Time Dancer III

By Robert William Hult

As Bing Brown continues learning advanced magic to counter the nefarious Council of Ten, Lila Rendettta learns about her Merazian heritage on a water planet like Earth. She reconciliates with her mendacious father, Adabega, who has been recuperating in the House of Dragon's Fountain of Youth. While Bing continues learning advanced magic from

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Mulberry Books
• Release date: Oct 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781950850587

Robert William Hult

Robert William Hult has lived a long life filled with many different kinds of adventures. He has been a scholar, an explorer, a marine animal and bird trainer, an accomplished novelist, a retailer, and a submariner. Many of his exploits are the subjects of his novels. Robert believes not only in faith, but in total preparation, and if not for both, and an intervention here and there, some of his adventures surely would have ended in death. In fact, he has already survived a dozen near death experiences.

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Time Dancer and the Power of Imagination

Copyright © 2019 by Robert William Hult.

This book is written to provide information and motivation to readers. Its purpose is not render any type of psychological, legal, or professional advice of any kind. The content is the sole opinion and expression of the author, and not necessarily that of the publisher.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, including, but not limited to, recording, photocopying, or taking screenshots of parts of the book, without prior written permission from the author or the publisher. Brief quotations for noncommercial purposes, such as book reviews, permitted by Fair Use of the U.S. Copyright Law, are allowed without written permissions, as long as such quotations do not cause damage to the book’s commercial value. For permissions, write to the publisher, whose address is stated below.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018959179

ISBN-13: 978-1-950850-59-4 [Paperback]

978-1-950850-58-7 [Digital]

Printed in the United States of America.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As I stated in Time Dancer 1 , although the characters in these stories are fictitious, the setting, the Met-how Valley, is a real place, known, loved, and visited by hundreds of thousands of people every year. For a hundred years, miners, farmers and foresters have called it, God’s High Country. Translated from the Salish language of the Native Americans who first settled the valley, Met-how means the gathering place or the meeting place, which is appropriate since Bing Brown, the hero of our stories, meets his first mentor, Tammud Tammur, in the Met-how Valley. Here is where the author spent more than half of his adult life, working and playing alongside local people. And although Bing spends a great deal of his time in the Fourth Dimension during his often exotic adventures, he always comes back to the Met-how Valley, the place he calls home, which the author did as well.

As in the first book in this series, I have changed some of the names of locations in the Met-how Valley so that future events do not significantly impact residents, current and future. For a long time, the Met-how Valley has been a mecca for cross-country skiers, mountaineers, hikers, hunters, fishermen, and tourists.

I wish to acknowledge Frances Fay Brewster, a loving, devoted companion for thirty years, who backed-up this work in many different ways. Frances passed in 2009.

I also wish to thank Stephen Frank Hult, a younger brother, who lives with me and has taken on many duties, which has allowed me the free time from some of my responsibilities to continue to work on the Time Dancer series of books.

As I wrote this complex story, I met a couple of wonderful illustrators. The first was Paul Gruwell, an ex-Disney and Hanna Barbera artist, who illustrated the first two black and white illustrations in Time Dancer 1 as well as those in this book. Before Paul died, he would draw and I would look over his shoulder, asking him to do this or that to a particular drawing.

My second illustrator, Rob Carlos, (Colorsmith.com) and I have worked over a decade together, producing many more illustrations. Rob colorized some of Paul’s work for a later edition of the Time Dancer series. The Time Dancer Trilogy, one of these future projects, will employ Rob’s colorized illustrations.

The covers of this industry standard, cheaper version of Time Dancer 1 and 2 and 3 were produced in-house by Okir Publishing. Time Dancer 3 was produced by The Mulberry Books.

Robert William Hult

Author and Publisher

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The Met-how River near Winthrop

CHAPTER ONE

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Aarabus, the Albino Dragon

There is only so much a human body can take. Bing Brown’s had found its limit when his head hit his pillow. But the mind is a curious thing. When it latches onto or launches some new idea, it has a tendency to follow it, where ever it leads, awake or asleep, regardless of the rest of the body’s participation. So it occurred for Bing Brown as he was, at this moment, entering a calm state of astral projection. His mind was now sure there was more than one reality as it had already twice been to his Fourth Dimension bedroom. It had met his 4th Earth parents, although it had not yet met his dimensional double. However, Bing’s mind was eager to do it. As a result, while his tired body recuperated, his active mind reached out beyond his bedroom, beyond space, through time. It again stretched all the way to his dimensional double’s bedroom.

Bing found himself considering writing a note. His mind’s eye looked around the familiar day-shot room where he had figured out the extreme time ratio between the Fourth and Third Dimensions. On the dressing table, he found a tablet that had not been there on his previous visit.

Through a magical conjuration, he transferred his thoughts to the tablet:

Hi, this is Bing Brown. I know you exist, but I don’t know your name. I would like to talk with you. Maybe there’s some way we could work together to solve a terrible mutual problem. Please, get in touch with me as soon as possible. In fact, write me back.

The bedroom door opened. Bing’s mind’s eye floated to the ceiling of the room. He saw his dimensional double, an average- looking teenage boy. But instead of the long black hair Bing branded, this person sported black, short-cut, styled hair. He was also not wearing a plaid flannel shirt, but rather, a brown pullover sweater and a pair of nicely cut dark blue slacks. And not tennis shoes, either, but common brown street shoes. The boy saw the unfamiliar writing on the tablet—certainly not his. His black eyes studied the note. He wondered how words had gotten on the tablet. To see what would happen, he wrote a rapid reply beneath the original.

