Kathy gasped and sat up, looking down at herself. She was wearing heavy blue woolen garments, of a style she recognized but couldn't believe she was wearing. A swift look around showed her she was in a small and basic 'A' frame canvas tent, sitting atop a pile of hay and blankets. On her right was her gear bag and a black powder rifle, a canteen, and a small wooden music box. She grabbed her gear bag and the rifle, and slipped outside.
Kathy stumbled and fell over the squat footlocker placed just outside of her tent, falling into half-frozen mud. The chill seeped right through her clothes, and as she stood, she spotted Daggeuro and Dimanche standing nearby, also dressed in the blue uniforms of Union soldiers during the American Civil War. She began making her way over to them, until Byron came out of his tent and blundered over his own footlocker, falling right into her path with a curse.
She helped him up, grinning despite the absurdity of their circumstances. "You look good in a uniform," she said, helping brush slushie snow off of his uniform coat.
"This is ridiculous. I sincerely hope we get some kind of hint early on here to get past this stretch," Byron groused. Senta came from a tent in his own blue Union uniform, and he looked awkward in it. His weapons were in hand for only a moment, then tucked away. Vernon was nowhere to be seen.
When Kathy reached Daggeuro and Dimanche, he was mid-sentence. "-thing could happen here. This is entirely unfamiliar to me."
"Dis is a dangerous time and place, if I have de right of it. Especially for me," he added. "A black man in an Union uniform would be quite a trophy if we come upon Confederates."
"So you know this place," Byron asked. Kathy heard something clunking behind her, looked back, and saw Vernon tromping toward them in his armor.
"Not de exact location, but dis is clearly a winter Union encampment, probably on de borders of de two forces." Dimanche's top hat had made the trip, and his feet were covered with cracked leather boots. "What our goal here is, I have no clue. But it seems our previous t'eory is correct insofar as our cyclopean friend is concerned."
"This is both curious and troubling," Vernon said. "If it should come to pass that one of these alterations is required to survive an environ, I could be on the mountain without rope." Kathy mentally translated- up the creek without a paddle. "As it stands, this has the look of a military camp. I could be in danger by not fitting in."
Without the need to converse further, everybody started checking footlockers for another uniform, one that could fit over Vernon's armor. Ultimately, they discovered one in Daggeuro's footlocker that barely fit over the cyclops's protective gear. He just finished dressing when a human officer, twin bars on his lapel patch, came storming over toward them. Kathy looked to everyone's left arm and shoved Senta gently forward, since his was the only one bearing stripes.
The human did not balk at the sight of them. He simply stepped up to Senta and said, "Sergeant? Where are the rest of your men? They should be up and digging new trenches by now." The gotrin stammered, trying to offer a reply. The captain flapped a hand at him. "No excuses, man! Just get them up and get it done!"
"Yes, sir," Senta croaked. The captain tromped away through the slush, slipping but staying upright. Senta looked to the others, shrugged his shoulders, and began going from tent to tent, ordering the human in the unit to get up and get to digging a new trench.
"Oh boy," said Byron. Kathy gave him a raised eyebrow. He tapped the patch sewn onto the cuff of his uniform coat. It was two crossed flags, one white and one red. "I know this patch. We're Signal Corps."
"Is that signifcant," Daggeuro asked.
"We're communications," Dimance replied. "Effectively, if a battle were to be engaged, de enemy will concentrate cannon fire at us first, to disrupt battlefield messages."
"We're boned if there's a big fight on the way, in short," Kathy said. "We need to figure out what to do, where to start. With Oz, we had a familiar basis to work off of. Dimanche, you seem to know about the Civil War. Anything around here ringing any bells?" The voodoo spirit was about to reply when his jaw dropped at the sight of something behind Kathy.
Everyone fixed their attention to the middle distance in what Kathy assumed was south, and she felt the scrambling paws of her sanity seeking refuge within her own mind. Even Senta and the soldiers he'd gathered from their tents were staring. Floating through the sky on a slab of black stone was a grand, Gothic-style cathedral, rendered in brilliant white marble.
