Secret Order of the Overworld

By Kennedy J. Quinn

Gabrell and his beloved Majeska are pulled into a power struggle between a Dark Sisterhood using Visionary prowess to punish Overling men's corruption in the secret realm Underneath, and the desire to follow the Catalyst to the peace prophesied by the Predecessors for the Overworld. This edition includes Book One, UNDERNEATH and Book Two, OVERCAME.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781304387752

Book preview

Secret Order of the Overworld

SECRET ORDER OF THE OVERWORLD

UNDERNEATH

OVERCAME

Kennedy J. Quinn

FreeValley Publishing

Fantasy

COPYRIGHT

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in the novel are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

UNDERNEATH Copyright © 2013 Sheri J. Kennedy, a.k.a. Kennedy J. Quinn

OVERCAME Copyright © 2013 Sheri J. Kennedy, a.k.a. Kennedy J. Quinn

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. Published in the United States by Sheri J. Kennedy and FreeValley Publishing, North Bend, Washington

ISBN 978-1-304-38775-2

Visit FreeValley Publishing online at www.freevalleypublishing.com

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My brother, Dave Walton, gets first mention. He loyally dug through my first effort and discovered the vein of story ‘underneath’ the way-too-many words.

Casondra Brewster gave me the confidence and tools to mine the manuscript and refine the remaining words into a pure tale. Her inspiration and that of SnoValley Writes! the writing group she founded, brought me from writer to author.

Victoria Bastedo supplied invaluable encouragement and polished my characters and plotline to a smooth shine with long-suffering rubs using the softest cloth.

And the precious gift of a novel was not all I gained on this venture. The riches of friendship with my fellow writers, the annual gold rush of NaNoWriMo, and the continued joy of the next discovery of story are treasures beyond compare. In life, as a writer, I’ve hit the mother lode.

BOOK ONE:  UNDERNEATH

For my Father who taught me the terrible beauty of Integrity.

ONE

He could hear her crying out, Gabrell! Gabrell! And again, Gabrell!

He spotted her alongside the dark object and ran to her with all his might. She rushed at him panting, calling out and then fell against the black Block. Right into the darkness, she fell and was gone.

He crossed the spot where she’d been. Turning, searching, he threw himself down slapping the enormous black Block until his hands burned. Looking for an opening—a way to follow. Finally he rolled away from it, flailing his arms, writhing on the grass. He wailed, Majeska! over and over again.

His chant came to his ears as a voice not his own, like someone telling him this word he did not understand. Majeska.

He imagined the woman, trying to grasp all details of her. He didn’t want to let her go. She was golden—that foremost—not brown like me. Her hair was brown, but golden too. And her eyes—green? Intense, burning with urgency, excitement—fear? But they were not afraid of me. They were open, knowing.

She knows me! A thrill went through him. The only other impressions were beauty, strength and a garment of red. His thrill fell into longing as he lamented. She knows me and is gone.

Urgency engulfed him. He ran down the long side of the immense Block, and then rushed along the next side. But there was no interruption, no holds to climb with or reach for.

The noon-bright light disappeared in the cube’s dense shadow as he turned down the fourth side. He reached toward the pock-marked surface and was captivated by the feeling. It was soothing and unexpected. The object seemed—alive. Though it looked like stone, it was the same temperature as himself. The evenness of warmth confounded him as his hands ran along it, unable to let go.

He paced the edge of the Block, feeling the rich comfort of being in its presence and looked out across the grassy plain. It was featureless except for the ridge of mountains in the far distance.

The sun beat on him from above. He sat resting his face and back on this living wall. As he closed his eyes, he dozed, and his mind opened. With a dizzy sensation, he fell into the Block. He kept falling through endless darkness, but without fear. It was ecstatically comforting like floating on the palm of his own hand, enlarged to encompass and hold him. He rested in peace, free of harm, while seeming to ride to someplace wonderful. 

He awakened back to consciousness of sitting on the same grass. Leaving had just been a dream. The sun hurt his eyes, and he felt the call of home. It was a tenuous, fluttering-in-the-breeze kind of memory. After struggling in his mind, he decided to walk toward the mountains. Understanding would have to wait. He reached out for the only thing he was sure of, and grew hoarse calling out, Majeska.

---

She tumbled onto the blue tiles of her garden at home, breathless, excited—furious.