I have heard much about you, Mr. Brown. You seem quite astute. Rarely does someone from your dimension make it into mine. You appear to be causing me quite a bit of trouble lately. I do think a meeting of minds would be a good idea if not for your sake, then for mine.

He signed his reply Bing 4 and left the room. Bing’s mind’s eye floated down like a feather from the ceiling to read the response.

Peter Brown came into Bing’s room, determined to wake up his son. As the father shoved his son’s shoulders back and forth, the boy’s astral mind speedily retreated back into his sleeping body.

Bing, you’ve slept an hour longer. Twenty-five hours— It’s time you woke up.

The boy took a sudden sharp, deep breath.

Please, Bing, there’s an enormous white dragon curled up on the side porch, and he’s terribly difficult to get around. I don’t know how to get rid of him, and I’m afraid to think of what Jim and Karen will say if they come over.

A white dragon? asked Bing, fluttering both eyes and opening his left one slowly.

Yes, the one that arrived before you did. The one you said was an illusion. It’s no illusion, son. It’s as real as you or me. Your mother is not frightened of it anymore. It seems gentle enough, but I just don’t know what to do about it. It’s not as tractable as your flying horse. The dragon won’t leave. Peter sighed heavily.

Bing let out a long yawn and opened his other eye. He shook his head rapidly. Okay, I’m awake. A white dragon, huh? Well, I’m starving. What’s for breakfast?

Sorry to disappoint you, son. It’s dinnertime.

Dinnertime, huh? You said I’d slept twenty-five hours? Bing did a quick calculation. That would be about ten years and four months in 4th Dimension time. Geez, dad, I’ll bet a lot has happened in the Fourth D since I’ve been sleeping.

This new life of yours must be exhausting, Bing.

So far, for sure, dad. I don’t seem to have gotten a handle on the sleep requirements yet. There’s always so much to do. It might help me if I was Thomas Edison. I’ve read that he was so manic, he only needed two or three hours of sleep a night.

So far you seem to be holding your own. Peter switched tracks. I got a call from Jim. It appears you’ve been sharing some interesting information with him.

The boy sat up and leaned against the wall, propping his pillow behind his lower back. He ran both hands through his long black hair.

Oh, that? Yeah, dad. I figured you had enough on your plate with selling the stuff Lila brought over and the things I’ll be bringing back. You shouldn’t have to worry about anything else.

War-related materials sound pretty serious, son. But right now it’s the problem on the porch that worries me. I’m sure you’re the only one who can solve that one.

Bing rubbed his misty eyes, bumping his head against the yellow pine wall.

So there really is a white dragon on the patio?

Peter nodded. He seems to be content to lay by the side door, all wrapped around himself.

Is it a male or a female?

I have no idea, said Peter. All I know for sure is that it isn’t an illusion. I’ve touched it.

What did it do?

It just opened one eye and stared at me.

Huh. That’s all?

You seem disappointed, Bing.

He snickered. Not really. I just don’t know much about dragons yet. That’s all.

Well, it did do one more thing, Peter offered. It went back to sleep.

It went back to sleep?

It’s been asleep as long as you have. Maybe you two are sharing the same sleep rhythm. You know, this could be severe if friends decide to come to visit, Peter reiterated, in case Bing hadn’t heard the first time.

What would I say to them? "

You know this job has a lot of weirdness in it, dad. Bing got out of bed and looked for something to put on over his jockey shorts. He found a clean pair of jeans in the closet and another long sleeved flannel plaid shirt, this one brown and white.

Dad, some time would you have mom buy me some other kind of shirt besides plaid flannel? You know, striped, or something— anything. He found a rubber band on his dresser and started putting his long hair back into a ponytail.

Peter laughed. I think she buys them because they wash so well. He watched Bing leisurely put on the rest of his clothes.

The dragon tried to say something to us a couple of times before it went to sleep. Of course, I had no idea what it was trying to convey.

Dragonese takes a particular translation spell to understand it, said Bing with certainty.

Peter stood by as his son slipped on his wool socks and sneakers that were dry to the touch.

You said it’s near the side door on the patio?

Right in front of it. We can barely get around it.

If this ever happens again and I’m not here, and someone does come by, just pretend it’s a figment of their imagination. Don’t acknowledge. That way the visitor will think he’s crazy and not you. He slipped a brown woven belt through the belt loops.

You mean we can expect more of this?

I said it’s a weird job, dad. I never know what’s going to happen. Anything might follow me home. Remember, this is the second dragon. The first one wasn’t so nice.

You mean—Adabega?

The son nodded, leading the way downstairs.

Bing could see Molly curled up in her dad’s chair, watching cartoons on the cartoon channel. He waved a high sign at her. She waved back. He could see his mom busy in the kitchen as he continued toward the side door. When Bing opened it, he did find a dragon; it was white. The beast had its tail wrapped around him like some humongous cold weather dog. It lay partly on the porch and partly on the sawdust that had years before been a lawn.

Bing slipped out onto the side porch, his father trailing close behind.

The dragon raised his large white head and blinked bright pink eyes. Long white eyelashes fluttered as he watched Bing look him over.

It’s not only white, it’s an albino, said son to father. How rare is that? I’ve heard about an albino dragon.

Bing cast a Dragonese Translation Spell upon the giant creature. Hello, I’m Bing Brown, he said, motioning at himself. This is my father. He pointed to Peter. Who are you?

The dragon let loose a string of lispy sounds that Peter could now also understand.

I am AAR—A—BUS.

Bing had to laugh.

Air—a—bus? I’ve heard that name before. Where?