"I don't remember this from U.S. History class," Kathy managed to say. The cathedral floated by, reversing direction, heading back south and up higher into the skies.
"What in the name of God was that," said the unit captain behind them. Kathy turned about, saw the look of abject terror on the man's face, and wondered what he saw when he looked at the faerie men of her company. Did they look human to him through some illusion buffer? Did she look like a man, for that matter? The captain croaked, "Sergeant!" Senta dashed over to him, turned his head aside to listen closely as the captain whispered rapidly to him. The gotrin nodded and saluted as the human ran off.
"Well," she asked.
"Captain's given to us the task of going and tracking down that cathedral," Senta said. "Could be that's our test here. I'd guess we just grab our gear and go, so long as our own tents are within." Everybody checked their bags, in which they still had their gear. "Commander?"
"I concur with your estimate," Daggeuro said. "Be on alert for whoever is our enemy here."
"Gray coats," Byron said. "Confederates. I'd think we should minimize casualties, in case we might affect history or something. You never know with Quoth."
"Agreed. Subdue where possible, kill only if need be. Let's go." So they formed up into a wedge again, Daggeuro leading. They waited until they'd left the Union camp half a mile behind them before drawing weapons, at which point Kathy tested her magic by moving some of the sloppy mud about on either side of them. Frozen as it was, she was forced to use more magic than she would have liked to do so, but the test told her what she needed to know- they had their magic for use.
Skirls of snow drift swirled about, capering goblins of white powder gleefully obscuring their vision as they marched south across flat white fields. They were almost upon the woods when the winds died down, revealing a thicket before them. The woods stretched several miles east and west, but all of them could hear voices within the trees, not too far off. Daggeuro slowly guided them to the treeline, Byron manipulating the snow and slush with his water magic so that their passage was silent.
They gathered in a huddle just inside the wooded perimeter. Kathy whispered, "I recognize the accents, they're Confederates. Fifty, maybe sixty yards on."
"I spotted some of them," said Senta, his voice barely audible. "They appear troubled."
"They probably don't know any more about the cathedral than the Union does," Kathy posited. "We could try to go around their camp."
"We don't know if we've any sort of time constraints," Daggeuro remarked. "We have no guidelines for any kind of objective we're to achieve. For all we know, we aren't even supposed to be looking into this. It just feels right, and we're running on instinct."
"I have an idea," said Dimanche. "Dese men, most of dem are young, barely into dere adulthood. I believe we can frighten dem off." He looked back into the woods, leaning to one side. When he faced the company again, he grinned broadly. "If you would allow me de pleasure?"
"Worth a shot," Daggeuro said. Dimanche guided them back out of the woodline, then began chanting low under his breath. Kathy watched, fascinated, as shadows from the trees began swirling up around him, shifting into vaguely beast-like shapes, snarling and snapping, padding about in the snow. When he was done, there were two dozen shadow creatures of various shapes looming about. "Okay, now what?"
"Now, we run screaming," Dimanche said. He led the way, screaming like a man in mortal peril as the first two shadows chased him. Kathy and Byron went next, followed by the others. When they came within view of the Confederate camp, Kathy learned something invaluable about humanity.
Throughout the course of human history, all manner of cause has been claimed when one man killed another. Man has killed in the name of everything, from tribal loyalty, religion, self-defense, to simple psychotic rage. But when man has ever been faced with the unknown, the alien, the inhuman, he has ever banded together in the name of species survival.
The Confederates surely saw blue uniforms, the garb of their enemy state, but they took aim not at Kathy and her companions, no. Shouts of alarm and attack rose up against the stampeding shadows, which flickered and wavered as bullets and even two cannonballs flew into their midst. Men in gray fled the onrushing terrors alongside the blue coats, never stopping to question whether or not they should take the chance to fight the Union men. Life and limb always come before ideology to a species honed to survival.
