In a few moments the intruders tied Clay and Simone’s hands behind their backs and placed them on kitchen chairs, where they sat gasping and wide-eyed. In the kitchen light, the two men appeared to be from another world indeed. Their clothing was baggy, flowing, and entirely black except for a touch of crimson at the collar. The taller of the two, who had entered first, wore in addition a silver medallion and a large hat that reminded Simone of a Revolutionary tri-corner, though with a higher peak.

He was sharp-eyed and handsome with thick, dark eyebrows that came together when he smiled. The shorter, broader man whom he had called Icky was also young but with an ugly, drooping face, sensuous and disagreeable. Their drawn swords, she noticed, were not manufactured but smith-wrought with all the imperfections of a pre-machine age.

The taller man waved a free hand at Icky. Search the rest of the house. Icky left the room, peering about with wide eyes at the unexplained paraphernalia of an American home. Soon they heard him stomping and clattering about, upstairs and downstairs.

He returned. Nobody else here, Ven.

Right. Then keep a watch at the windows.

I can’t see out with all these little fires. They’re burning little fires in glass eggs all over the house. Ven ignored this, possibly because he was as mystified as Icky by the light bulbs. He put his sword tip to Clay’s throat. Where is the Emperor?

Clay grew pale and said nothing. Ven drew back his sword as if to lop Clay’s head off. So I kill you and ask her?

No wait! Simone cried in Gellene. He’s the Emperor. Don’t kill him, he’s your Emperor.

Ven lowered his sword and looked them over suspiciously. Dressed like a clown? Living in a ruin?

Maybe we came to the wrong house, said Icky.

But the Fijata was here! Ven slammed his sword against the kitchen table in frustration. And who are you?

His sister, Simone said weakly. He approached her and pulled her head back by the hair. A princess? Where’s your court, your palace?

We aren’t royalty here! said Clay. Here we’re just—just—

Commoners, Simone supplied.

Yeah, and we didn’t know we were royalty until tonight when Raspberry told us.

Ven released Simone and turned back to Clay. The Misara Razabera will never be able to confirm that. Not that I would believe her anyway. He looked to Icky. What do you think?

It could be, Magus. All the centuries since cursed Lila came here—even royal families can decline, get poor. I say sacrifice them now, in the cemetery, and see how the stinking emperor-lovers react back home. If those Forest folk get all sick and teary faced, we’ll know we drank blue blood.

Right. Ven took a moment to scout out the back door and returned. The way’s clear. Convenient they’re so far from other houses. He stooped and picked up Clay’s fallen flashlight. This’ll be our proof for the Hag. It has one of the fire-eggs in it. He turned to Clay. How do you light it?

Just push the button. Yeah, that’s it, Clay answered. Then push it again to—

Yes, enough. Ven stuffed the light into his rope belt. Now, on your feet and out the door. Icky, stay behind the girl, hand on her shoulder. If she tries to run, stab her through.

Clay and Simone were forced out into the backyard, through the gap in the fence, and across the cemetery lawn. Their way was very dark, lit only by a few far off streetlights along the highway. The cars sped past, but no shout could reach them, even if a shout had been safe. Simone shuffled between dim gray headstones, her head spinning, trying not to believe that the one called Icky had said they would be sacrificed. From time to time a sword tip pricked her back.

She forced herself to speak. Why? she asked. Why kill us?

Icky answered, Shut your mouth. You’re wanted dead by Higher Powers, that’s enough.

But—but Raspberry, I mean Razabera, said we could prevent a war and thousands being killed.

That’s her line, is it? Icky grunted and added nothing.

They came to one of the more prominent monuments, a sort of little temple made all of white stone and with a low roof supported by six pillars. It was set on thick, triple foundations, and the sides were open. Simone and Clay were driven up under the roof where Ven and Icky used more rope to tie them down on their backs side by side, making loops around the pillars.

Simone and Clay had been there before. Growing up at Cemetery House, they had played on all the monuments, knew every name inscribed on them. Simone felt as if she were being sacrificed on her cradle.

Clay began to cry brokenly. Simone, just a year older, tried desperately to think, to keep a clear head, while Icky produced what seemed to be a piece of chalk and began marking an elongated circle around her and Clay. Meanwhile, Ven brought out candles from his jerkin and lit them with a device Simone could not see. He dripped a bit of wax just in line with Simone’s head and used it to stick the candle in place. Then he did the same with Clay. The tall sticks lit the teens’ frightened faces and heaving chests. Beside each candle Ven placed a small cup.

Icky had finished his circle. We’ll have to use their own blood for the sprinkling, he said in a casual, workmanlike tone. How shall I draw it?