The dragon didn’t see the humor. He cocked his head sidewise and peered at Bing through squinted eyes, then, saying, I have come here because I need your protection.

Protection? From me—a teenager?

Bing turned to his father to say, I remember now— King Barthalamew’s dad, Garrick, said there was once an albino dragon in their Nordica clan. That’s where I’ve heard the name—Airabus. This is the albino. I’ll be darned. Bing turned back to the big beast that the boy judged to be six meters tall to the top of his white spiked head. Was that you?

The albino nodded, slowly and deliberately. I feared for my freedom when the dragon catchers came. I fled to far-off places.

The boy thought about it. Yeah, I guess I would, too. Peter was all ears.

What makes you think I can protect you? I’m only a kid.

The news of your powers has spread everywhere I have been, said Aarabus. If you cannot protect me, there is certainly no one else who can.

Bing turned to his father to fill him in.

King Barthalamew is this young Nordica dragon I saved from Snitch. Snitch called him Do. Do did household chores for Snitch. Now Do’s back home with his family, learning how to be a king. His parents and I have kind of well—bonded. I got to fly his father. It was maybe even better than riding Pegasus.

I see, said the confused father. And now this dragon feels he needs your protection. I would think a dragon could protect itself.

I guess not, said the son, turning his attention back to the visitor. Why do you think you need my protection?

Garrick sent me word the dragon catchers are back. They desire to take me to their dragon zoo, but that is not how I want to spend my life. I have a bad case of claustrophobia. I have the same problem with caves, caverns and other enclosed places. My kind usually is fond of them.

Yeah, I guess I can see how that would put you at a disadvantage, all right. And you’re white, of course. You’d stick out in most surroundings—except snow. Bing thought he discovered a solution to the beast’s problems.

You know, there are a lot of white animals who live in the north country—arctic foxes, snowshoe hares, lemmings, ptarmigans, snowy owls, ermines, arctic wolves. They blend in just fine in the snow. Have you thought about giving that a possibility? You’d be hard to find curled up in the snow like one of those animals.

I have tried. It is too cold for me because I am a reptile. Also, being an albino, my eyes are far too sensitive to the intense light. No, the far north is not for me. I fare best in temperate and tropical climates.

Well then, added Bing, you do have a problem because you can’t possibly camouflage yourself in those places. I’ve seen pictures. There’s too much brown, green and red. White is too much of a contrast. And you’re tall for what I’ve seen of Nordica dragons. Another reason you’d stand out.

Aarabus nodded. These are all reasons Garrick suggested I come to you. He said you enjoyed your ride on him. He suggested I might become your transportation while you protect me. We could become symbiotic.

Symbiotic, huh? Bing knew the word from his science studies. Well, hmm. I did love that ride. Bing, silent in thought, shook his head slowly, and then said. Let me think about it. He turned on his heels, sweeping past his father, going back inside the house.

Peter looked up at the dragon, waggled his head, rolled his eyes, and followed his son inside. What’s there to think about?

First off, that creature might be one of the anthro’s spies, said Bing, turning around.

I know someone or something is watching me. I can feel it. I had a running battle with ghouls not long ago. Somehow they found me. They had it in their minds to capture me. They couldn’t. And I don’t need transportation. I get in and out of the Fourth Dimension and the Timestream just fine by myself these days. And I sure don’t need any more enemies. I’ve got enough already. By trying to protect that dragon, if he is who I think he is, I might even run up against Lila’s people. They’re from the Fifth Dimension. I don’t even know what that means. But I do know they’re dragon catchers.

But he thinks he needs your help, Bing.

I’ll do something to help him. I just don’t know what. He headed off toward the kitchen. Right now, though, I can’t think. I’m really starving.

Peter followed, ready to fire a few more seemingly important questions.

Bing sneaked up behind his mother warming up stew on the stove. He hugged her from behind. Hello, you beautiful mother. What’s for dinner?

She twisted to look at him, saying, Good evening, Bing Brown bear. How was your hibernation? Your father said he was going to wake you. I’m cooking beef stew. Is that all right?

Mom, you know it’s one of my favorites. He squeezed her tenderly and kissed her behind the neck. She snuggled into him.

Would you mind a little company for dinner? her son asked from behind. He held up his left thumb and forefinger and spread them about ten centimeters apart.

Linda looked suspicious, although she didn’t say anything.

Bing released her and went back outside the front door to give the visitor an invitation. Peter followed him out, eager to see what his son would do next. The albino stood rigidly upright, nearly was as tall as the peak of the house.

Airabus, are you hungry? The huge reptile nodded.

Peter wondered what Bing would feed the creature.

Mind if I reduce your size? asked the young wizard. We couldn’t possibly feed you otherwise. Our kitchen is way too small for you."

The dragon replied that he had no objection.

To Peter’s surprise, when Bing said, Here goes— DUP-LUS DUP-LUS DIM-IN-U-EN-DUS, the marsupial-reptile shrank to only ten centimeters tall.

Bing was delighted and turned to his father. I wasn’t sure this spell would work here. So much of the magic I’ve learned doesn’t work in our world. I never know what will or what won’t. Sometimes I just have to try a spell and find out. TD said that when he made the potion work through me, I would be able to do things in my world, and in other places, that no-one else could. I’m finding he was right. Bing allowed the albino dragon to walk into the palm of his right hand. The boy carried the tiny dragon to the dinner table where Aarabus slid off. Molly had already seated herself in her chair. She was delighted by the animated toy avoiding the setting down of plates, napkins, and silverware, which Bing began putting down. When Linda came in carrying the pot of stew, she fumbled and nearly dropped it, seeing the miniature white dragon wandering around on the table.

