For a moment he became so violently nauseated that he lost all awareness of his other senses. It felt like his stomach was being folded inside out. He clenched his teeth to avoid releasing a stream of vomit.
The nausea departed as quickly as it had arrived. He felt dizzy. A severe ache blossomed behind the midpoint of his forehead.
It took a moment for Cole to realize that he was no longer falling. He was seated on the ground. When had he landed? Dimly realizing that his eyes were closed, he opened them.
He was seated on scorched dirt, encircled by a symmetrical ring of twelve stone pillars. Sparse brush grew here and there, as if the land lacked the fertility to support abundant weeds. Uneven brown plains extended in all directions. Near and far, lonely trees grew at random, like the haphazard survivors of a plague-ravaged forest. The sun had set, bathing the lonely prairie in soft twilight.
The kidnappers were not far off, backlit by the glowing horizon, loading the kids into horse-drawn cages. In the foreground, between two of the pillars, a hooded figure faced away from Cole, observing the activity.
Cole could hardly believe he was uninjured. A fall like he had experienced should have pulverized his bones. Apparently, none of the others had been hurt either. He could see the muscular redhead and the scarred blond man lugging the huge skull between them.
The brown landscape was unfamiliar. Cole knew of nowhere near his town where the terrain looked like this. He had never seen this ring of tall gray pillars. He looked up. There was only sky. How could dropping down a manhole deposit him on a barren prairie? Yet here he sat. Something weird had happened, something inexplicable.
Holding his breath and staying low, Cole scuttled sideways, hoping to take cover behind one of the pillars. As he got closer, he noticed the pillar was textured like bark, and in a flash he realized the pillars were petrified trees.
On the far side of the fossilized tree, Cole sat with his back to the stone. The petrified trunk was wide enough to conceal him. If nobody came to this side of the tree circle, he might not be discovered. But then what? How had he gotten here? How could he get back to the manhole and the basement?
Motion off to one side caught his eye. The hooded, robed figure had moved into view. The person continued to stare toward the kidnappers, but he clearly addressed Cole. “You are a surprise.” The male voice was somewhat deep, the words enunciated clearly, the tone neither menacing nor friendly.
“Please don’t give me away,” Cole asked quietly.
“The slavers have their quarry,” the man said, still not looking at him. “They told me not to expect anyone else. The way closed right after you came through.”
“What way?” Cole asked. “Where am I?”
“Far from home.” There was a hint of pity behind the words. “You have crossed over to the Outskirts.”
“The outskirts of where?”
“A difficult question. The outskirts of everywhere, perhaps. Certainly the outskirts of the world you know. This is an in-between place.”
The man was showing no hostility. He showed no fear of the kidnappers, either. He stood in plain sight. Cole felt wary, but he needed information. “How do I get back?”
“You don’t. It is hard to find the Outskirts, but much harder to truly leave.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a Wayminder. I help control access to the Outskirts.”
“Can’t you send me home? And my friends, too? Those guys kidnapped them.”
“I will not be able to open a way here for months. I have overtaxed my influence in this place. Others of my order would be able to accomplish the feat sooner. The slavers paid me well to open this way.”
“You opened it for them?” Cole sputtered, unable to hide his anger.
“Harvesting slaves from outside the boundaries is no crime,” the Wayminder said. “Not anymore. The High King of the five kingdoms supports it.”
“What if I pay you?” Cole asked. “You know, like the slavers did. Could you open a way for me?”
“Not in this location for some time,” the Wayminder said. “Elsewhere, perhaps. But your problem involves more than simply opening a way. Once you have come to the Outskirts, you will inevitably be drawn back here. The pull is considerably stronger if this is your birthplace, but once you have visited, all roads tend to lead you back.”
Cole could hardly believe what he was hearing. “So even if I make it home, I’ll end up here again?”
“Most likely within hours of your departure.”
“This can’t be happening.”
“I sympathize with your disorientation. Be grateful that you did not come here as a slave.”
“They took my friends. I wanted to help them.”
“Your friends are beyond any aid you could offer. They have been claimed by the slavers. They will be sold.”
Cole was nervous about the next question. He worried that mentioning his vulnerability could end the unspoken truce, but he needed to know what the Wayminder intended to do with him. “You’re not going to turn me over to them?”
“I am no slaver, and I no longer work for the slavers. They paid me to open a way. I performed my duty. I held the way open for the agreed duration. Now the way is closed. Our arrangement was specific and temporary. You came through on your own. They presently have no claim on you. Nor do I. But if they catch you unmarked, they can take ownership of you.”
“Unmarked?”
“Slaves bear a mark. The freeborn bear a different mark. Without a mark, the slavers could still claim you. Not all slaves hail from outside our boundaries.”
“Can I get marked as free?” Cole asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Many places, none of them close at hand. The nearest would probably be the village of Keeva. You would present yourself to a needle master. Any unmarked person can request a freemark. Naturally, you would have to avoid any slavers on your way there. Until you bear a freemark, any slaver given half a chance would promptly label you as their property.”
“My friends will all be slaves?”
“If the slavers brought your friends here, their fates are sealed.”
Cole tried to digest the information. He had thought he was following his friends into a sewer. Getting stranded in a desolate, magical prairie was a lot more than he had bargained for. Had he really left the world he knew behind? Was he really stuck here? If so, should he abandon his friends and run off to a village to get a mark that would protect him from slavery? If he fled, would he ever find his friends again?
