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.Chapter Index.
Part Two: Regrets
Family
Stasis
Lost
Hunger
Wake Up Call
A Hole In The World
Fight the Fight
Demons at the Door
In Between
Triumvirate
Regroup
Tumble and Fall
Tests
Time
Change
Circle
Bloodlines
Fight or Flight
Hooks
Protection
Completion
Triangle Part One
Triangle Part Two
Triangle Part Three
Settling
Duality
Awaken
Regrets
Revelations
Ties That Bind
Grace
Evolution
Execution
Wake
Faith
Conduit
Found
Last
Fear
Full Circle
Circles, Doors & Keys
Epilogue
For Part One - Wishes
Chapter Index, click
here.
Part Two: Regrets
Family
Stasis
Lost
Hunger
Wake Up Call
A Hole In The World
Fight the Fight
Demons at the Door
In Between
Triumvirate
Regroup
Tumble and Fall
Tests
Time
Change
Circle
Bloodlines
Fight or Flight
Hooks
Protection
Completion
Triangle Part One
Triangle Part Two
Triangle Part Three
Settling
Duality
Awaken
Regrets
Revelations
Ties That Bind
Grace
Evolution
Execution
Wake
Faith
Conduit
Found
Last
Fear
Full Circle
Circles, Doors & Keys
Epilogue
For Part One - Wishes
Chapter Index, click
here.
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Tumble and Fall
Maya was on a ship and sinking fast. Water spilled in a heavy green
deluge over the deck. Ashy smoke curled in the rigging, but the fire was
still below. A more pressing problem was the rat-men. They burst from the
attacking ship like angered bees from a hive, pouring over the rails in a
twitching, squeaking, wet-furred mass. There was something especially
loathsome about their bald, pink whippish tails. She hunkered beneath the
debris of the mizzenmast, clinging to the hope that if she just kept her
head down, all would be fine.
Trouble was, her mom was there. And her mom was loud.
“Hey Peaches,” she called, completely oblivious to the Rat King and
his friends. “You clear away those baobabs?”
Maya shushed her. Her mom shook her head, not understanding over
the battle cries of invading rodentia.
Her mom sloshed over to her. In an exaggerated whisper, she said, “Those sheep, honey. Remember? They were eating up...”
One of the rats leapt over the fallen mast. Maya and her mother shrieked. They held each other, skirt hems drenched and pulling them
down.
“There you are, Pretties,” the Rat hissed. Spittle frothed on his chisel-shaped cheddar-colored teeth. “I have you now.”
Maya gripped her mom’s hand. She said, “We will never submit, you pointy-faced fiend.”
The rat drew a long curved blade from its scabbard. It gleamed red in the fading sunlight. “Oh, but you will, Maya. You can’t hold out
forever.”
The rat slashed down. Maya and her mother screamed.
Just then, a flash of red streaked across the sky behind rat boy. While they watched, a fencing blade burst from the rat’s belly. The
rat’s eyes rolled, whites exposed, and he fell away dead.
Maya clapped her hands. Her mother swooned.
“It’s you,” Maya sang. “I knew you would return.”
“Of course I would. I fear not, for I am Xander Man,” Xander said. “I gave my eye in the fight against evil. I will gladly risk other body
parts to save you.”
Then he gathered her in his manly arms and carried her to the edge of the ship. Together, they peered down into the black swirling
water.
“We’ll never make it,” she said.
“That’s what they always say,” Xander told her. With her still cradled against his chest, he leapt onto the ship’s rail. “And they are
always wrong. With the body parts and the risking, how can we fail?”
Through the thunderous clamor of the raiding forces, Maya heard a doorbell ringing.
Xander looked down at her. His soft sable eye seemed full of warmth and strength and possibility. “Do you hear something?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” she said. She snuggled into his arms. “Ignore it.”
The doorbell rang again. And again. Then several times, rapid fire.
“I think you have a visitor,” Xander said.
Maya’s chin slipped from her fist, and she awoke with a start. The doorbell buzzed, but it wasn’t a guest at the door. Instead, it was
the attention-getting buzzy noise from Messenger. The message window popped up.
Maya? U R There.
Tears stung Maya’s eyes. On her keyboard, she keyed Ctrl+I to ignore the message and its sender. That hot key combo would be the
first on her keyboard to wear out she used it so much. But he always found a way to come back. She had a few minutes, though. If she
acted fast, she could send a message to her mom.
Maya’s fingers trembled on the keys as she accessed her email program. She typed her mother’s address in the window, then tabbed
to the body of the message.
She typed:
Dear Mom,
Not much time. Miss you so much. Turns out London’s not what it’s cracked up to be and Freddie
But instead of what she typed, this message appeared:
Dear Mom,
London is grate. Not missing Texas AT ALL! Having fab time. Yesterday I went down to the shops
and found
Maya glanced at the screen.
“What?” she said. She gulped down her frustration. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said.
She typed furiously:
Turns out Freddie is an ego-maniacal bastard with delusions of homicidal grandeur and atrocious
spelling
On the screen, these words appeared:
some Xcellent produce, farm fresh brown eggs, and some figs.