Bing Brown! she barked.

Our little dinner guest, said the son, grinning, shifting blame, pointing to his father. Dad said he wanted him off the front porch. Bing set out a white saucer for Aarabus near his plate. Airabus really won’t eat much at this size.

Linda looked toward the ceiling. Heaven help me. Please! She set the pot on the hot pad on the table and watched as the dragon sat on his haunches, wings folded, near the saucer close to Bing’s dinner plate.

The family spent dinner watching the albino gobble up small pieces of meat, carrots, celery and potatoes. Despite his split tongue, he lapped up broth like a cat. When Aarabus finished, he curled up beside the saucer for a snooze.

Looks comfortable, doesn’t he, Bing remarked, continuing his dinner.

Bing’s parent’s talked with him about the appraisal of Lila’s treasure. Linda said she had contacted the jewelry store owner downtown and had brought him one piece—a marquis cut green emerald. They were waiting for the results. Bing talked with his father about the name for their on-line store—Last Trading Post.net. Peter liked it and said he would work out a computer banner for the business and set up the for-sale categories. Bing suggested making them as broad as possible since he didn’t know what he’d be bringing back through the stream of time. Nor did he know how much of anything he’d be bringing. Cultural antiques they decided would be one good category.

And don’t forget to tie in our eBay offerings—funnierfarm— dad, to our online store.

Peter nodded.

You still have TD’s journal, right? asked the son.

It’s right here in my back pocket, Bing. I’ve been keeping it as close to me as possible in case your Snatch creature comes back. He retrieved it, handing it over.

Well, asked Bing anxiously, did you read anything interesting?

"I couldn’t understand a thing, Bing. Everything seems to be in some sort of code.

Yeah, knowing TD that would be right, said Bing. He loved secrecy. He flipped through the pages. Hmm. It isn’t Hecteneny. It’s some other code. If Lila could read it, she must have figured it out. That means I can, too, but I can’t do it here. I’ll need to go back to the cabin to do it.

After dinner, Molly wanted to play with the little reptile, but Bing insisted Aarabus was not a toy and promptly took the little guy upstairs to his bedroom. Once there, the astral experience came back to him. His curiosity piqued.

I wonder if I finally had an out-of-body-experience? TD said it would happen when I learned more about time bending.

Since Bing wasn’t planning anything else in the evening except going back to the magical mansion to decipher TD’s journal, he decided that visiting his dimensional double’s bedroom in person might be a worthwhile use of time. He explained to Aarabus exactly what he intended to do. The two went outside where Bing transformed Aarabus back to his original size. The dragon wanted to become smaller so he could hide more easily in the nearby forest.

Sure, said Bing, diminishing the dragon’s size by two-thirds. Better now?

The albino gave a lispy, Thanksss.

I’ll be back soon and we’ll talk some more, Airabus.

With a precision place, date and time catalyst, Bing arrived in the middle of his dimensional double’s 4th Earth bedroom. When Bing looked over at the bed, a young man who resembled him was staring into space. Bing noticed the other’s short-cut black hair.

Seemingly shocked at first from a visitor from the ether, the teenager’s eyes met Bing’s. So you’re my body double. What’s with the ponytail? He smiled. Not bad. I wouldn’t have thought of that.

I haven’t worn short hair since I was twelve, said Bing. The ponytail keeps it out of my eyes. Unfortunately, though, long hair has sometimes gotten me into a lot of trouble.

Bing 4 rose off the bed and came over to shake hands, a warm and friendly greeting.

I’m Bing Brown, said Bing 4. What do you call yourself?

Bing Brown, also, replied the other. Both laughed. I guess we are similar in some respects. I wonder how close we are.

For the next few minutes of Fourth Dimension time, they rattled off their likes and dislikes, their parents’ interests, and the names of their friends and past girlfriends. Like twins, some things matched; some things didn’t.

I’ve studied your Third Dimension in school, said Bing 4. Do you still have internal combustion engines?

Yeah. You don’t?

No, we scrapped all of ours, said Bing 4. We mostly use hydrogen powered or electromagnetically powered vehicles these days. They are quieter than gasoline guzzlers. Also, they don’t need petroleum-based fuels, which are carbon polluters.

But awhile back, I saw a car in your carport that looks exactly like the one we drive right now? said Bing.

Bing 4 replied, It’s an excellent design. We re-engineered it. Now it runs electromagnetically. Most of our highways have invisible electromagnetic strips embedded in them. With their onboard computers, our cars pretty much drive themselves. Decades ago, we found out that hydrocarbons would eventually cause catastrophic global warming, so we switched to electromagnetism and biological modes of transportation.

You went back to horses? asked Bing, looking surprised.

No, other biologics. Dragons and gryphons—mainly—

Really?

In my dimension, said Bing 4, flying reptiles evolved along with smaller flying birds. One species of dragons became marsupials, like some of your mammals did. Some of our dragons are very smart. And flying mounts don’t pollute. At least, not in the same way. He laughed and held his nose.

"Say, I guess what you call biologics are what I’ve been using here, too, said Bing. For awhile, I had this winged white horse, but recently this great white albino dragon showed up. I’m considering using him."

The albino? asked Bing 4, suddenly excited. Yeah, how did you know?

There’s a lot of discussion about him—and you, the other replied. Some people think that it’s me doing all these incredible things. You wouldn’t believe the people who are coming to my door, expecting me to do miracles on them.

Wow. I would never have considered, said Bing reflecting.

You seem to have accomplished quite a range of important things in a very short time, Bing 4 added. The ghoul king, Herit Garayaka, is out for my—your— blood because so many members of his clan have vanished. The Devil— He tried to have me kidnapped.