I saw him! He was right there. In the sun. He was not Under. He was in the Void. Right there—and he saw me too! She paced and ranted. How could the Catalyst be so unstable? I shouldn’t have Traveled when I fell. I guess the rules are different in the Void—they say it’s easy to Travel away. But how could I be so close and so impossibly far away?

Her hands clutched to fists. Striding to the side of a wide pool she folded her arms. She followed along its edge, thoughts leaping through her mind. If only I had more time. I should’ve said more than his name. I should have asked him. Does he remember? Did he say my name too? Or was that just my imagination as I was Traveling? Damn! Why did it have to be so unstable? Why couldn’t I stay?

As she came around the pool for the third time her mind grew more reflective. She sat on the edge, trailing her foot in the crystal turquoise water, unaware that the hem of her sari dropped in as well. She thought of how he’d appeared in that brief moment. He was parched and somewhat gaunt, yet strong still. He was baked even browner by the sun.

How long has he been in the Void? He wasn’t burned. Is he aware yet of its Endless Day?

His collar, shirt and vest were missing but his hair was bound in the traditional manner, and new bands had been added as it had grown. He retained his sash and breeches, and thankfully, his obsidian brooch. His violet-grey eyes looked clear and aware.

But there was something missing. What is it? He was looking at me differently. Ah… He didn’t know me. He didn’t come to tell me what happened to him. He came hoping to be told.

She sighed and looked into the water at her disappointed eyes reflecting grimly back at her. With an intake of breath she snatched the corner of her ruby-colored sari from the water and stared absently as the ripples ran away and echoed back to her.

---

The sun burned through him. He walked and diminished as the mountains grew. He twisted around and looked out across the great plain to see how far he had come. His heart jumped into his mouth. The dark cube. He knew it was his destiny.  He rushed toward it. The thing reflected no light—even emanated darkness—into the harshly sunlit day. It loomed, ominous and intoxicatingly magnetic to him.

His pace was too much in his parched condition, and he fell, passing into an uneasy swoon filled with a long series of images—countryside, ocean in the distance, underwater depths, faces, darkness filled with stars, stone, and utter darkness filled with despair.

He pulled himself out of the delirium and shook it off, determined to get back to the Block. He stood, wobbling, and stumbled toward the towering black mound, now close at hand. He entered into its shadow gasping in relief.

Leaning against the cube, his spirit reached for Majeska. He moved down the side of the Block and braved the blazing sun again to gaze around the corner at the place where she had vanished.

He remembered the word she was calling. ‘Gabrell’. She shouted it constantly. Maybe it helped her keep from disappearing. Maybe it opened the door she went through?

He moved to the spot where she fell and spoke over it deliberately, Gabrell. Gabrell. Nothing. He touched the Block with both palms and commanded again, Gabrell, Gabrell.

He thought back. She began to say this as soon as she saw me. Was it a command? Or… maybe she was calling me? I call her, ‘Majeska.’ She called me, ‘Gabrell.’ I am Gabrell.

Gabrell worried that he would again reach the point of delirium. He focused harder on finding some way to Majeska, scanning the Block yet again, poring over its every feature. When he reached the end of the side he was on, he was reluctant to turn and lose sight of the place he’d seen her, in case she came again. He walked back to the site.

At an impasse, he sat with his back to the Block and continued to meditate on the visitation. Lost in thought, he fell backwards into the Block as he had when dreaming. This time, however, he was not asleep! Shock threw him back out to the surface of the Block. Excited, he pushed against it with his back. He turned and ran his hands over the area looking for cracks or some kind of lever or key to open a door.

I must recreate what I did. Both times, asleep and awake, I was leaning against the Block. He sat again with his back on the wall.

What else? I can try falling asleep. But then it will only be a dream, as it was the first time. Maybe I can will myself to awaken, and I’ll still be inside. He tried to relax and clear his mind. His energy jumped. His thoughts raced, chasing one another. It was no use!

He took a deep breath and tried to imagine something calm. He envisioned Majeska. His pulse quickened as he remembered her running. No. Too much.

He focused on the memory of her hair. Long waves, shining, warm brown, halo of gold, warm brown-gold . He fell back. He kept his thought, gold and brown and he kept falling. He felt the comforting hand, and flowing and long and felt himself Traveling in sweet darkness without walking. And golden and his Vision of her hair became more lucid.

He Saw the beautiful young woman walking in grandeur down an arched walkway. Her turquoise sari glowed in the sunlight flashing with gold ornament. The emeralds set in her magnificent, sculpted braids mirrored the vibrant green eyes set within her regal face. But where the gems glittered gaily, the eyes were deeply pensive.