“Figs!” Maya shouted.
The message continued without her:
I also found this terrific recipe I wanted to share. (See attached). Talk to you more when I
have time. Busy busy. Freddie sends kisses as always. Lots of love, Maya
“It’s not like she won’t know something’s up. She’s my mother,” Maya yelled.
The send/receive button flashed, and the message disappeared into cyberspace. The Messenger window popped up again. The screen
ID FreddieDX1974 appeared on the window bar.
“Cos she’s been sooo observant the past 4 yrs. The cage U made for us won’t hold me forever, ” he
typed.
“As long as I’m here, you can’t get out,” Maya shot back.
“Not so. Every day I get stronger,” he typed.
Maya swallowed hard. She looked up at the shattered bulb still in its socket. She massaged the tender skin around the cut on her brow.
She typed: “You could let me go.”
“Y would I do that? I’m an egomanical bastard w/delusions of homicidal grandeur,” he answered.
“But...”
Freddie continued to type. “U and I R bound Maya. Nothing U can do 2 change it. Or R U still dreaming
someone will come 2 save U? Mr. Goofball Pirate maybe? He’ll be busting thru the door NE minit.”
Maya shoved away from the computer. “There are other ways,” she said. Her body went rigid with determination.
The message window flashed: “Just what do U think U R doing, Maya?”
Maya lay her hands on the ebony box under the counter. “I can do it, Freddie,” she said. She kept her voice calm, even, cool as Coca-
Cola. Inside, whole other story.
“U wouldn’t dare,” Freddie typed.
“What else do I have to lose?” Maya said. “You already took my sunlight. And my regular light. Ruined my food. Scared away the
delivery guys. What’s next? Gonna explode my hot water tank so I can’t take a bath?”
As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t.
Freddie typed, “LMAO. Thanx for the idea, Daisy.”
“I am not your daisy,” Maya said, teeth clenched. She flipped the lid of the box open. “I’ll do it.”
“U don’t have the strength. Didn’t before, & U’R worn down now. Not a chance in hell,” Freddie
typed.
“Wanna bet?” Maya said. She felt a billowy swell of exhilaration as she tore the glass from its moldering bed of velvet. She knew the
words, of course. Knew them before setting the trap. All part of the plan, though none of it had turned out the way she envisioned.
She only had to say the words, and look into the glass.
“Firistak,” she said. The air around her stirred the fine blonde hairs on her arms.
Freddie typed: “U can’t, Maya. It means goodbuy. U R 2 weak.”
“It’s good B-Y-E, idiot,” Maya said, surprised at her own boldness. “Firistak, Imultien...” The crystal hummed and droned against her
fingers.
The computer screen went suddenly blank. Maya’s pulse thrummed. Her blood rushed in her ears. “Hebristed. Ahntak. Firistak...”
Tendrils of smoke curled from the back of the monitor. The acrid scent of burning filled her nose. Her eyes watered. The glass lifted
from her palms, turning slow circles in the air. Maya dared to smile.
“Habanay. Ahntakya,” she said. “Ishmu—”
Blue-white lightning arcs shot from the computer. Electric current surged into Maya’s skin. Her body tensed. Her head snapped back.
The looking glass settled into her splayed palms and sat like a predator, waiting.
Maya’s head lolled back on her neck. She fought to open her eyes and lost. Consciousness slipped to stasis, and she was gone.
Xander, Dawn and Andrew shouldered their packs and struck out across the dusky moor. Giles followed behind, toting a satchel full of
books, maps and arcane trinkets. In his jacket pocket he kept his beeper, a notepad and the wood-bound book Willow had managed to
make quick work of earlier that afternoon.
Dawn and Andrew, already knowing the way, forged ahead of Xander and Giles. They crossed the gravel service road, leaving
Stonehenge over their left shoulders. The wind that swept across the open field brought forth the soft, grassy scents of autumn. A
nearly full moon hung low in the colorless sky. With Dawn in the lead, they tromped down the steadily sloping field. They arrived at an
escarpment from under which peeked the narrow mouth of a cave. The way the land seemed to bend back on itself reminded Xander
of a fold-over sandwich.
“Someone had to move a lot of earth to get in there,” Xander said, off-handedly.
Dawn stopped in her tracks. She panned her gaze slowly to Giles.
“You?” she said.
Giles made a weak attempt of protesting, but the look of guilt was almost comical.
“What did I say?” Xander said.
“You caused the earthquake?” Dawn said, incredulous.
“Had I known of the instability, I would have never...”
“Wait, earthquake? You did that?” Andrew said. “That’s major cool.”
“It’s not,” Xander said. “Not cool. Should we expect more tectonic harmonics, or did you get them out of your system?”
“N-no. I mean, yes,” Giles stammered. “It isn’t like I planned for an earthquake.”
“Nobody plans for an earthquake,” Dawn said. “Well, they do. Disaster plans and such. But, we’ve been coming to these caves for
weeks Giles. What if something...?”