Really? said Bing. What happened?

I got wind of it and found a temporary hiding place.

I’m not going to ask where, said Bing. But if you need another place, I’ve got a good one.

They discussed the cantrip cabin; it particularly intrigued Bing’s body double.

You and I seem to have more in common than I would have suspected, parallel universe, higher dimension or not, said Bing.

Maybe so, but since you’ve involved me already, perhaps there’re ways I can help, said Bing 4. I already have a feeling for what you’re up against.

Bing considered the implications, too quickly deciding, If I can’t trust you, I can’t imagine who I can trust.

For another few minutes, they discussed how to help each other. To accomplish anything, they would have to be virtual twins in every possible respect. Since it would take Bing’s doppelganger about a year to grow his hair longer, Bing reluctantly decided he needed a haircut. His double said he would do the barbering.

The boys quizzed each other about other things. Bing knew spell-casting; Bing 4 only knew a few spells and those pertained to learning information quickly. Bing 4 was deeper into understanding the various natures of dimensional reality. To make sure Bing understood, Bing 4 defined the difference between a parallel universe and a higher dimension.

Generally speaking, a higher dimension involves things you can’t see, whereas a parallel universe is involved with things and events in life you would see if you were in one. But there really is a lot more to it than that. In some cases, a parallel universe and a higher dimension can substantially overlap.

It was at that moment that Bing realized he had simultaneously entered both; it was the place where a parallel universe and a higher dimension apparently did overlap. He was in such an alternate reality only because of his use of a unique blend and use of magic. A lot of things were beginning to make more sense.

You’ll absolutely know you’re in a parallel universe if I’m not in it, Bing 4 concluded.

Bing showed his counterpart the BKA and TD’s journal. Bing 4 quickly employed the right spells that made the journal readable. Bing was amazed to see that TD had gone to such lengths to keep the contents of the journal secret. He was shocked to read about Costanza and Lila’s birth. No wonder Lila was so angry, said Bing. I guess I would have been, too, if I had found out about all that by myself.

I would like to meet her, said Bing 4. She seems to have a lot of spark.

Not just spark— said Bing. —fire! She’s truly amazing. Once she got going, you should have seen the way she took to time dancing.

Bing was quiet for a time, sitting on the bed, looking around. Everything in this room was the same as it was in his room, down to the hand-quilted star bedspread on which they were sitting. In his astral projection, on his previous visit to the room, the suroundings hadn’t been nearly so close.

I know you’re thinking about something. Go ahead—ask, said Bing 4.

I was wondering why this bedroom looks identical to mine. From our conversation, it seems like our interests aren’t that much alike. I mean, you’re way ahead of me in so many things. I wouldn’t think your stuff would look so much like mine. I remember a quote I learned recently. It goes: You can’t change one thing without changing numerous others.

It’s your imagination at work, buddy, said Bing 4. Imagination is just as important as knowledge and often one helps to explain the other. You’re seeing what you expect to see. It’s helping you to reconcile what’s happening to you. You might not have been able to handle it otherwise.

Huh. Well— I guess that makes sense. The young mage felt a lingering doubt.

All of a sudden the atmosphere changed in the room. Both boys were sitting on the bed when the albino dragon appeared. Aarabus was tall enough that his head bumped against the ceiling. As soon as he fully materialized, he sniffed the room, quickly strode over to the bed, and with a wide open, toothy maw, seized Bing’s double by the chest and began squeezing big jaws shut.

Horrified, Bing slid off the bed, frantically thinking, Is he Adabega—time bending in disguise? Bing yelled, Let him go! He pointed a finger at the albino. Let him go or I’ll change you!

The albino looked at Bing, but squeezed his captive harder. Something like bile body fluid dripped out the side of the boy’s mouth onto the floor.

Bing rushed Aarabus and tried to pry open his jaws, screaming, YOU’RE KILLING ME!"

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Fortress Belectica’s north face

CHAPTER TWO

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Fortress Belectica

The incensed albino continued pressing his teeth into the boy’s tender flesh.

I WARNED YOU! Bing yelled, standing back, thinking of shapes. He frantically released one. CHOCOLATE BAR!

To Bing’s astonishment, the albino did not change. Instead, the dragon squeezed his sharp teeth together with even more gusto into Bing 4’s quickly fading body. His eyes glazed over. The body double slipped into unconsciousness and drooped out of both sides of the dragon’s mouth. The albino proceeded to bite the boy cleanly in two. POTTED PLANT! yelled Bing, trying again, not recognizing that the color of the boy’s blood was as green as chlorophyll. None of his shapes worked. Bing yelled, WHY?

When the albino released the remainder of the boy’s body, it slipped to the floor. As life oozed away, Bing stood stunned. His double died in front of him, killed by what he had considered to be a friend.

WHY? Bing demanded again to know, nearly coming to tears, realizing his potion had not revealed an evil intent.

He is not who you believe he is, explained Aarabus. Rather, he is a specialized hybrid sent to trick you. Do you not recognize the strange color of his body fluid? Your doppelganger was an elaborate, deceitful, time-bending illusion.

Bing’s mind clicked a couple of gears forward. An illusion? I don’t believe you! His energy seemingly drained away, as it had done during his first meeting with Tammud Tammur.

As the trickster’s body returned to its original state, it changed into a chimera hybrid with the head of a snake and the body of a fish. Bing looked on, thoroughly bewildered.

It is Ageophilius, the shape-changing spy, said Aarabus. I have seen him at work before, gleaning information for Queen Echidna.

