The little girl looked up with a malicious grin. “Good job, boys,” she said. “Bring him here so I can look at him.” Two of the men grabbed me roughly and dragged me to where the girl stood. She looked me up and down and sighed. “Oh well, I knew we weren’t going to have easy pickings this far away from a town. No purse on this one. Grab his boots.”
One of the rascals pushed me down, removed my boots and shook out the coins. “Two pennies,” he said holding them up.
I had been waylaid by bandits! I scanned the trees, hoping that Rocko was nearby and would swing down from the trees and lay some monkey-fu on these robbers. I saw nothing. Acid flooded my stomach as I realized that these ruffians had no reason whatsoever to let me go – or let me live. I drew in a deep breath to scream for help. One of the men with a sword pointed it directly at my throat and shook his head. “He’s only worth two pennies,” he said. “We might as well have a little fun with him, eh?”
“Wait,” said the girl. “Not yet. Stand him up.” One of the men held a rusty – bit dangerous-looking – sword. He yanked me roughly to me feet. The girl walked over until we were toe to toe and she looked me up and down. Up close, she was clearly much older than she had initially appeared – late teens or early twenties. She was slight, skinny and waify – which made her look like she was still a few years from adolescence.
And I knew her from somewhere.
I couldn’t say for sure, but I had seen her – and it wasn’t here in the Land of Tucky-Wucky, or whatever this place was called. I had met her before.
She looked me straight in the eye for a long time, then shook her head. She turned to her companions, who had lined up behind her. “Go ahead, boys. Have your fun and we’ll move up in the hills by the logging camps. It’s almost payday – they should be drunk and flush. Easy pickings. Do what you want with this one, but don’t take too long.”
The men swarmed around her; weapons raised. I should have been terrified, but my mind was totally absorbed trying to remember where I knew her and how. Then it hit me. “Missy McSween!” I blurted.
She froze. “What?” she said. “Where did you hear that name?” Around her, the armed knuckleheads growled and raised their weapons. “No, you assholes, stop. This one is … special. Somehow.”
Seeing I was on a roll in not getting killed, I nervously continued, “I heard that name in the year 1984, I think, which was last week but was also fifty years ago, although it’s probably about 500 years in the future here.”
The band of bandits exchanged puzzled looks. The girl eyed me intently.
“Yeah, this would have been in Weaverville,” I continued. “What you call Whipgate. Yeah, the McSweens lived in a bunch of mobile homes and RVs down by the tire factory. I guess you grew up in a bunch of huts by a tannery or something. You’ve got a Gran who understands all the weird shit about fairies and spirits and stuff.”
The Missy-clone continued to stare me down. The lunkheads exchanged worried glances and muttered. They seemed nervous – not a good sign.
My mouth continued sprinting. “Yeah, so the Chinese doctor sent me backwards in time like 35 years, and I woke up in my 13-year-old body. It was absolutely crazy but Missy McSween was the only one who believed me. She said her Gran had taught her that there were more things under heaven that we realize. She quoted Shakespeare to me! At the mall! Can you believe it?”
The largest guy, a huge lout with a mop of dark hair and a long, pointed knife said, “He’s crazy. Let’s kill’im!”
“No, Rin!” said the girl. “None of you touch him! Remember what Nana says about crazy people: they speak directly with God!”
The five lugs muttered and took a step away from me. I had to suppress the urge to press my advantage by spouting too much more nonsense. I said, “So are you Missy McSween? Or at least this world’s version of her?”
The girl looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “My name is Misa Malveen,” she said. “These are my brothers Rin, Tal, Kiy, Dunbarton and Pat.” Each brother mumbled a greeting as he was introduced. One of them – Pat, I think – actually tugged his forelock.
“What is your name, stranger?” asked Misa.
“My name is Scott Gray.” Also known as the Traveler, I thought.
“And this Missy McSween you speak of,” said Misa. “What does she look like?”