Giles’ brow furrowed. “Now, just a minute. I would never have knowingly put the lot of you in danger. After the initial seal was
broken, the area stabilized. We should be fine. We have Willow’s spell craft to help us this time. Before, I... well, I tried it alone,”
Giles said. “The incantations are quite complex.”
Dawn stood firm for a moment longer. Then she said, “You’re right. Besides, we all want to know what’s down there. It could be the
answer to everything.”
“Or it could be the secret hide-out of Jim Morrison and Jimmy Hoffa,” Xander said. “For all we know, it could be nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Giles said. He patted the text his in coat pocket. “This book contains maps and descriptions that indicate a labyrinth
of subterranean chambers...”
“Catacombs,” Andrew said, making his voice warble like the host of a late night TV horror show.
“Burial chambers, perhaps. Further archives,” Giles said.
“Ancient mummies, booby traps, a giant boulder on a trigger mechanism...” Xander quipped.
“I’m inclined to think not,” Giles said, blandly.
Dawn stepped in. She said, “Guys, let’s get inside before someone accuses us of making crop circles. Again.”
They started up the path once more, with Andrew jogging along in the lead.
The mouth of the archive was a cave about the width and height of a very large troll or smallish giant. The first thing that struck
Xander when they entered was that it smelled exactly like the Sunnydale High School Library – dusty, with a hint of disintegrating
leather bindings and Earl Grey tea. Come to think of it, it smelled a lot like Giles. Xander thought it funny that this was the first time
he’d made the connection.
Xander equipped the battery powered halogen flashlights (which Giles insisted on calling torches). The carved stone corridor ahead
sloped down at a gentle grade into total darkness.
Before entering Andrew gave them a stiff, forced smile. “This is the first time we’ve been here after dark. Kinda Edgar Allan Poe,
huh?”
“Only if you intend to wall one or more of us up in the walls,” Dawn said. “Come on. This part we know.” Dawn and Giles plunged ahead
into the darkness. Their flashlights cut a wide circle of light through the gloom.
After several minutes of brisk walking, the swath of light fanned out as the corridor widened. The walls fell away replaced by the
feeling of wide-open airiness. Xander held up his flashlight, but the beam illuminated only them. The ceiling, so far above them,
remained cloaked in black.
“Holy Grail!” Xander breathed.
“Neat, huh?” Dawn said. She stopped for a moment to share in his excitement.
“This is the first chamber,” Giles said. “I found only primitive weapons here, and a few broken shields. The path continues on...”
“How is it that National Geographic hasn’t hopped all over this place?” Xander said. “Seems like Jacques Cousteau or one of those
fancy science types would have a blast with a discovery like this.”
“It’s a hidden archive,” Giles said, simply. “The glamour spell concealing it keeps out anyone who doesn’t know of its existence.”
“Like the Isla de Muerta,” Andrew offered.
“Then how did you find it?” Xander asked.
Giles opened his mouth to explain, then closed it again. He struck off down the path without answering. The others followed,
continuing their descent into the murk.
After a while, Andrew said, “This part’s pretty boring even in daylight. The next chamber’s the good stuff. The archive is all big and
spacious, and there are carved stone shelves full of books.”
Just as Andrew had described, the next chamber contained wall to ceiling stone shelves crammed with books and scrolls of every size
and color.
“Hey, look at that,” Xander said. “Add a saber-toothed tiger skin rug and a pterodactyl record player and you’ve got the Bedrock
Public Library.”
“This archive contains some of the most valuable and precious books ever printed, by man or demonkind. And the scrolls,” Giles said,
breathless. “It’s possible they are the last remnants of the Library of Alexandria. Not originals, most likely, but copies secreted here
in a time when the church waged war on the dissemination of knowledge.”
Xander leaned to Dawn. “Does he do this every time?” he whispered.
“So far,” she answered.
“Oh fine,” Giles said. “Belittle our discovery with comparisons to 1960s cartoons all you like, but this is just the beginning. Andrew,
bring that light over. The sealed chamber is this way.”
Andrew, Dawn and Xander followed Giles to the far wall of the archive chamber. The sealed doorway was a recessed niche carved into
the rock, but appeared to have no seams or hinges at all. Down the center of the niche, in what appeared like swirling, ornate
renditions of cartouche letters, was the arcane incantation.
“Maybe it’s in Elvish,” Andrew said, hopefully. “Speak friend, and enter.”
Giles ignored him. “Hold the light steady,” he said. He removed the book from his pocket and turned to the first page. The elegantly
curving letters burned into the thick paper matched those engraved on the wall.
“Now,” Giles said. “Let’s hope Willow’s ancient Pictish is better than her Latin.”
Xander, Dawn and Andrew took a collective step backward.
Dawn giggled. She said, “They’re Pict-o-grams.”
Giles gave her a wan smile. He then raised his hand, dramatically, and spoke four words: Focala Uachtar Muid Skhar.
A stream of dust rained down from the top of the niche. Otherwise, nothing.