Vision faded to darkness, he seemed to bump down, and there was light. Gabrell was astounded. He had been transported to new surroundings. He longed to continue his search but was overcome with weariness. Eased by the cool evening light, and surrounded by fruit trees and quiet, he gave in to his exhaustion. He stretched out on the soft turf and slept without the disturbance of dreams.

TWO

Majeska spent her next days back in the Archives of the Sisterhood. She had spent much time in this remote library and was grateful that her early years of training and her status as a Traveler still allowed her access. Through deep research she had learned how to enter the Void, but now she needed to learn how to stabilize her presence there. Her attempted return had failed altogether, but she must reach him—and soon. In the Void he would waste away.

Her long research came up dry. It seemed no one wished to stay in the Void. It was always mentioned as a transitional place. The people that remained there died quickly, and the few that tarried and then got out rarely survived either. If they had been Under they did not survive at all. She set aside her feeling of panic at the thought.

There is nothing to prove that’s where he has been. She tried to focus again, running her mind back over her lessons.

If only I could ask Jembra. She felt so lost and betrayed since her teacher had gone astray.

Majeska’s memory wandered to a time in her youth when she had sat in Jembra’s class at this very desk.

But I researched fifteen cases, her small self said. I still don’t understand how a son can atone for his father’s misdeed.

Well, is it true that a son benefits when his father is smart and noble? Jembra queried.

He might, I guess.

In what way?

If his father’s smart he may increase the wealth and knowledge passed to his son.

And if he is noble?

His son’s name will already carry honor.

So if the son can receive positively from his father, he can also receive negatively.

But that just doesn’t seem fair.

Was it fair that he received the good?

Young Majeska thought in silence.

These things are fact. We give our offspring responsibility for all they receive. They can increase or squander their father’s fortunes. They can disgrace his nobility or redeem his disgrace.

But isn’t righteousness and honor the matter of his own heart.

The integrity is truly his own to prove or destroy, but his activities are also credited to his family name.

She returned from her musing with a start. Strange that it was Jembra who had taught her about honor. Justice was so complicated. She was glad that the gift of Sight had receded from her, and she didn’t have to sit in judgment as she had been groomed to do. She had never really wanted to be an Overseer like her teacher.  She had only desired to learn the lore of the Travelers. Their knowledge and purpose were more experiential. While she could see the benefit of the moral understanding she had gained through her studies under Jembra, using the Catalyst and the Vision to judge others seemed very dangerous to her. The level of personal discretion and the power it afforded an Overseer scared her. Jembra had always reminded her that this judgment was to be guided by the Great One, just as she herself believed Travel on the Catalyst was.

But one surrenders their will necessarily when Traveling. One could be tempted to assert one's own will in judgment, couldn’t they? Just look at Jembra now.

Her thoughts returned to Gabrell. I must tell him what I know.

I need him to tell me too. How did it happen? Who took him away? Was he taken Under? How did he break free? For the millionth time she pushed down these questions.

She sighed wistfully, then jumped up driven by anxiety. If I don’t get to him soon, he may be taken Down again.

---

Gabrell woke to the morning call of a bird. The sound was lonely, reaching into the whisper of dawn. He felt its voice as his own—calling its solitary message, longing for an answer. As he stood watching light seep into the day, desire for companionship bled into his being as the scarlet into the sky. All at once a cacophony of bird song joined the one—not so much an answer as a deluge of sound. It pulled him from his pining into active seeking once more.

Gathering as much fruit as he could carry, he removed the sash from around his waist. The sturdy fabric would serve as a good pouch when folded. He tied it and slung it over one shoulder crossing his bare chest. He fastened the pouch with his large silver and obsidian brooch for safe keeping.

Unable to solve the problem of carrying water, he decided to follow the creek. He set out downstream full of hope.

In the late afternoon he emerged from the trees. He heard a loud rushing of water ahead. He gasped as a line of cobalt sea appeared in the distance. Reaching the land’s end, he stood by the gushing water fall and surveyed the view from the dizzying height. At its foot a narrow slice of sand was lapped by waves. He noticed a dark shape on the sand. It didn’t have the enormous girth of the cube, but did seem to have the same light-absorbing quality. Purpose leaped up in him again.

Gabrell spotted a break in the cliff edge over a steep but negotiable platform. There were switchbacks below it that could take him to the beach. He scrambled down to the sandy shore.