I took a hard look at her. She had the same blue eyes and mouse-brown hair. Same elf-face, with high cheekbones and pointed chin. But she looked older. There were faintest hint of lines at the corner of those eyes. And they just looked sadder, as if they had seen too much, too soon.
“Missy looks just like you,” I said. “Just not as … experienced. Younger. Maybe her hair is a shade darker, and her nose a little rounder. Otherwise, a dead ringer.”
She nodded, as if expecting this. “Yes,” she said. “We really need to talk. But not here. Things aren’t safe here, it seems.”
“Cor,” said Rin, brandishing his sword. “Thar’s many of the Duke’s men out an’ aboot today. We shoulda stayed closer to home.”
“Well, we should get back to the barracks,” said Misa. She gave me a sharp look. “Here, those men of Noe are out looking for you, are they not?”
I saw no point in trying to deny it. “Yes, they’re looking for me.”
“Har!” said one of the others – I think it might have been Dunbarton. “We turn this’un in, maybe we get a reward, uh, Misa?” Maybe there was a point in trying to deny it. Too late now.
“Do not be an idiot, Dunbarton,” said Misa. “We try turning him in, they will take all of us in. Use your loaf!”
Dunbarton looked sheepish and I gave an inward sigh of relief. “The hour grows late,” said Misa. “We must get moving while there is still light if we want to reach the barracks before nightfall.”
“Look, I’m really hungry,” I said. “We’re close to Cassab, right? Can we just sort of slide by there so I can get something to eat. I haven’t eaten in what seems like days.”
Misa and her brothers looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Oh, no, Scott,” she said. “If we show our faces in Cassab, they will string us up faster than Duke Noe’s men would. We have provisions at the barracks.”
At the mention of provisions, my stomach rumbled loudly. Misa laughed. “Look here, Tal, you have some hardtack on you, do you not? Give Scott Gray a piece or three.”
“But I was going to eat that,” grumbled Tal, who was almost as tall as Rin and definitely heavier.
“Come now,” said Misa, whapping Tal on his ample belly. “It will not hurt you to miss a snack.”
Grumbling, Tal dug into his haversack and produced two flat squares of what looked like very dense crackers, and handed them over to me. It didn’t look like much, but it was definitely food, and I chomped on it.
Then I hollered. The hardtack lived up to its name – it was quite hard, and it felt like I had chipped a molar. The Malveen boys laughed, but Misa looked concerned. “Sorry,” she said. “I should have warned you. You might want to suck on it a little first to soften it up. Now let’s go.” I may have imagined it, but it seemed like she put a particular emphasis on suck on it. I didn’t care – I was too hungry. I gummed the hardtack until I could chew it without losing a filling.
“Okay, boyos, let us go now!” commanded Misa. “Kiy, you take point – go out about thirty yards.” Kiy, who was the one who had a sword, nodded and stepped off into the brush. Misa continued issuing instructions. “Pat, you go next. I will be right behind. Scott Gray, you stick close to me. Tal and Dunbarton, behind our guest – and no funny stuff! Rin, hang back and take drogue. Again, about thirty yards. Hup ho!”
She clapped her hands, and the entire crew took off at a trot. I soon got winded trying to keep up with her, and a few times, Tal – who was right behind me – prodded me between the shoulders with his club. I jogged to keep up while continuing to munch on the hardtack.
We kept up this pace for nearly an hour, trotting through the trees, jumping over streams and scrambling up and down hills. There was no discernable path, but everyone seemed to know exactly which way to go.
The sun was starting to set behind us when we reached our destination. For the last half hour or so, we had been pushing through denser brush and scrambling up and down steeper hills.
Finally, we pushed through a dense stand of scrub to the base of a cliff. There was a tiny shack butting up to the face of the cliff. It looked ancient and rickety, like a strong breeze would knock it down.
“Ah, here we are,” said Misa. “C’mon, boys – let’s have a quick drink.” This suggestion was met with roars of approval, and the Malveens piled into the little shed. I reluctantly followed.