Simone spoke out in as firm a tone as she could manage. We’re the rightful rulers of everybody in your world. The Misara Razabera said so. So if you kill us, you’re killing your own sovereigns. Do you think Thoz doesn’t see? Can you bear that much guilt? Your Emperor’s blood on your hands?

To her surprise, Ven’s dark brow furrowed. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. Shut up. We’ve got a god on our side, the highest. We’re protected in all we do.

A god? Who? Simone mentally scrambled for the Gellene word for Satan. Fowroz?

Shut up! Ven produced a silver knife and held it to Simone’s throat. She looked him in the eye and with her last bit of courage held her voice steady.

Fowroz is going to the Pit and so are you.

To her astonishment, Ven backed off cursing. As he did, she suddenly became aware that Clay was brokenly reciting scraps of a Psalm. Since he spoke in English, only Simone understood.

Ven! Ven Magus! Icky whispered intensely. There’s something out here. I hear something over there among the tombstones.

Just some animal, said Ven. He was breathing deeply and perspiring. Start the chant.

But we haven’t sprinkled the blood yet.

"Hadris! Cut the boy’s ear off."

Icky had slipped his sword into its sheath while tying and chalking. Now he drew it with a rattle. He paused and said, By the dark power of evil I take your blood. Fowroz protect me! He leaned forward, blade in hand.

Suddenly, there burst forth from all around them an otherworldly howling, as if all the banshees in Hell were upon them. Captives and captors alike were thrilled with horror. Icky dropped his sword. Ven stumbled back off the monument, trying to draw his. The teens writhed on the stone. Then dark, snarling figures leaped from the shadows.

Simone saw a tall but inhuman figure, some great animal, dart forward with a blade in what passed for its hand. Running upright like a man, it thrust the sword into Ven’s back. A split second later another did the same. Icky came stumbling over Clay and Simone and fell down onto the other side of the monument, rolling near Ven. Then two of the howling creatures brushed over them in pursuit, and he was stabbed from all sides.

Simone turned her head and closed her eyes, but she could not help but hear the animals’ blades hacking at the fallen men’s bodies. She heard a gurgling and gasping and knew that the men were not yet dead. She wanted to die herself, so as not to hear them. The horrible sounds went on and on.

At last all was silent. She opened her eyes and saw nothing beyond the candlelight; nothing until a great wolf face, blood spattered, appeared over the stone ledge beside her. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came.

The thing spoke in Kreenspam. Calm now. All is well. The witches are dead.

She blubbered some reply.

We’ve come to help you. I am Snag, a captain of the Ulrigs of the Middle Range.

Snag and the other Ulrigs cut their bonds with bloody swords, and the two stood shakily, leaning on each other and shuddering. Dimly in the light of the candles they saw four Ulrigs standing somewhat below them on the steps, all of them lean and tall, their eyes like faintly lighted lamps.

Snag stepped in front of Clay. Are you, he asked, the Great Sisskame, son of Susan, descendant of Lila, descendant of Quintus who is called the Sisska?

Clay answered through tears. I don’t know. Raspberry said I was the descendant of Lila. She said I’m some kind of emperor.

Snag bowed his ugly head slightly toward Simone. And this your sister?

Yes, this is Simone.

Then she also is a Sisskame, and a great Princess. Suddenly Snag prostrated himself and the other Ulrigs did the same. Emperor, Snag said, we come to you as loyal subjects to bring you to your throne.

Simone saw that Clay was at a loss. Nothing in his seventeen years had prepared him for the events of this night. Nothing, that is, but Raspberry’s brief tutelage. And where was Raspberry? She remembered that Ven had said the Fijata would never be able to confirm something Clay had said.

Excuse me, she said to the kneeling monsters, but where is Raspberry, I mean the Misara Razabera?

The Ulrig Captain looked to his second. Snart?

There was a fight, Captain, just as you came up from the west side of the house. Small creatures over there in the shadow of the fence.

Simone started off, dragging Clay with her, the Ulrigs reluctantly following, and soon they came to the place Snart identified as the scene of the fight. Here tree limbs overhung the deep darkness of the fence row. Simone plunged alone into these shadows, calling for Raspberry. She paused to listen, and in a moment she heard the familiar raspy voice, but diminished and distorted, gasping. She crawled on, feeling ahead of her, following the voice, until her hands touched the small furry body. Something was wrong. The fur was damp and sticky. Simone became very still inside.

Raspberry, are you bleeding?

Yes, yes, the Fijata said, but no time for that. Dark magi are here. I recognized one by his hat. Magi, Simone. Oh, what do you call them? Witches. You must get away. Don’t trust them.

Shhh. A few cold teardrops fell from Simone’s eyes, but she was astonishingly steady. They’re dead. Some Ulrigs killed them. Now tell me where you’re hurt. We’re going to help you.