“Maybe you said it wrong,” Andrew said.
“I didn’t say it wrong,” Giles answered. Frustration edged up in his voice. “I said the words, exactly as she recited.”
Dawn was nodding. Instinctively, she knew, without really knowing how she knew. She took the can opener from the bungy on
Andrew’s backpack.
“Giles, step back,” she said. When he did, Dawn centered herself before the niche, then gouged her thumb with the can opener’s
curving blade.
“Hey!” Andrew and Xander shouted together.
Dawn traced the symbols with her blood. She had to stand on tip toes to reach the upper arcs of the engraving.
“Read them now,” she said, as she outlined the final sweeping curvature.
“Focala Uachtar Muid Skhar,” Giles said again.
Immediately, the symbols burned bright as a brand. Her blood ignited, filling the room with the sweet, cloying scent of honeysuckle.
“Wow,” Xander breathed.
As the fire faded, Dawn pressed her palm to the center of the door and gave it a shove. The niche slid smoothly back several inches,
revealing a cramped path behind it.
“It worked,” Giles said, “You did it.”
“I did,” Dawn said. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She pushed further, and the doorway opened all the
way to a back wall. She turned to look at them. “Shall we... go in?”
“We can’t come this far and not,” Giles said.
Stepping from the archive chamber into the hallway was like crossing the barrier between worlds. It was dark in the sense of the
absence of all light, and the air felt cool in a preternaturally air-conditioned way not found in most ancient underground archives. The
path itself was tiled with smooth, polished stones but only wide enough for them to walk single file.
Giles took the lead, bearing the only flashlight, as the others were overkill in the narrow hallway. The excitement that ran between
them was like a fourth member of the party, or, rather like a beach ball they bounced back and forth as they tread along a path
unwalked for centuries.
“What do you think we’ll find?” Andrew asked, for the five hundredth time in the first half-hour.
“Maybe it is a corridor between worlds,” Dawn said. “A pathway that opens up onto every dimension thinkable.”
“A superhero dimension?” Andrew asked.
“A dimension of only shrimp,” Xander said.
“Your first guess was more probable,” Giles answered.
“The pathway between worlds?” Xander asked.
Giles came to an abrupt halt. The others did a three stooges to keep from bowling him over. He held the flashlight out in front of him,
illuminating the first handful of steps that would lead them further down.
“No,” Giles said. “Catacombs. Stick close, all of you. As usual, we never know what we might encounter.”
But for an hour of careful descending step after even step, they encountered... only steps. After much complaining, they broke for
tepid cocoa and non-melty s’mores. Then, onward, downward further into darkness.
By Xander’s Indiglo read-out, it was 2:14 a.m. when the stairway ended and the other corridor began.
“This is very Escher-esque,” Dawn observed. “The path is a Mobius strip. Any minute now we’re going to appear on the roof of the
original archive chamber and we’ll all have such a laugh.”
Giles continued on, doggedly refusing to slow his pace. An hour later, they finally reached the end of the line. The corridor terminated
in a square cubicle roughly the size and shape of an elevator.
“A dead end?” Dawn said, disbelieving. “It can’t be...”
Giles held the flashlight in front of him. “It isn’t. Look.”
There was another recessed niche, this one in the floor. A second incantation was engraved in the sandstone. The ridges of the
symbols stood out from the stone with sharp precision, as if it was freshly carved.
“No weathering,” Dawn said, voice vibrating with her enthusiasm. She unwrapped her thumb and pinched the blood back to the
surface. Xander and Andrew cringed as she traced the letters. They all removed themselves back to the corridor.
“Um, all right,” Giles said. He flipped the page to the next set of symbols. “Let’s see: Focala Scuab an t-urlár.”
As before, the symbols blazed. The scent of summer flowers filled the room. Dawn stepped forward onto the panel. With her weight on
it, the niche slowly began to descend.
“Wait! Dawn,” Xander said. He grabbed her, hauled her backward before the floor disappeared into the dark beneath them.
Dawn smacked his arm. “Why did you do that?”
“Have we thought it through to how we’d get back?” Xander asked.
“We just would,” Dawn said, panting. “There would have to be a way.”
“No,” Giles said. “Xander’s right. We need spelunking gear.”
Dawn shook her head. “Spelunking gear? No. We’re meant to go on. We have to.”
“We will, Dawnie,” Xander soothed. “Just, not tonight. We’ll get ropes and pulleys. Hey, a rope ladder would be keen.”
“I’d like one of those miner’s hats,” Andrew said. “You know, the kind with the light on it?” He came over to stand beside Dawn.
Together they perched on the edge, looking down into the abyss. He kicked a stone over the edge. They listened as it ricocheted
down the shaft, then plunked finally to the panel down below.
“Spelunk,” he said. “Good word. Like onomatopoeia. Like if you drop something down a hole, that’s the sound it would make. Speeee-
lunk.”
Dawn folded her arms. “Yeah. Good word.”
Behind them, Giles was shaking his head. “It is actually an amusing word,” he said. “Dawn. I know you’re disappointed. I am, too. It’s
late, but we will come back...”