Inside was just as dirty and cramped as it looked from the outside. The Malveen boys each snatched a wooden mug from pegs on the wall, and lined up behind a large wooden cask in the corner.
“Would you like some ale, Scott?” asked Misa. “I’m afraid it’s not very fresh, though.”
My stomach rumbled. The idea of stale ale wasn’t very objectively enticing, but my gut had other ideas. Anything to fill the stomach and perhaps derive some nutritional value would be much welcomed at this point. “Yes, please,” I said in my politest voice.
“Coming right up,” she said primly. “You are our guest, after all.”
She lowered her shoulder and charged into Dunbarton who was just going to fill his mug. “Get out of the way, you louts!” she said. “We have a guest, and we don’t want him to think we weren’t brought up right. She snatched the mug from Dunbarton’s hand, peered into the recesses, then gave the interior a quick clean with the hem of her dress. Then she topped off the mug, giving it a slight head that would not have looked out of place in any modern beer ad. She handed it to me with a smile.
I thanked her and took a tentative sip. It may have been the lack of food, but it tasted heavenly. If this is what the local ale was like when it was stale, I couldn’t wait to try some when it’s fresh. The Malveen boys went back to filling and draining their mugs. Missy poured one for herself, shouted “Sleena!” and drained her mug in one go.
I continued to sip my ale, enjoying the flavor – strong, but not overpowering. It wasn’t long before my head started to spin. Powerful ale on a very empty stomach, no surprise that it would go straight to my head. I stepped back to the wall of the shack and slid to the dirt floor.
“Are you not well, Scott?” asked Misa.
“Oh, I’m okay,” I said. “It’s just that I haven’t eaten much in a very long time, and the ale kinda got on top of me.”
“Oh, of course,” she said. “We must take care of you.” She spun and said, “Kai, what do we have in the larder?”
There were two freestanding cupboards shoved up against the back wall of the shack. Kai opened one and rummaged around. “Not much, Misa,” he reported. “Just some apples, and they are pretty old.” He brandished out a burlap bag; it didn’t look very full.
“That won’t do,” said Misa. “Time to scare up some victuals, boys. Rin, Tal, Kiy – see what you can do about bagging us some game. Pat and Dunbarton, head east and see what you can glean from the farms out that way. Cabbages should be coming on now. Also take any fiddleheads you come across. Come on, now, boys – while there’s some light left. And Pat, don’t eat half of what you find before you get back!”
Rin, Tal and Kiy retrieved wooden bows and quivers from pegs on the wall. All five piled out the door, not saying much. It had been a long day, and I think that everyone was as tired as I was.
“We should be able to put on a good stew,” said Misa. She went to the cupboard and examined the contents. “Yes, we’ve still got a few herbs and some salt. If they shoot well – and Rin and Kiy usually do – we might have a decent rabbit stew tonight.” The thought set my stomach growling again.
Misa turned and looked me straight in the eye. There was a mischievous twinkle; it made her look very much like Missy McSween. “Scott Gray, the Traveler,” she said. “There are a few things I think we should discuss.”
“If you say so,” I said. “I don’t know how good of a conversationalist I would be. I’ve had a rough couple of days, and that ale has gone to my head.”
“Perhaps we would be better off someplace cooler … and more comfortable,” she said.
“Sounds good to me.” It was pretty warm in the shed, and I was starting to feel headachy.
“I have just the place,” said Misa. She went to the second cupboard. In place of a handle was an odd wooden contraption made of small, square blocks. It looked like half of a Rubik’s cube. Missy fiddled with the blocks, moving them this way and that. Soon there was a loud click, and the door opened. She reached in and pulled out two stubby candles in pewter holders and handed one to me. “We’ll need these in there.”
She produced a match from her dress and lit the candles. “Follow me,” she said, then stepped into the cupboard.
I shrugged. Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any weirder. Why not go to Narnia? I thought. I stepped into the cupboard. I could see Missy’s candle bobbing in the darkness some distance away. How could that be? I took a few more tentative steps forward, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that we were in a sizable stone cavern.