Past helping, Raspberry muttered. I’m torn open. The Magus released a winged thing, something bred in the Forest Obscure, in the Vulture’s land. It’s a robalt, a familiar dark and deadly. I think I may have killed it. It’s lying by here somewhere, I know. I could hear it at first when it was moving a bit, but it seems to have stopped.

Let’s see how bad you really are, Simone said. She had pulled her hands back, fearing to touch Raspberry’s wound. Now she forced herself to touch the Fijata and soon felt the horrible gash. Her heart pounded in her ears and she felt dizzy.

Raspberry moaned, No, Simone, give it up. You need my counsel while I can still speak. These Ulrigs are promise breakers; they were not to come here. But it’s turned out well that they did. None of us Sarrs knew that witches were following. But you must see, girl, that if the Magi can come once, they can come again. Somehow they know about the Door in Crow Wood. So it’s no longer a question of choice, my dearest. If you stay here in Viola, the witches will kill you, kill Clay, your mother—

No, not mother! We have to get away. They musn’t come here again. Let them follow us somewhere else. Anywhere.

Yes, to the Fold. Go with these Ulrigs. They are not good, not noble, but they will not harm you. They revere you as Sisskames. Go to the Fold and—no glory for yourself. Save lives. Pity the people. Take nothing for yourself. Go and—behave nobly, Misara Simone.

No, Raspberry, don’t call me noble.

You must be and so must Clay. Is he here? At the Door—at the Door—don’t believe what he says—

Simone was distracted by a light behind her. She looked back and saw that Clay had brought another flashlight from the car. He came near and shined it on the place where Raspberry was. Simone started, for of course nothing appeared at all, only flattened grass where the invisible creature lay. Though wet with blood, Simone’s hands appeared clean.

Clay moved the beam to search about closer to the fence. In a moment he found something there, something black and hairless. Simone screamed in horror but could not look away. The thing was like a gigantic bat with hard, sharp claws and wings two feet long. It’s open mouth showed fangs. But it was dead: the tiny eyes stared dull and its throat was torn and bloody.

What is it? Clay asked, stepping back.

A Fijat-killer, Snag supplied, for he had joined them. Even invisible enemies can’t escape them, for they track by sound. The Magi brought this thing here to kill the Misara Razabera.

But she’s not dead! insisted Simone, reaching out to Raspberry again. She’s—Raspberry?

The Fijata was no longer breathing.

Chapter 2 Tsawb

Back in the kitchen Simone sat down and collapsed over the table. Clay leaned on the sink counter, staring at his chafed wrists. They heard Snag issue a few orders before he followed them in. The Ulrig paused to look over the incomprehensible interior—the appliances, sink, lights—then dismissing them with a wave of his paw, addressed the teens.

Revered Sisskames, my soldiers are burying the Lady Razabera, and also the thing that killed her. Not that we care about it, but it is best not to leave anything that will arouse suspicion and perhaps lead humans to the Crow Door. However, the men’s bodies are too big for us to bury inconspicuously. I see you have one of the magic carriages here, such as we’ve seen on the roads. Couldn’t we all ride to the Door in it? And these men corpses we could take with us and hide somewhere along the way.

Simone looked at Clay. Raspberry said we should go with them. She said if we don’t more witches will come, and they’ll kill us and kill Mom.

Yes, come, Snag said. It’s only a short distance from the other side of the Door to our Ulrig Caves in the Middle Range. Once there, no one can harm you. No enemy has ever conquered our caves.

Where is the Door? Clay asked.

It’s in a great cave just a few miles southward.

Mullins cave?

Yes, Mullins is the word written on sign boards all around. I can read the Latin letters. Now if you’ll show us how to open the back of your carriage, we can put the men corpses within.

Couldn’t we just call the police? Clay asked.

Police? said Snag, questioning the unfamiliar word. The government? No, no, they’d not believe you unless you took them through the Door itself, and that you musn’t do. Besides, who knows if your local authorities could really protect you from the witches? Magi have been known to pass invisibly through any defense. These tonight came visibly, but who knows about next time?

But it’s our mother, you see, Simone said. She won’t be back till late. If there are more witches, and if we’re not here to at least warn her—

They don’t want her, they want the Emperor Clay, said the wolf-captain. By coming to the Fold, you’ll draw them away from her. The Emperor’s enemies won’t think about the Queen Mother unless the Emperor himself were to die, and we Ulrigs pledge to prevent that.

Simone stood and looked at Clay. We can’t let Mom die, she said wispily and in English. I’m packing a few things.

I’ll get my lock picks, he answered. That gate at the cave has a padlock on it.

In a few minutes both teens had packed tote bags and stowed them in the old Dart. Snag’s squad had already brought the witches’ bodies to the back yard. Clay opened the trunk and spread a plastic sheet within, and the Ulrigs dumped in the bodies, adding the men’s swords, candles, cups, and a metal cage that had held the Fijat-killer.