Dawn turned. “When?” she asked. Even to her own ears, she was starting to get whiny. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow night. It’s a school
night you realize, and Buffy’s been all Joan Crawford since the supervamps...”
Dawn didn’t understand what happened next. Didn’t comprehend the shower of pebbles, or the hard shove that knocked her flat.
“Hey, watch it!” she yelled. She turned, tangling over her feet. For a second, Andrew seemed to hover there like a cartoon coyote.
The rocks under him gave way and he plummeted without a sound into the dark.
Maya was on a ship and sinking fast. Water spilled in a heavy green
deluge over the deck. Ashy smoke curled in the rigging, but the fire was
still below. A more pressing problem was the rat-men. They burst from the
attacking ship like angered bees from a hive, pouring over the rails in a
twitching, squeaking, wet-furred mass. There was something especially
loathsome about their bald, pink whippish tails. She hunkered beneath the
debris of the mizzenmast, clinging to the hope that if she just kept her
head down, all would be fine.
Trouble was, her mom was there. And her mom was loud.
“Hey Peaches,” she called, completely oblivious to the Rat King and
his friends. “You clear away those baobabs?”
Maya shushed her. Her mom shook her head, not understanding over
the battle cries of invading rodentia.
Her mom sloshed over to her. In an exaggerated whisper, she said, “Those sheep, honey. Remember? They were eating up...”
One of the rats leapt over the fallen mast. Maya and her mother shrieked. They held each other, skirt hems drenched and pulling them
down.
“There you are, Pretties,” the Rat hissed. Spittle frothed on his chisel-shaped cheddar-colored teeth. “I have you now.”
Maya gripped her mom’s hand. She said, “We will never submit, you pointy-faced fiend.”
The rat drew a long curved blade from its scabbard. It gleamed red in the fading sunlight. “Oh, but you will, Maya. You can’t hold out
forever.”
The rat slashed down. Maya and her mother screamed.
Just then, a flash of red streaked across the sky behind rat boy. While they watched, a fencing blade burst from the rat’s belly. The
rat’s eyes rolled, whites exposed, and he fell away dead.
Maya clapped her hands. Her mother swooned.
“It’s you,” Maya sang. “I knew you would return.”
“Of course I would. I fear not, for I am Xander Man,” Xander said. “I gave my eye in the fight against evil. I will gladly risk other body
parts to save you.”
Then he gathered her in his manly arms and carried her to the edge of the ship. Together, they peered down into the black swirling
water.
“We’ll never make it,” she said.
“That’s what they always say,” Xander told her. With her still cradled against his chest, he leapt onto the ship’s rail. “And they are
always wrong. With the body parts and the risking, how can we fail?”
Through the thunderous clamor of the raiding forces, Maya heard a doorbell ringing.
Xander looked down at her. His soft sable eye seemed full of warmth and strength and possibility. “Do you hear something?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” she said. She snuggled into his arms. “Ignore it.”
The doorbell rang again. And again. Then several times, rapid fire.
“I think you have a visitor,” Xander said.
Maya’s chin slipped from her fist, and she awoke with a start. The doorbell buzzed, but it wasn’t a guest at the door. Instead, it was
the attention-getting buzzy noise from Messenger. The message window popped up.
Maya? U R There.
Tears stung Maya’s eyes. On her keyboard, she keyed Ctrl+I to ignore the message and its sender. That hot key combo would be the
first on her keyboard to wear out she used it so much. But he always found a way to come back. She had a few minutes, though. If she
acted fast, she could send a message to her mom.
Maya’s fingers trembled on the keys as she accessed her email program. She typed her mother’s address in the window, then tabbed
to the body of the message.
She typed:
Dear Mom,
Not much time. Miss you so much. Turns out London’s not what it’s cracked up to be and Freddie
But instead of what she typed, this message appeared:
Dear Mom,
London is grate. Not missing Texas AT ALL! Having fab time. Yesterday I went down to the shops
and found
Maya glanced at the screen.
“What?” she said. She gulped down her frustration. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said.
She typed furiously:
Turns out Freddie is an ego-maniacal bastard with delusions of homicidal grandeur and atrocious
spelling
On the screen, these words appeared:
some Xcellent produce, farm fresh brown eggs, and some figs.
“Figs!” Maya shouted.
The message continued without her:
I also found this terrific recipe I wanted to share. (See attached). Talk to you more when I
have time. Busy busy. Freddie sends kisses as always. Lots of love, Maya
“It’s not like she won’t know something’s up. She’s my mother,” Maya yelled.
The send/receive button flashed, and the message disappeared into cyberspace. The Messenger window popped up again. The screen
ID FreddieDX1974 appeared on the window bar.
“Cos she’s been sooo observant the past 4 yrs. The cage U made for us won’t hold me forever, ” he
typed.
“As long as I’m here, you can’t get out,” Maya shot back.
“Not so. Every day I get stronger,” he typed.