Dimanche led the company on an angle away from the Confederates, south and slightly east through the woods. They soon came out the other side of the trees, and two hundred yards away, saw the marble cathedral as it settled onto the ground. Its landing caused a tremor in the ground, one which Kathy felt far more intensely than the others. The stone upon which the structure sat was not of this world, and the soil itself cried out to her magical senses.
Now that it had landed, the company halted, grouping together once again. Kathy cocked her head to one side, looking askance at the structure. It didn't look like a cathedral now, but like something she hadn't seen in many years.
She said aloud, "Is it just me, or does that thing look like a beehive?" No sooner had she posed this question than several figures came flitting out of the floating building, floating and buzzing loudly about. "Quoth has a thing for flying creatures, doesn't he?"
"Don't see why," Byron said. "I've never seen him fly. He's like a dodo- flightless." Kathy snickered, and twenty yards away, a pair of giant, bloodshot eyes blinked open in mid-air, each the size of a car.
"Do not mock me so freely, insect," Quoth's voice rasped. The eyes blinked, then disappeared.
"That's just not right," Vernon breathed. He took up his hammer in hands. "Well? Do we assault the hive?"
"Not yet," said Daggeuro. "Come on, back into the woods. We need to observe these creatures, assess our options." He led them back behind the treeline, well away from where the Confederates had been encamped. Kathy doubted they'd be sticking around after their brush with the supernatural, but saw the wisdom in staying away.
A short time later, as they all sat huddled with spyglasses, watching the hive, the rebel unit they'd encountered came upon the hive. Large bee-men dove down at them from the air, short spears in hand, wielded with deadly efficiency. The bee-men used their spears as both melee and thrown weapons, and against the single-shot rifles of the Confederate troops, they proved lethal.
At least a couple of the gray cats had the rare repeater rifles that had been coveted among soldiery during the Civil War. These men were able to take down nearly a dozen of the buzzing creatures, but they too met the same fate as their fellows, grisly deaths on the heads of spears. When they were all fallen, the bee-men retreated, remaining close to their hive. Many returned inside, while a select few roamed on the ground among the dead humans, taking things away from the unit to the hive.
After watching them for an hour, the group huddled up to discuss their observations. Vernon went first, saying, "They seem to only be able to remain out in the cold for brief periods, a few minutes at a time. They rotated out guards several times this hour alone."
"Their movements in combat were pattern-based," Senta added next. "Once they locked in on a target, they swing left, then right, then sweep in with airborne lunges. Even when throwing, their pattern holds. If we use that timing against them, they can be easily evaded and counter-attacked."
"Excellent," said Daggeuro. "Kathy?"
"Well, they move really slow once they're on the ground," she said. "I don't know as they could fight if they were brought out of the air. And I think there's a way to make that happen, though I'd have to practice it."
"I could use the snow and ice to our advantage," Byron said. "But I'm like Kathy on that one; I want some time to work out some kinks."
"Very well. Baron?"
"Not'ing to add dat hasn't been covered," said the voodoo man, adjusting his top hat.
"All right. Let's go to the encampment those soldiers left behind, see if there's any survivors who need help. We'll demand the camp in return if there's anyone left. Otherwise, we can use their fires and gear without raising suspicions from the hive."
The company moved through the woods, Kathy's feet screaming discomfort in her mind like a pair of hair metal shriekers from the 80's MTV lineup. The rebels had indeed left fires burning, and she immediately stripped off her boots and put her feet close to the heat, groaning as feeling returned to her toes. Senta scavenged up food from smaller cook fires around the camp, as well as blankets and canteens. Vernon brought firewood from a wagon on the camp's east end, and Baron Dimanche used his magic to decrease the smoke let off by the flames.
It was fully twenty minutes before Kathy strapped her boots back on and moved off to the camp's west end, her eyes locked on one tree branch, about two dozen feet up. She accessed her magic, letting it flow into the cold, saturated soil. Her own body felt chilled in response, and she realized that Byron would have a much easier time with whatever he was going to do with his water and ice magic.