But—but—he looked so human; he acted—like me. How did you know? asked the young mage, seeking some glimmer of understanding.

I smelled him. Among a dragon’s senses, smell is our most acute. Hybrids have a signature smell. His was especially revealing.

Bing sank down on the bed, only managing, Oh. He took several slow, deep breaths while staring at the mess on the floor. He then remembered past experiences and how Adabega had been surfing through time, trying to find him by scent. He looked up at Aarabus.

Echidna! She’s a queen? Bing asked in amazement, realizing what he had done. Gad! I just told that thing everything I’ve learned.

Then I think it is a good thing he is dead so he can not pass along that information, said Aarabus, perking up, something like a smile crossing his large jaws.

Reviving a bit, Bing replied, The good news, I guess, is that I learned a few things from him that I didn’t know.

If what you learned were not also lies, the albino cautioned.

The boy grimaced. Hmm. Yeah.

As Aarabus continued to explain what had looked like BB 4, but was now Ageophilius, a bitten through, half-snake, half-fish, the spy disintegrated into more of a slimy green mess on the floor. As the mucous evaporated, so, too, did the room in which the albino and Bing Brown were standing. What the pair found themselves in was no longer even a room, but a huge translucent blue rhomboid. Through its slick, rubbery-looking walls, Bing could see outside it a chalky-blue-colored corridor.

This thoroughfare was stunningly different than anything Bing had ever seen. Other rhomboid and circle-like configurations were everywhere, but they did not look to be portals, more like massive soap bubbles. Slowly, the blue encasement around Bing and Aarabus also disintegrated.

Certain powerful anthros—like Echidna—can create illusions through a combination of time bending and spell-casting, Aarabus revealed. She well understands alternate realities, how they function and how to create them.

B—but—there is an alter ego for me—right? said Bing in a feeble voice, looking around.

"An alter ego? Perhaps not, but you certainly do have a parallel personage since the Fourth Dimension somewhat mirrors the third. I have been told that he was captured by anthros some time ago. He is now residing in a dungeon cell in Fortress Belectica. That is how Ageophilius knew his name as Bing Brown and not some other name. That is how he fashioned your illusion. Your own mind did the rest."

How do you know all this, Airabus? And what is Fortress Belectica?

The answer to your second question—Fortress Belectica is a maximum security prison. Because your dimensional double is being interrogated there, that is why the anthros know so much about you, and were able to fool you so easily. The answer to your first question— I have my own informants, which is how I so far have escaped the dragon catchers.

Okay, so now I get it. Where is this fortress?

It stands in a broad valley of South Belectica.

Well, Airabus, you’ve apparently saved my life. I’m not sure what I can do to save yours, but it looks like I do need you. There’s just so much about this place and its inhabitants I don’t know. You obviously know more about all this than I do, so, from now on, I will form a symbiosis with you. A tight one.

Aarabus was pleased. His pink eyes started piping to red and back again to pink. Bing couldn’t help notice; he had seen a green parrot’s eyes do the same thing.

If you are to ride me, you will need a saddle. I believe I have one in here. The albino ran a pink fore-claw across his stomach. What revealed itself was the top of a pouch. He ran his fore-claw over it again, and the pouch opened. Placing his right paw into it, he groped around. He withdrew a saddle very much like the one Bing had seen Wortha, the Nordica, riding. This one had a red leather seat encased in a dark walnut wood frame.

Nice, said Bing, coming closer to stoke it. Looks comfortable.

Now, if you will return me to my proper stature, this saddle will fit.

Still in the Timestream corridor, Bing reversed his Diminishing Spell and Aarabus promptly became his former size. Aarabus closed his pouch by a reverse claw press and then put the saddle on, tightening up the belly band.

Looking over the seat in detail, Bing found it was different than any horse’s saddle he had ridden. One pommel attached to the front, but the dragon’s saddle had another hand-hold— M-shaped—at the back.

Aarabus explained why. If you feel like riding backward for any reason, you have something substantial to hang onto. Also, while in the saddle you will find that most of the spikes on my neck are pressure sensitive, so you can turn me one direction or another, speed me up or slow me down by bending them.

Wicked awesome. Kind of like the joystick of a computer, said Bing thrilled.

We will practice. Soon you will feel in control, said Aarabus. Occasionally, I may take it upon myself to steer.

Considering that I don’t know where I’m going half the time, said Bing, that would be a good idea. He grinned.

The dragon crouched and placed his tail in front of him, allowing his rider to use it as a step.

"You said that my parallel personage, said Bing, positioning himself in the saddle, is in this Fortress Belectica?"

"Yes, a parallel personage we say in dragonspeak. But yes— When I was looking for you, I found out about your body double."

Bing, getting comfortable, twisted and turned this way and that.

Your parallel personage, Bing, has lived his life in a reference quite different than yours. He is not a mage as you are, but because he has always been a resident of 4th Earth, as we dragons call where we are now, he does know things you do not. For both reasons, the anthros captured him.

They captured him to get to me? asked Bing, feeling the squishy white spikes on the dragon’s scaly ivory neck and then the handles of the saddle.

Yes. Your powers are proven; your reputation is spreading, which is how I found you. As both have broadened, so to have the anthros’ awareness of you. I understand you are causing them great concern for to counteract your effects, they must learn what you know. Particularly your weaknesses. Therefore, I believe, they will be imprisoning anyone else affiliated with you for interrogation.

Geez. That would be awful, said Bing, starting to understand the ramifications.

Aarabus slowly raised and lowered his wings in preparation for flight.

They have started that process with your double. When the jailers learn all they can about you from him, they will doubtlessly imprison his parents and friends, also.