Maya swallowed hard. She looked up at the shattered bulb still in its socket. She massaged the tender skin around the cut on her brow.
She typed: “You could let me go.”
“Y would I do that? I’m an egomanical bastard w/delusions of homicidal grandeur,” he answered.
“But...”
Freddie continued to type. “U and I R bound Maya. Nothing U can do 2 change it. Or R U still dreaming
someone will come 2 save U? Mr. Goofball Pirate maybe? He’ll be busting thru the door NE minit.”
Maya shoved away from the computer. “There are other ways,” she said. Her body went rigid with determination.
The message window flashed: “Just what do U think U R doing, Maya?”
Maya lay her hands on the ebony box under the counter. “I can do it, Freddie,” she said. She kept her voice calm, even, cool as Coca-
Cola. Inside, whole other story.
“U wouldn’t dare,” Freddie typed.
“What else do I have to lose?” Maya said. “You already took my sunlight. And my regular light. Ruined my food. Scared away the
delivery guys. What’s next? Gonna explode my hot water tank so I can’t take a bath?”
As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t.
Freddie typed, “LMAO. Thanx for the idea, Daisy.”
“I am not your daisy,” Maya said, teeth clenched. She flipped the lid of the box open. “I’ll do it.”
“U don’t have the strength. Didn’t before, & U’R worn down now. Not a chance in hell,” Freddie
typed.
“Wanna bet?” Maya said. She felt a billowy swell of exhilaration as she tore the glass from its moldering bed of velvet. She knew the
words, of course. Knew them before setting the trap. All part of the plan, though none of it had turned out the way she envisioned.
She only had to say the words, and look into the glass.
“Firistak,” she said. The air around her stirred the fine blonde hairs on her arms.
Freddie typed: “U can’t, Maya. It means goodbuy. U R 2 weak.”
“It’s good B-Y-E, idiot,” Maya said, surprised at her own boldness. “Firistak, Imultien...” The crystal hummed and droned against her
fingers.
The computer screen went suddenly blank. Maya’s pulse thrummed. Her blood rushed in her ears. “Hebristed. Ahntak. Firistak...”
Tendrils of smoke curled from the back of the monitor. The acrid scent of burning filled her nose. Her eyes watered. The glass lifted
from her palms, turning slow circles in the air. Maya dared to smile.
“Habanay. Ahntakya,” she said. “Ishmu—”
Blue-white lightning arcs shot from the computer. Electric current surged into Maya’s skin. Her body tensed. Her head snapped back.
The looking glass settled into her splayed palms and sat like a predator, waiting.
Maya’s head lolled back on her neck. She fought to open her eyes and lost. Consciousness slipped to stasis, and she was gone.
Xander, Dawn and Andrew shouldered their packs and struck out across the dusky moor. Giles followed behind, toting a satchel full of
books, maps and arcane trinkets. In his jacket pocket he kept his beeper, a notepad and the wood-bound book Willow had managed to
make quick work of earlier that afternoon.
Dawn and Andrew, already knowing the way, forged ahead of Xander and Giles. They crossed the gravel service road, leaving
Stonehenge over their left shoulders. The wind that swept across the open field brought forth the soft, grassy scents of autumn. A
nearly full moon hung low in the colorless sky. With Dawn in the lead, they tromped down the steadily sloping field. They arrived at an
escarpment from under which peeked the narrow mouth of a cave. The way the land seemed to bend back on itself reminded Xander
of a fold-over sandwich.
“Someone had to move a lot of earth to get in there,” Xander said, off-handedly.
Dawn stopped in her tracks. She panned her gaze slowly to Giles.
“You?” she said.
Giles made a weak attempt of protesting, but the look of guilt was almost comical.
“What did I say?” Xander said.
“You caused the earthquake?” Dawn said, incredulous.
“Had I known of the instability, I would have never...”
“Wait, earthquake? You did that?” Andrew said. “That’s major cool.”
“It’s not,” Xander said. “Not cool. Should we expect more tectonic harmonics, or did you get them out of your system?”
“N-no. I mean, yes,” Giles stammered. “It isn’t like I planned for an earthquake.”
“Nobody plans for an earthquake,” Dawn said. “Well, they do. Disaster plans and such. But, we’ve been coming to these caves for
weeks Giles. What if something...?”
Giles’ brow furrowed. “Now, just a minute. I would never have knowingly put the lot of you in danger. After the initial seal was
broken, the area stabilized. We should be fine. We have Willow’s spell craft to help us this time. Before, I... well, I tried it alone,”
Giles said. “The incantations are quite complex.”
Dawn stood firm for a moment longer. Then she said, “You’re right. Besides, we all want to know what’s down there. It could be the
answer to everything.”
“Or it could be the secret hide-out of Jim Morrison and Jimmy Hoffa,” Xander said. “For all we know, it could be nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Giles said. He patted the text his in coat pocket. “This book contains maps and descriptions that indicate a labyrinth
of subterranean chambers...”
“Catacombs,” Andrew said, making his voice warble like the host of a late night TV horror show.