"Lucky prick," she groused, closing her eyes. She envisioned the branch, hanging over empty air. She then pictured the ground right beneath it, suffused with water and deep cold, and another force as well- gravity. She focused her will on the soil and stones under the surface, then slipped it with an effort into that pulling force. At first it overwhelmed her mind, a natural force that had seldom been touched by a sentience in such a deliberate manner. While gravity had frequently been manipulated in Ether Plane, this was land which belonged to a Mortal Plane. Maybe not hers, exactly, but a close cousin, and this phenomenon was entirely foreign.
Keeping her will locked there, she opened her eyes, peering at the branch. It was wavering, and no wind blew. She had it, but needed to put more power into her efforts. She found this simple enough, as the force of gravity suddenly gave way to her will.
The branch snapped and slammed into the ground at high speed, kicking up snow, slush and mud. She let out a small whoop, covered her mouth, and repeated her experiment. With each branch she pushed it to the edge of snapping without breaking, easing back the pressure gradually.
She had learned how to control gravity within a small influence range. Kathy headed back to the others, happy but drained.
Nobody wanted to admit it, but as the sun reached high noon, they all felt as if they'd been on a day-long forced march. Everybody was fatigued, none more than the humans, who had been practicing their non-Awakened magic. Daggeuro recommended they all take turns sleeping, so that they could strike the hive in the dark of night.
Kathy, Daggeuro and Dimanche took the first watch, sitting around their campfire, bundled under multiple blankets against the bitter chill. Kathy was thankful there was no wind, and felt a grin light her face as she looked to either side at her companions. "The gang's back together," she said.
"Beg pardon," Dimanche replied.
"The very first time I was in Ether, it was us three on the road," she said, looking into the fire. "I didn't know much of anything then about magic, about faerie, about how the world works. It's only been a few years for me, and so much has changed since then in Ether. It's awful what happened, especially to Amermidst."
"It was hard for everyone, these fifty years," Daggeuro said. "Especially the young ones. I had the benefit of a full and rich childhood. My own offspring had to let theirs go far too early in favor of the ways of war and survival. Nobody should have to quicken their innocence so." Kathy pondered this quietly a while, looking out through the wintry woods around them.
When Byron, Senta and Vernon took their turn at watch, the cyclops took the opportunity to edge to the treeline south for another look at the hive. As Daggeuro had suspected, with the day waning toward evening, fewer bee-men circled the grounded structure. They made Vernon think of the specters from his home world, the Ether Plane from whence he'd come. There had been such creatures there, but they had been peaceful travelers, mostly grocers and healers. This lot were much too war like for him to make a proper comparison.
Yet through the spyglass, they looked identical to the creatures he'd grown up around. He could hardly credit it, but the facts remained true. He returned to the camp, relaying what he'd seen to Senta and Byron. "There will possibly be no resistance outside of the hive by the time we approach. This brings me to my next point," he said, taking a deep breath. "I don't know if we should attack them."
"Why not," asked Byron incredulously. "You saw what they did to those rebels. And besides that, they don't belong here."
"Strictly speaking, neither do we," Vernon pointed out. "Did you not notice that the humans back at the camp we began at did not respond to the oddity of we faerie? A glam had been upon us from the first. They see us as human."
"How do you know this," Senta asked.
"My race is capable of focusing our vision to seek out and identify types of magic. In our cases, a glam shimmers upon these uniforms, rendering us human to the eyes of other humans who are not Awakened. My point is this; if we dispel the glam and approach, they may not attack us. Civil discourse is possible."
"And if they ask about Kathy and I? Assuming they even speak a language we can understand," Byron asked.
"We can explain that you aren't like the other humans here," Vernon replied. "I realize the risk involved in openly approaching them, the loss of strategic advantage it would require. But surey if there is a peaceful resolution to be had, we should aim for it."