The touch of his palms against it confirmed this was the same oddly warm material as the large Block. He had little daylight left. Sitting down in the shade with his back to the side, he again conjured the image of golden-brown hair. After meditating for some time, he stopped in frustration. Nothing.

He was flustered and desperate. Facing the cliff, now rosy and gold in the sun’s final rays, his mind flew. What am I suppose to do?

He went around to another side of the Block and sat facing the sea. The waves, blood red, spread out before him. The sun’s dying light showed him rusted in slumped despair against the wall of the Block. His mind slipped away over the sea which lapped into his consciousness, and back he fell into the Block’s dark, calming deep.

Gabrell Saw an image of the sea, bright aqua, pavilions of turquoise with gold and shining yellow gathered in a huddle on a distant curve of beach. The sea turned dark and there was no sign of shore. He felt the night and Saw a man, much like himself, brown and strong, lying in the bottom of a row boat. There was a sense of overwhelming fear that seemed to last forever. The black sea became solid. In place of the boat there was a vast doorway. It was lined in finely carved Blocks of stone,heavy and enduring. Torches burned at its mouth and a stairway of stone ran down its throat seeming to disappear into the depths. All went dark.

THREE

Light grew, and Gabrell found himself lying on a moist bed of plants staring up at a canopy of wide-bladed leaves. He heard a litany of bird calls. The humid air was fragrant with decay and the sweet smell of exotic fruit. He sat up nearly hitting a bright bird as it swiped by. A flash of yellow, black and white became a sleek creature as it lighted on a palmetto nearby. It called—almost a word he could understand—then flew away into the noisy, bustling growth beyond.

He wondered as he moved through the dense forest if this might be the place that Majeska was from. Her clothing implied a warm climate, and it was the same vibrant red as the bird that hopped along with him.

The bird led him to where there was an opening in the canopy above, and he saw that it framed a wide pool in the forest floor. He walked to the slender thread of moving water that drained lazily into the pond. Cupping his hand he dipped it under a miniature falls that slid slowly over a rock and pulled a drink from the stream. As he touched the water, a scattering of tiny, neon-bright frogs shot off in several directions.

He drank his fill and began eating some of the soft fruit he had gathered as he walked. He became woozy and was overwhelmed by the urge to sleep. He gave in lying on his side. Eased by the smooth ground, he passed quickly into a dream.

He Saw a man that looked much like himself stealing furtively along the corridor of a richly appointed building. He entered a chamber with high, ornamented ceilings and a long, dark wooden table flanked with high-backed carved chairs. The man moved to its far end and then stopped, gazing at an enormous scroll that was mounted with obvious reverence on the wall at the table’s head. The massive Blocks of writing were inscrutable.

The man glanced down a moment, then turned and deftly moved the head chair closer to the wall. With quick determination he stepped upon it and worked to remove the great piece from its place. He muttered as he did so, I see no other way. I must go. I tried to find the door. It was no use. I’ve got to make them send me. I’m sorry. I see no other way. As he rolled the scroll he muttered again. He hefted it into his arms, and as he turned through the doorway he seemed to plead, I’m sorry.

Gabrell awoke with his heart pounding. He felt ill and afraid. He sat up, disoriented and then recognized the remains of a soft fruit in his hand. He threw it and all others like it away from him. He wished no more disturbing dreams.

He walked out onto a thatch of fallen tree limbs that extended into the pool, wondering what to do next. It was getting dark. He removed his shoes.  Perhaps the touch of the smooth boughs would ease his troubled mind and give him clarity. Sitting down, he cautiously lowered the soles of both feet into the pond. They shot up in surprise; he had quickly hit bottom. Lowering them again with his legs apart he nearly toppled into the water as one heel rested on something and the other fell in. He explored more carefully with his toes and found a firm uneven object under the water. It gave him that feeling of living temperature and comfort that he felt when his palms touched the dark Block.

He debated a moment whether he should leave this place, irrationally convinced he was a stone’s throw away from Majeska’s home. Then he imagined the ensuing night. Since the Blocks were appearing frequently, he allowed himself to believe that he could always find another one. He outlined a wide space on top of the Block by touch and then stepped onto it. He parted his stance and meditated for awhile. Nothing. He realized he would have to try his body against it. He stripped off his clothes and added them to his shoes, securing all his goods into one bundle.