“Burial chambers, perhaps. Further archives,” Giles said.
“Ancient mummies, booby traps, a giant boulder on a trigger mechanism...” Xander quipped.
“I’m inclined to think not,” Giles said, blandly.
Dawn stepped in. She said, “Guys, let’s get inside before someone accuses us of making crop circles. Again.”
They started up the path once more, with Andrew jogging along in the lead.
The mouth of the archive was a cave about the width and height of a very large troll or smallish giant. The first thing that struck
Xander when they entered was that it smelled exactly like the Sunnydale High School Library – dusty, with a hint of disintegrating
leather bindings and Earl Grey tea. Come to think of it, it smelled a lot like Giles. Xander thought it funny that this was the first time
he’d made the connection.
Xander equipped the battery powered halogen flashlights (which Giles insisted on calling torches). The carved stone corridor ahead
sloped down at a gentle grade into total darkness.
Before entering Andrew gave them a stiff, forced smile. “This is the first time we’ve been here after dark. Kinda Edgar Allan Poe,
huh?”
“Only if you intend to wall one or more of us up in the walls,” Dawn said. “Come on. This part we know.” Dawn and Giles plunged ahead
into the darkness. Their flashlights cut a wide circle of light through the gloom.
After several minutes of brisk walking, the swath of light fanned out as the corridor widened. The walls fell away replaced by the
feeling of wide-open airiness. Xander held up his flashlight, but the beam illuminated only them. The ceiling, so far above them,
remained cloaked in black.
“Holy Grail!” Xander breathed.
“Neat, huh?” Dawn said. She stopped for a moment to share in his excitement.
“This is the first chamber,” Giles said. “I found only primitive weapons here, and a few broken shields. The path continues on...”
“How is it that National Geographic hasn’t hopped all over this place?” Xander said. “Seems like Jacques Cousteau or one of those
fancy science types would have a blast with a discovery like this.”
“It’s a hidden archive,” Giles said, simply. “The glamour spell concealing it keeps out anyone who doesn’t know of its existence.”
“Like the Isla de Muerta,” Andrew offered.
“Then how did you find it?” Xander asked.
Giles opened his mouth to explain, then closed it again. He struck off down the path without answering. The others followed,
continuing their descent into the murk.
After a while, Andrew said, “This part’s pretty boring even in daylight. The next chamber’s the good stuff. The archive is all big and
spacious, and there are carved stone shelves full of books.”
Just as Andrew had described, the next chamber contained wall to ceiling stone shelves crammed with books and scrolls of every size
and color.
“Hey, look at that,” Xander said. “Add a saber-toothed tiger skin rug and a pterodactyl record player and you’ve got the Bedrock
Public Library.”
“This archive contains some of the most valuable and precious books ever printed, by man or demonkind. And the scrolls,” Giles said,
breathless. “It’s possible they are the last remnants of the Library of Alexandria. Not originals, most likely, but copies secreted here
in a time when the church waged war on the dissemination of knowledge.”
Xander leaned to Dawn. “Does he do this every time?” he whispered.
“So far,” she answered.
“Oh fine,” Giles said. “Belittle our discovery with comparisons to 1960s cartoons all you like, but this is just the beginning. Andrew,
bring that light over. The sealed chamber is this way.”
Andrew, Dawn and Xander followed Giles to the far wall of the archive chamber. The sealed doorway was a recessed niche carved into
the rock, but appeared to have no seams or hinges at all. Down the center of the niche, in what appeared like swirling, ornate
renditions of cartouche letters, was the arcane incantation.
“Maybe it’s in Elvish,” Andrew said, hopefully. “Speak friend, and enter.”
Giles ignored him. “Hold the light steady,” he said. He removed the book from his pocket and turned to the first page. The elegantly
curving letters burned into the thick paper matched those engraved on the wall.
“Now,” Giles said. “Let’s hope Willow’s ancient Pictish is better than her Latin.”
Xander, Dawn and Andrew took a collective step backward.
Dawn giggled. She said, “They’re Pict-o-grams.”
Giles gave her a wan smile. He then raised his hand, dramatically, and spoke four words: Focala Uachtar Muid Skhar.
A stream of dust rained down from the top of the niche. Otherwise, nothing.
“Maybe you said it wrong,” Andrew said.
“I didn’t say it wrong,” Giles answered. Frustration edged up in his voice. “I said the words, exactly as she recited.”
Dawn was nodding. Instinctively, she knew, without really knowing how she knew. She took the can opener from the bungy on
Andrew’s backpack.
“Giles, step back,” she said. When he did, Dawn centered herself before the niche, then gouged her thumb with the can opener’s
curving blade.
“Hey!” Andrew and Xander shouted together.
Dawn traced the symbols with her blood. She had to stand on tip toes to reach the upper arcs of the engraving.
“Read them now,” she said, as she outlined the final sweeping curvature.
“Focala Uachtar Muid Skhar,” Giles said again.
Immediately, the symbols burned bright as a brand. Her blood ignited, filling the room with the sweet, cloying scent of honeysuckle.