"Is this your instinct," Senta asked softly. "Commander Daggeuro pointed out that we're running on pure instinct here, and everyone else's has been to attack. Do you feel otherwise in your heart?" The cyclops looked away through the woods toward the hive, then back.
"I do. I believe they are just as confused as we in this place."
"Then we should wake the others and discuss it," said Senta, leading them back over to the tents. When everybody was roused and clustered together, Vernon voiced his concerns and his alternative course of action. He told them of the bee-people of his world, and how similar they looked to these creatures from the hive. Daggeuro was the first to reply.
"In this place that Quoth has trapped us within, it is safest to estimate that anything is our enemy, a threat to our mission and our lives," the kennin warrior said. "But I also realize that four of us have been living in a world wherein danger lurks everywhere beyond the Boneyard for fifty years, and that such living makes one forget that they used to be willing to reach out with the hand of peace. Kathy reminded me of that when we were traveling to the Boneyard," he said, looking her in the eyes sadly. "We were close to several elves who were wounded and running from giant specters, specters we easily could have slain. But I demanded we not intervene, and they perished. Even had we not arrived in time to save them, we could have at least avenged them. Mayhap we need to remember who we once were, before the time of the Destroyer," he said, looking round at them all.
They were quickly in agreement. Daggeuro and Vernon would lead the way, followed by the others in a wide line, ready in case the bee-men weren't willing to talk. Dimanche was able to easily dispel the glam placed on their clothing; anyone now seeing them would see them true. Thusly exposed, they hitched up their gear and made for the hive, to speak peace, or do battle.
When the company came within fifty yards of the hive in the wintry darkness, Kathy saw six of the winged defenders take to the sky and angle toward them, spears held high. Her magical focus was within the soil, tapped into the natural force of gravity all around them. The power yearned for release, but she held it at bay.
As the nearest creature closed within throwing range, Daggeuro thrust empty hands skyward and called out, "We sue for peace!" Vernon held his arms out as well, though he had a shielding spell held ready for casting. The bee-man chirped something none of them understood, hovering, bobbing up and down in mid-air. It still held its weapon ready, but its head cocked side to side, curious. Daggeuro went on. "Do you comprehend my words?"
The creature nodded its head, and Kathy felt a rush of relief flood through her. She drew back her magic, but only a little. Things could still go sour.
The bee-man floated back to his kin, where the chirps and buzzes continued. There was a great deal of gesturing back toward the company, coupled with stabbing motions. Kathy suspected things weren't going well for the diplomacy angle. But a moment later, the lead bee-man waved one of his hands at two others, who flew off toward the hive. The leader faced the company and slowly lowered itself to the ground, spear held out long-wise in its three-fingered hands. As its legs touched down, it turned the spear tip-down and stabbed it into the soil, leaning against it.
A few minutes later, a new member of the hive, this one far fatter than its kin, carrying no weapon, buzzed and fluttered down next to the lead guard. It cleared its throat and said, "We speak you, you want make no fight, yes?"
"Dear gods, yes, you have it right," Daggeuro said with relief. "We have no quarrel with you. We and you, we don't belong here."
"Home flying, raven man appear," said the chubby bee-man, gesturing with his hands animatedly. "Raven laughs, waves hand, sky tears open. Home flies through, now lost. Looking for home."
"As are we, in our fashion," said Daggeuro. "Do you know how to leave this place?"
"Soldiers, raven man says soldiers carry door in wagon. We attack soldiers, many days, find no door. You help?" Daggeuro flinched, shaking his head.
"We shouldn't just attack the humans," he said. "Did the raven say which soldiers would have the door?"
"Just said soldiers in snow will have door, door will lead away," said the bee. Kathy tugged on Daggeuro's coat to get his attention.
"We didn't check all of the wagons back at the camp," she whispered. "We should go have a look." Daggeuro faced the bee-man once more, and before he could speak, a whirling cone of snow exploded up from the drifts nearby, to the company's left. The sound it made as it spun was like a hurricane wind blowing through, but it generated no force. When it faded, all that remained was a snowman with a suspiciously raven-like head. It's twig arms were folded over its fluffy white torso, and its beak, fashioned from a fat carrot, split open in a smile full of icicle teeth.