Holding his belongings straight out in front of him, he squatted, then tipped back till he sat on the Block. Gabrell held the precious package above the dark water, beginning to meditate. He lay back and down until the two circles of his arms and the large oval of his face were the only breaks in the water’s surface. Deep in thought, he submerged his face and pushed his shoulders down bringing his body tight to the Block. He fell into blessed, dry, peaceful darkness. He Traveled like this for awhile feeling his arms extending outward while in the velvety, comforting transport. A brief Glimpse of a blue-tiled courtyard, and then he found himself lying on close-cropped grass with the moon and stars glittering overhead.

---

As he sat up, he was surprised to see a large dark Block. He was next to a high iron fence covered in carefully cultivated thorny vines.

I know this type of place! At last! Civilization.

Anxiously walking along the fence, he feared he might be shut out from the company he so craved. All at once, he passed an opening. He was elated. The great gates were swung wide and welcoming. But as he entered through them he had a sudden sense of foreboding. Feeling like a trespasser, he crossed the premises tiptoeing like a thief in the darkness.

Ba-boom! His heart stopped. Boom Ba-ba-ba-ba-boom! Drums shook the air. He dove behind a square-trimmed bush, strangely terrified. Finally he crept to where the rhythm sprung from. Boom!

He peeked from the shadows into a vibrant ring of firelight. A dark woman swung mallets to the drum, Ba-ba-boom. Ba-ba-ba-ba-boom! Three masked figures were at an angle to him facing a raging bonfire. They wore intricate robes embroidered with colorful fibers. The complex, sewn patterns looked like some kind of language. Their collars and hems were edged with many rows of beads—shining glass and yellowed bone. Their bare brown feet were delicately female. Their smooth black masks were tall and sleek, finely made and chilling. The first seemed lost in a frightful dream. The next mocked with a cruel grin. The third was caught in a staring scream.

Gabrell drew back a bit, hiding from the blind eyes. His mind echoed a memory of spinning out of control. He was dizzy a moment, his consciousness reeling.

Ba-boom, the drum continued, Ba-ba-boom. Boom boom boom boom, the rhythm steadied and so did his focus. Another figure appeared. She stepped slowly into the fire lit courtyard, regal and terrible. Her mask was also tall and black, but began at the crown of her head, leaving her dark-skinned, paint-enhanced face exposed. The features—majestic and sharp—were an evil backdrop for the horror of her eyes. They were completely black—so dark they did not even reflect the firelight. Yet somehow he knew they saw with piercing clarity. He drew back again trying to control his inexplicably intense fear. Eventually he could no longer resist peering out. Boom boom boom boom. The mask, frozen in cold judgment, hovered over her hideous face. It sat on a headdress of glass and bone beads—black feathers framing her face like unruly hair. Her hooded robes were also black, embroidered in ivory-colored glyphs that resembled the others’. The hem and collar were beaded in glass and bone, but were overshadowed by an extraordinary pendant hanging from a silver chain—a rounded piece of obsidian set in silver.

She stopped, bare feet wide apart on the earth and paused dramatically. Her hands flung out to the sides, palms out. Silence. She moved them slowly to the front of her turning her palms up, and the drums boomed again. A young man entered.

Gabrell sucked in his breath. He looks so much like me!

His mind swam again in another deep echo of fear. He wore the same kind of breeches as Gabrell with a sash fastened at the waist by a turquoise stone set in silver. A wide collar of glass and turquoise was about his neck, and a turquoise earring adorned his left ear. Gabrell reached up quietly and touched an empty hole in his own ear. The man’s hair was shorter than his, but was bound similarly. Even the face matched many features Gabrell had seen reflected in the dark pool earlier that day, but it was fuller—lips tighter, brow not quite as strong. The man carried a small pack over his shoulder as though he intended a short journey.

He watched, transfixed as the man approached the woman’s outstretched hands. He carried something—a small Block, emanating darkness. Going down on his knees, he offered it to her. She accepted it on her left hand. Then, Boom! her right hand struck upwards. Boom! An opening appeared in the midst of the still-burning fire. As she gazed hard into the face of the man, he rose.

Is he moved by her will? She seems to be some kind of priestess.

The man paused, turned away from her and walked steadfastly into the fire, into the opening, and went downward. He receded step by step sinking into a dark hole and seemed to disappear into the depths of the ground.

Gabrell spun away behind a bush, blood rushing in his ears. This could be me! Was this me? What if they see me!

He ran stealthily back to the gate. It was closed!

Trapped! Do they know I’m here?