Hmm. I never thought about that, Airabus. Somehow we’ve got to stop all of this. But how?

The albino offered, At some point, you will need to confront the anthros directly, perhaps one on one, one at a time. But I think now is not the time. To rescue your double, that should be your first priority.

Great idea. How would you suggest a rescue?

From the powers I sense you possess, I would say that rescuing him directly from the fortress would be a possibility.

But you just said it was a maximum security prison, said Bing, much alarmed. How would we get in?

Aarabus lifted off from the space they were in and flew through the Time Stream toward what he knew from experience was a more future time. Oval red portals began appearing.

Prisons everywhere, my new friend, are designed to keep creatures in, not to keep anyone from breaking in. Therefore, we have the element of surprise on our side.

Bing thought it over, coming up with, Who are the guards at this fortress?

Ghouls—vexing, but not intelligent.

Them again, huh? Well, in one way or another I’ve had to deal with a lot of them. A few more shouldn’t be a problem. If we are successful in rescuing this guy, what would we do with him?

I suggest that you maintain him somewhere secretly. Because he has lived in the same dimension as the anthros, I suspect he could offer you insight into their lives that few others could. I, myself, have spent more time in the 5th than in the 4th.

Whoa. Really? I’d like to know more about that. As Bing watched more and more oval red portals pass by, he was on edge; he could feel what times they encapsulated. Soon they were surrounded by more soft-feeling oval green, blue and tan ones. Only occasionally did a round vortex appear. He remembered TD saying, Round portals represent century marks.

Yeah, I suppose I’m going to have to get a better handle on these anthros if I’m going to understand their vulnerabilities. The sooner, the better. Okay, then— Stop, Airabus. I carry around this handy little reference book; it’s like a super mini-computer. Let’s see if there’s anything in it about the layout of this prison.

The albino obediently slowed and allowed the momentum of the Timestream to carry them along. Bing took the BKA from his left breast pocket, laid it across his lap, enlarged, it, brought his thumbs together, fingers outstretched, and said, Fortress Belectica.

The book quickly began flipping pages until a drawing of the castle fortress appeared before the young mage’s eyes.

How about that. It’s in here. Bing looked up at Aarabus, who had turned his long neck to look backward to view the time tome.

Quite an impressive volume, said Aarabus nodding

The young researcher traced his finger over the drawing. As he did, the drawing itself moved, revealing the only entrance and exit—a door through a fenced courtyard— corridors, tower rooms, middle chambers and the dungeon. There appeared a small red beating heart in one of the dungeon cells.

Looking up, seeing Aarabus’ face continuing to tower above him, Bing said, You don’t suppose that’s him, do you?

Aarabus replied, I believe it must be him.

Then he’s alive. And alone in that cell. That makes it worth rescuing him. Once we get there, you know I’m going to have to transform you—right? Maybe into different things. Is that okay with you?

Yesss, of course.

Well then— I guess there’s no reason why we shouldn’t try this rescue.

Bing memorized the layout of Fortress Belectica and reduced the book’s size, placing it back in his breast pocket for safe keeping.

They continued flying through the chalky blue corridor until Aarabus obliquely connected to the left with a royal blue avenue. The dragon knew precisely the location of Fortress Belectica in the region of South Belectica. Without so much as a magic word, the pair entered an oval, brick red-colored portal. Through it, they flew into the airspace over the fortress. Since it had worked so well at Snatch’s castle, Bing opted invisibility for himself and his mount.

From the air, Fortress Belectica appeared to be a massive red brick building, surrounded on all four sides by tall towers, ramparts and battlements. Bing could see that at one time there had been multi-paned glass windows in its walls, but after rampaging inmates had broken them, the windows had been bricked up so that the prisoners living in the cells behind those windows could no longer gaze onto the broad valley dotted here and there with meadows. A dirt road marked the way to the prison and wound north through the countryside. No water of any kind was visible for kilometers in any direction around the fortress. Aside from weeds and a few flowers that grew alongside the road, short brown grass and a few small bushes comprised the flora.

As Bing flew Aarabus invisibly around the ten-hectare square compound, he saw that Fortress Belectica looked formidable. As on Snatch’s castle, ghoul guards were posted in all its four corner towers. All were dressed in drab gray-green pant-suits like mechanics sometimes wore in the Met-how Valley. Other ghoul guards slowly patrolled the ramparts, tediously walking back and forth while watching the inmates below them strolling about inside a sunlit, fenced, rectangular arena. Neither was there a bench nor a chair upon which the prisoners could sit.

From the air, there looked to be two floors of the prison, although Bing already knew from the time tome’s schematic that there were ten underground dungeon rooms as well, one of which held captive his body double.

Bing tried to think of a way first into the day-lighted courtyard and then inside the prison itself, not at all sure where a precise place/ date/time catalyst would land him. He and Aarabus talked over another plan. The dragon landed in an area of the courtyard opposite the prisoners. Bing changed his steed into another small invisible book, which he placed in his jeans pocket.

Bing heard a bell ring and saw numerous kinds of two-legged anthros forming a line to walk back into the building. At first, the timid boy didn’t want to approach any of them. Every innate looked to be ferocious or mean-spirited. As the line formed, different individuals mildly pushed and shoved, and made crude remarks to each other.

Some of the inmates were trimorphs—three-headed anthro hybrids. Others were bimorphs—two-headed anthros. A few were monomorphs—one head, but half some other creature. And there were humans with big wings, who looked like dangerous, large bats. There were also dwarves and gargoyles—some with dog’s faces and some with monkey’s faces. There were tall, gray ghouls and shorter green goblins. There were human beings with rat faces, which looked a little like Snitch. The few human beings Bing saw had abnormally large muscles, covered with tattoos.