“Wow,” Xander breathed.
As the fire faded, Dawn pressed her palm to the center of the door and gave it a shove. The niche slid smoothly back several inches,
revealing a cramped path behind it.
“It worked,” Giles said, “You did it.”
“I did,” Dawn said. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She pushed further, and the doorway opened all the
way to a back wall. She turned to look at them. “Shall we... go in?”
“We can’t come this far and not,” Giles said.
Stepping from the archive chamber into the hallway was like crossing the barrier between worlds. It was dark in the sense of the
absence of all light, and the air felt cool in a preternaturally air-conditioned way not found in most ancient underground archives. The
path itself was tiled with smooth, polished stones but only wide enough for them to walk single file.
Giles took the lead, bearing the only flashlight, as the others were overkill in the narrow hallway. The excitement that ran between
them was like a fourth member of the party, or, rather like a beach ball they bounced back and forth as they tread along a path
unwalked for centuries.
“What do you think we’ll find?” Andrew asked, for the five hundredth time in the first half-hour.
“Maybe it is a corridor between worlds,” Dawn said. “A pathway that opens up onto every dimension thinkable.”
“A superhero dimension?” Andrew asked.
“A dimension of only shrimp,” Xander said.
“Your first guess was more probable,” Giles answered.
“The pathway between worlds?” Xander asked.
Giles came to an abrupt halt. The others did a three stooges to keep from bowling him over. He held the flashlight out in front of him,
illuminating the first handful of steps that would lead them further down.
“No,” Giles said. “Catacombs. Stick close, all of you. As usual, we never know what we might encounter.”
But for an hour of careful descending step after even step, they encountered... only steps. After much complaining, they broke for
tepid cocoa and non-melty s’mores. Then, onward, downward further into darkness.
By Xander’s Indiglo read-out, it was 2:14 a.m. when the stairway ended and the other corridor began.
“This is very Escher-esque,” Dawn observed. “The path is a Mobius strip. Any minute now we’re going to appear on the roof of the
original archive chamber and we’ll all have such a laugh.”
Giles continued on, doggedly refusing to slow his pace. An hour later, they finally reached the end of the line. The corridor terminated
in a square cubicle roughly the size and shape of an elevator.
“A dead end?” Dawn said, disbelieving. “It can’t be...”
Giles held the flashlight in front of him. “It isn’t. Look.”
There was another recessed niche, this one in the floor. A second incantation was engraved in the sandstone. The ridges of the
symbols stood out from the stone with sharp precision, as if it was freshly carved.
“No weathering,” Dawn said, voice vibrating with her enthusiasm. She unwrapped her thumb and pinched the blood back to the
surface. Xander and Andrew cringed as she traced the letters. They all removed themselves back to the corridor.
“Um, all right,” Giles said. He flipped the page to the next set of symbols. “Let’s see: Focala Scuab an t-urlár.”
As before, the symbols blazed. The scent of summer flowers filled the room. Dawn stepped forward onto the panel. With her weight on
it, the niche slowly began to descend.
“Wait! Dawn,” Xander said. He grabbed her, hauled her backward before the floor disappeared into the dark beneath them.
Dawn smacked his arm. “Why did you do that?”
“Have we thought it through to how we’d get back?” Xander asked.
“We just would,” Dawn said, panting. “There would have to be a way.”
“No,” Giles said. “Xander’s right. We need spelunking gear.”
Dawn shook her head. “Spelunking gear? No. We’re meant to go on. We have to.”
“We will, Dawnie,” Xander soothed. “Just, not tonight. We’ll get ropes and pulleys. Hey, a rope ladder would be keen.”
“I’d like one of those miner’s hats,” Andrew said. “You know, the kind with the light on it?” He came over to stand beside Dawn.
Together they perched on the edge, looking down into the abyss. He kicked a stone over the edge. They listened as it ricocheted
down the shaft, then plunked finally to the panel down below.
“Spelunk,” he said. “Good word. Like onomatopoeia. Like if you drop something down a hole, that’s the sound it would make. Speeee-
lunk.”
Dawn folded her arms. “Yeah. Good word.”
Behind them, Giles was shaking his head. “It is actually an amusing word,” he said. “Dawn. I know you’re disappointed. I am, too. It’s
late, but we will come back...”
Dawn turned. “When?” she asked. Even to her own ears, she was starting to get whiny. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow night. It’s a school
night you realize, and Buffy’s been all Joan Crawford since the supervamps...”
Dawn didn’t understand what happened next. Didn’t comprehend the shower of pebbles, or the hard shove that knocked her flat.
“Hey, watch it!” she yelled. She turned, tangling over her feet. For a second, Andrew seemed to hover there like a cartoon coyote.
The rocks under him gave way and he plummeted without a sound into the dark.
A song for
someone who needs
somewhere
to long for
homesick
cause I no longer know
where home is
Homesick
The Kings of Convenience
someone who needs
somewhere
to long for
homesick
cause I no longer know
where home is
Homesick
The Kings of Convenience