He crept along as close to the high fence as he could while staying obscured from the ceremony’s site. He passed like a shadow through the immaculately kept gardens, sweeping along arched walkways and tiled courtyards. He jumped, startled by a light! With relief, he realized it was just the moon. It winked up at him reflected on the surface of a great fountain.

At last reaching the back of the grounds he found a narrow break in the thorns. A small gate was nestled in the gap. It swung easily, and he was free! He ran all out, unable to stop himself. He ran to blind exhaustion. He instinctively turned into a group of trees. The moon winked again, as he collapsed near the shore of a glimmering lake.

After a time Gabrell started awake and saw the moon low through the trees. Its light sparkled in a line toward him. Water! He rose and went to the edge of the lake, cupping his hands to drink long and deep. He peeled some of the firmer fruit he had kept and swallowed it gratefully, and then moved further into the shelter of the trees. He slept like there was no tomorrow and dreamed of no yesterday.

FOUR

Majeska went out to the garden at the dawn of day. Stealing across the blue tiles of the courtyard, her bare feet made no sound. She reached the tiled rim of the pool and began her slow turn around its ring. Pacing, she looked down and then at the sky, reaching out with her mind, trying to divine the whereabouts of the man she loved. She sighed, momentarily wishing for that gift of Sight she had as a child.

She had returned to the Void twice—briefly—but had seen no trace of Gabrell. Doubt had tugged at her without mercy. Perhaps he had died like so many others. But she had seen no body.

He has Traveled in the past, so why shouldn’t he Travel now? Forcing her fear aside she decided to move her search into the world of time.

She struggled to anticipate where the Catalyst would guide him. Though the uninitiated consider it random, her experience had shown a definite pattern to destinations. The Sisterhood and the Overseers hinted at some ability to direct it. But her teaching went against all thought of trying to control one’s destination—the Travelers believing you are guided by destiny and need.

Most believe your destination is in the hands of the Great One. And even those that consider the source of the guidance unknown respect it utterly. You will go where you need to be, she quoted. But I ‘m not where I need to be. I just have to find Gabrell, and he needs me. The Great One would not wish him to die.

---

She was too impatient to wait on guidance and determined to do anything in her power to coerce the Catalyst to take her to him. Training or no training. If only she could think where he would go. She paced on. No answer came. The sun climbed overhead, and she pulled her sari from her shoulder and slid it from her body. She cast it aside and resolutely entered the pool. Falling back, she lay on the welcoming water and began swimming. She glided on the mirror-like surface meditating, Reaching, swimming.

The rainforest. When your heart aches, the Catalyst often takes you there. He’s bound to feel lost and afraid. He’ll get there if he reaches nowhere else.

She had been there many times. She was quite sure she could go right now. She left the water. Picking up her yellow-green sari, she hurried to the dark Block in the corner of the garden. Leaning her back on it, she gave in to her sorrow. Her mind eased as she fell into its sweet black interior. With desire and pain in her heart she arrived at her hoped for destination. The pool in the midst of the plants and birds appeared as she emerged on top of the Block in the water, her clothing held out above her. She stood and stepped onto the mat of tree trunks. Putting on her sari, she peered with hope into the trees about her.

Ta-wheep, Ttck-ttck-ttck-ttck, ta-wheep. The familiar bird sounds came to her ears—but no voice. No man. She sighed. Water dripped from nearby leaves into the pool. She echoed this, indulging her disappointment with a tear, then focused on her search once again.

If he came here he would follow the stream. She walked to its mouth.

Oh! Footprints in the mud. Worn shoes. They could be his, but how can I be sure?

Frogs scattered as she leaned down to read the ground more completely. The prints led to the pool but did not lead away. A small piece of bright fruit caught her eye. She wished for a fleeting moment to consume one and slip into forgetful sleep, but she resisted the urge to escape. She returned to the mat and hurried to the hidden Block, assuming he must have used this piece of the Catalyst to Travel out. She removed her sari once again and laid back into the water—willing herself to follow Gabrell. She sat up disappointed. She had Traveled home.

---

Gabrell reached for consciousness, and then snapped awake. He shivered though the sun was already high. He was afraid to wander here.

How can I get away from this evil place? …The Block near her gate! Fear ran through him as he knew he must return to the last place he wanted to go.

The details of his run to the lake were vague, but he thought he could determine the basic direction. He drank his fill and ate some of his precious fruit from friendlier places. Keeping to the trees, he worked his way to where he remembered leaving the gated garden. Other than his own anxiety, he met nothing on his stealthy journey back to the Block.

He sat, desperately