It was arranged that Simone and Clay sit in front while all four Ulrigs crowded into the back seat and crouched down. Simone turned the key, hoping that, if the oil pressure was as bad as the gauge said, the engine might still last for the few miles to the cave. As they pulled onto the highway, rain began. Clay pointed to the drops on the windshield.

This’ll wash away the bloodstains back there on the grass, he said quietly to Simone.

On a dark part of the road Snag had them stop. He and his soldiers dumped Ven and Icky with all their things and the plastic sheet into a ditch a little distance from the road. They drove on and in a few minutes parked before the tall chain length fence before the entrance to Mullins Cave. The highway behind them was deserted, and no house was in sight, but the area was uncomfortably well lit.

Clay went straight for the gate’s padlock. He took off his belt and carefully removed one of the picks kept hidden in it. With an expression of perfect concentration he inserted the pick and began to feel around.

No, no, please, Your Eminence, Snart said to him. When we came through the Door we found ladders leaned against the fence. See, over here away from the light—ladders on both sides.

Clay followed them and saw the ladders. You just found them like this?

Yes, Emperor.

But why would they—?

The witches, Your Eminence, said Snag. Their scent is on the rungs. They came from the cave ahead of us Ulrigs, found the ladders in this enclosure, and used them to climb out. They were three, one of them a woman. She went out with the other two but hasn’t come back.

Clay looked to Simone.

Well, will she try to kill our mother? Simone asked.

I think not, Princess Simone. As I’ve said, they want the Emperor. She was probably left to watch the Door, and if so, will be watching us now from some hiding place beyond these lights. After we’ve passed the Door, she’ll follow.

Simone hesitated. We should have left Mom a note, to warn her.

She wouldn’t have believed it, Sim, Clay said. You know how Mom is. Try to tell her about witches and Ulrigs and other worlds?

Simone laughed miserably. You’re right. We’ll just have to go on and try to lure them away from her.

With some difficulty all six got inside the fence, leaving the ladders in place so the remaining witch might follow. Simone and Clay had both brought flashlights and now flicked them on as the Ulrigs led them within the cave. This was one of those great, tangled cave systems found in southern Indiana that have been adapted for tourists. They walked on elevated wooden ramps, occasionally descending a few stairs. The temperature dropped twenty-five degrees. The teens had never been in Mullins with so little light, and each formation lit by their puny flashlights stood out weird and almost threatening.

Simone shivered in her t-shirt. How far back is this Door? she asked.

Not far, Sisskame, replied Snag. but we must leave this walkway soon. Here, now we smell the way; it’s here that we climbed up. He sprang off to the rocky floor of the cave, and as the others followed, slowly led them over obstacles to the edge of the great cavern, a distance of no more than thirty yards. They gathered by a pit in the floor into which Snag directed Clay to shine his flashlight beam. Here was a small opening, easily overlooked. It might have been, and looked like, just another shallow niche like thousands of others in the cave.

This is the way to the Door, your Eminence.

Snag clambered down and struggled through this hole, and one by one the others did the same. Simone slid through with an Ulrig ahead of her and another—bearing her tote bag—behind. To her relief they only had to worm through for a few yards before the passage widened, and after ten more yards they could stand.

The room in which they arrived was small, no bigger than the Gareth’s kitchen, the floor smooth for a cave passage, and the walls almost devoid of formations. Simone had little time to notice these things, however, for her attention was focused on the wall opposite their entrance point. This appeared perfectly flat and black, as flat and black as if someone had stretched a black sheet there. She trained her flashlight on it and found that it was unsolid. The beam extended a little way past it, as if penetrating dense smoke. Clay did the same with his light.

This is the Door, Snag said. Don’t be afraid. We came through safely from the other side.

Simone extended her hand tentatively and indeed found that her fingers passed into the sheet without harm. It seems OK, she said to Clay in English.

What’s it made of? Clay asked Snag.

Nothing, Sisskame. Who knows? Snag appeared agitated, but spoke ingratiatingly. Very old. Formed, they say, by Ulrumman when the Fold was made. Naturally, such Doors have guards. We have already talked with the guard of this Door, when we came. He is friendly, but—he is not expecting you and the Princess. We will have some explaining to do.

Why are you only just now telling us about a guard? Simone demanded. This was supposed to be easy and safe. Who is this guard?

Snag hesitated. His name is Tsawb.

OK, so what is he? Is he an Ulrig or a Fijat or what?

No, no, nothing like that, Sisskame. He is—

What?

The Great Turtle, Snart supplied. He is ancient, proud.

Silence, ordered Snag. My lady, we will talk with him. We have talked with him before. Don’t be afraid. You see that he has not harmed us.

Let’s go on, said Clay, who was