"So, the gang's all here, good! Yes, the door is in those woods, in a supply wagon. But only one group gets to go through! The remaining folks will have to wait for instructions to find another one, far, far away from here. So, who gets it? Better decide, folks. This winter's just getting started." The snowman melted away then, returned to harmless white fluff on the ground.
Kathy brought her power back to full bear, waiting for the bee men to attack. But the chubby one just buzzed at his kin, who all shrugged their shoulders. The chubby one looked to Daggeuro and asked, "What mean? What happen?" All eyes were now fixed on the kennin warrior. Whatever he did or said now would likely determine if there would be a fight.
Kathy's gut twisted; prone to usually telling the blunt truth, Daggeuro could get the company back through the door with a simple lie. But his conscience would eat away at him for leaving the bee-men stranded within this strange realm. Then again, if he explained their situation, he might be forced once more to accept battle as the only solution.
Daggeuro shook his head and said, "There is a door," he said. The fat bee man buzzed to himself. "But only one group can go through. Another will appear, but not for several days."
"You not worry," said the bee man. Kathy's heart leaped into her throat. "We have home. You not have home. We wait." Kathy felt a single tear go down her cheek as the bee-men silently winged away then, leaving the company to depart in peace.
Daggeuro once again led the company, their course returning north, toward the rebel camp. They were halfway back to the woods when Vernon said, "It strikes me odd, now that I think of it."
"What does," Kathy asked.
"Their decision to let us have the door. Where I hail from, among the bee people, all final decisions come from the queen." The group caried on, and was two hundred yards from the woods when they heard something rumbling behind them. Kathy peeked over her shoulder, yelped in surprise.
"The hive is moving," she called out. Daggeuro turned around to look back, saw that the hive was slowly turning so that its widened top was angled toward the woods. "I think their queen disagrees with the one we were talking to," she said to Vernon.
"Run," Daggeuro snapped, lunging away toward the woods. Everyone drew weapons and began running through the slush, their progress hampered by slips and falls. Kathy was only a few feet behind Daggeuro as the first spear landed in the muck a few yards behind her.
The hive thrummed as it closed on the woods, and everyone ducked and dodged through te trees, avoiding spears thrown from bee men flying nearby. Baron Dimanche hurled green fireballs up at their newfound foes, and Kathy fired arrows up at them, clipping wings and piercing thoraxes. The bee men made no sound when they were struck dead, a point which unnerved her as she pelted along behind Daggeuro.
They reached the camp with only one injury, a minor gash Senta bore on his left leg. "Search the wagons," Daggeuo barked, Boon and Bane flashing out, knocking aside spear thrusts and throws. Kathy took to one as Byron threw open another, and Vernon shouted that he'd found it by the western edge of the camp.
Kathy and Byron were side by side, running toward him when the cyclops was driven into the ground under four of the bee men, all stabbing repeatedly with their weapons. She screamed in denial of what she was seeing, and unleashed the gravity power she'd tapped into. The bee men collapsed to the ground with a wet crunch, their fragile bodies crushed by her magic.
She and Byron arrived to find Vernon gasping, blood pouring from his mouth. The bees' spears had punched huge holes through his armor and body. Daggeuro came to them, motioning Dimanche and Senta into the wagon, where stood a single white wooden door, attached to nothing. Kathy stroked Vernon's bald pate, weeping as he tried to speak, only gurgling out more blood.
"I'm so sorry, oh God, no," she croaked.
"Go," the cyclops managed. "I, have lived well. Now, you must do the same." He tried feebly to push her away, and she saw the light flee his eyes as his arm dropped into the snow, his body flat and still. Daggeuro was pushing her up to Byron in the wagon then, and the humans fell together through the open doorway.
Once again, all was in darkness. But this time, Kathy felt the tears that continued to run down her cheeks.