The nausea departed as quickly as it had arrived. He felt dizzy. A severe ache blossomed behind the midpoint of his forehead.
It took a moment for Cole to realize that he was no longer falling. He was seated on the ground. When had he landed? Dimly realizing that his eyes were closed, he opened them.
He was seated on scorched dirt, encircled by a symmetrical ring of twelve stone pillars. Sparse brush grew here and there, as if the land lacked the fertility to support abundant weeds. Uneven brown plains extended in all directions. Near and far, lonely trees grew at random, like the haphazard survivors of a plague-ravaged forest. The sun had set, bathing the lonely prairie in soft twilight.
The kidnappers were not far off, backlit by the glowing horizon, loading the kids into horse-drawn cages. In the foreground, between two of the pillars, a hooded figure faced away from Cole, observing the activity.
Cole could hardly believe he was uninjured. A fall like he had experienced should have pulverized his bones. Apparently, none of the others had been hurt either. He could see the muscular redhead and the scarred blond man lugging the huge skull between them.
The brown landscape was unfamiliar. Cole knew of nowhere near his town where the terrain looked like this. He had never seen this ring of tall gray pillars. He looked up. There was only sky. How could dropping down a manhole deposit him on a barren prairie? Yet here he sat. Something weird had happened, something inexplicable.
Holding his breath and staying low, Cole scuttled sideways, hoping to take cover behind one of the pillars. As he got closer, he noticed the pillar was textured like bark, and in a flash he realized the pillars were petrified trees.
On the far side of the fossilized tree, Cole sat with his back to the stone. The petrified trunk was wide enough to conceal him. If nobody came to this side of the tree circle, he might not be discovered. But then what? How had he gotten here? How could he get back to the manhole and the basement?
Motion off to one side caught his eye. The hooded, robed figure had moved into view. The person continued to stare toward the kidnappers, but he clearly addressed Cole. “You are a surprise.” The male voice was somewhat deep, the words enunciated clearly, the tone neither menacing nor friendly.
“Please don’t give me away,” Cole asked quietly.
“The slavers have their quarry,” the man said, still not looking at him. “They told me not to expect anyone else. The way closed right after you came through.”
“What way?” Cole asked. “Where am I?”
“Far from home.” There was a hint of pity behind the words. “You have crossed over to the Outskirts.”
“The outskirts of where?”
“A difficult question. The outskirts of everywhere, perhaps. Certainly the outskirts of the world you know. This is an in-between place.”
The man was showing no hostility. He showed no fear of the kidnappers, either. He stood in plain sight. Cole felt wary, but he needed information. “How do I get back?”
“You don’t. It is hard to find the Outskirts, but much harder to truly leave.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a Wayminder. I help control access to the Outskirts.”
“Can’t you send me home? And my friends, too? Those guys kidnapped them.”
“I will not be able to open a way here for months. I have overtaxed my influence in this place. Others of my order would be able to accomplish the feat sooner. The slavers paid me well to open this way.”
“You opened it for them?” Cole sputtered, unable to hide his anger.
“Harvesting slaves from outside the boundaries is no crime,” the Wayminder said. “Not anymore. The High King of the five kingdoms supports it.”
“What if I pay you?” Cole asked. “You know, like the slavers did. Could you open a way for me?”
“Not in this location for some time,” the Wayminder said. “Elsewhere, perhaps. But your problem involves more than simply opening a way. Once you have come to the Outskirts, you will inevitably be drawn back here. The pull is considerably stronger if this is your birthplace, but once you have visited, all roads tend to lead you back.”
Cole could hardly believe what he was hearing. “So even if I make it home, I’ll end up here again?”
“Most likely within hours of your departure.”
“This can’t be happening.”
“I sympathize with your disorientation. Be grateful that you did not come here as a slave.”
“They took my friends. I wanted to help them.”
“Your friends are beyond any aid you could offer. They have been claimed by the slavers. They will be sold.”
Cole was nervous about the next question. He worried that mentioning his vulnerability could end the unspoken truce, but he needed to know what the Wayminder intended to do with him. “You’re not going to turn me over to them?”
“I am no slaver, and I no longer work for the slavers. They paid me to open a way. I performed my duty. I held the way open for the agreed duration. Now the way is closed. Our arrangement was specific and temporary. You came through on your own. They presently have no claim on you. Nor do I. But if they catch you unmarked, they can take ownership of you.”
“Unmarked?”
“Slaves bear a mark. The freeborn bear a different mark. Without a mark, the slavers could still claim you. Not all slaves hail from outside our boundaries.”
“Can I get marked as free?” Cole asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Many places, none of them close at hand. The nearest would probably be the village of Keeva. You would present yourself to a needle master. Any unmarked person can request a freemark. Naturally, you would have to avoid any slavers on your way there. Until you bear a freemark, any slaver given half a chance would promptly label you as their property.”
“My friends will all be slaves?”
“If the slavers brought your friends here, their fates are sealed.”
Cole tried to digest the information. He had thought he was following his friends into a sewer. Getting stranded in a desolate, magical prairie was a lot more than he had bargained for. Had he really left the world he knew behind? Was he really stuck here? If so, should he abandon his friends and run off to a village to get a mark that would protect him from slavery? If he fled, would he ever find his friends again?