Most of the inmates scowled and snarled when they talked. The assemblage of sentient beings was nearly as diverse as those Bing had seen at Adabega’s wedding. But among these all-male creatures, Bing could not determine whether any of them were mages, witches, warlocks or any other sort of magical being. While most of the prisoners looked fiercely formidable, a few looked downtrodden, thoroughly beaten. They had only one thing in common: every one of them was wearing some sort of black and white striped prison garb.

The boy applied a Scent Masking Spell upon himself so he wouldn’t smell like a human being. Whew. I wouldn’t want to tangle with any of these creatures, he thought as he cautiously took up the last position in the line, keeping about a meter away from a bird-headed inmate.

Before the door closed behind him, Bing filed into the building. Inside, on what he knew from the diagram was the first floor, he spied cell after cell after cell with a wide passageway separating one side of cells from the other. Each cell had a sturdy metal door with a small rectangular opening sectioned by two vertical metal bars. He kept following the line of prisoners, looking into each cell, until the last prisoner was tucked away into the last cell by the two ghoul guards. Then Bing slipped behind them and began looking for the stairs he knew should lead down to the dungeon. The guards resumed their watch duties at their respective stations, finally sitting down on sturdy wooden stools.

The teen mage anonymously continued along. On the far northern wall, he found the descending wooden stairway. He didn’t hear anything in the stairwell sounding like ghouls talking back and forth. He proceeded downward. As soon as he got to the bottom stair, he realized it was the only entrance and exit. Ahead, a distance of thirty meters, stood a solid red brick wall.

Nobody is guarding down here. I won’t have to change anybody.

Great.

For a few seconds, Bing had to hold his shriveled up nose. The place stunk of centuries of old urine.

Ten heavy metal doors lined the dungeon hall, five on each side of the wide passageway. Halfway up each door was a sturdy brass padlock. Bing heard repetitive noises coming from every direction. A small barred area two meters up the three-meter-tall doors was the only opening in each one, so, to see inside a cell, Bing had to employ a Levitation Spell. He walked over to the first dungeon cell on the left-hand side of the hallway and floated up to look inside.

The cell appeared to be eight meters long, longer than the upstairs cells, and five meters wide, longer and wider than any he had ever seen in television shows about prison life. It was dark inside; no real light penetrated, except from the hallway, and Bing wondered from where it was coming. There was no toilet, and no bed, either. Coarse yellow straw covered the brick floor.

What distressed Bing most was the creature leaning against an inside wall. Chained there by his left ankle was a human-looking creature with wings; he had a tarnished silver crown on his head and wore filthy gray, raggedy clothing.

At first, Bing couldn’t believe his eyes. An angel? In prison? How strange—

The anthro’s wings looked to be slowly falling apart. Grayish feathers punctuated the yellow straw.

Bing shook his head, Sorry I can’t help you. You sure seem like you need some.

He went to the opposite side of the hallway, levitated, and peered into the cell opening. The enclosure was the same size as the last, also constructed of red bricks. Laying down on straw and chained to a wall in like fashion was another figure. This person was human and also wore a crown, although it was golden and cracked in several places. He was skinny, wore a full brown beard, and had long, stringy brown hair. He had torn his red robe along numerous seams. Only the straw separated him from the cold-looking, red brick floor.

Who is he? Why is he here?

Bing frowned at the condition of the man. I don’t know how long you’ve been here, old man, but you don’t look like you’re going to last much longer.

The intruder moved ahead to the next cell on the same side of the passageway. When Bing looked inside, he saw yet another man chained to the wall. This one wore no crown. He was bald. Huge dark brown eyes stared straight ahead, as if he had heard Bing’s approach. The person was black as a moonless night; his sharp nose was misshapen, as if, in times past, it had been broken.

Bing was sorry, also, for the horrible condition of this inmate, too, wondering what he had done to deserve such harsh punishment. Bing dared not call out and continued looking for his counterpart.

In the fourth cell on the opposite side of the hall, Bing witnessed a human-sized rat-headed monomorph, also resting on straw. He wore a bronzed crown and looked a bit like Snatch. His half-length, dirty gray silken toga was nearly intact. Beneath the toga, Bing could see scrawny fur covered legs that extended down to uncut, curling toenails. Jailers had chained this creature to the wall by his left ankle.

Man. What miserable lives they are living. No, they’re not living, they’re just existing. I wonder what makes them hold on. I sure wouldn’t want to be in a cage.

Bing moved down one cell where he saw, sitting on the straw, a human-buffalo hybrid.

A ninotaur, Bing wondered. A real ninotaur? Bing had never considered a ninotaur although he had read about minotaurs—bull- headed hybrids—in mythology books.

Pale yellow straw flaked the beast’s buffalo head. Jailers had bound his right hand with a chain. A ball and chain restricted the use of both of his human-looking feet.

Fascinating creature. Wow. Who is he?

As Bing stared at him, the anthro looked up, as if hearing his thoughts.

Is someone here? I’m Morpheus. Have you come to help me? I have been dreaming someone is coming. He raised his left hand in greeting.

Bing didn’t answer, fearing to give himself away. Instead, he silently crossed the hall and peered into the next dimly lit cell. This man looked younger than the others Bing had seen and slept on straw. This person’s skin was deeply tanned, obviously raised in a harsh desert climate. His facial features were more delicate than those of other inmates. He, also, had been chained to the wall, but by one rough, dark hand. Bing shook his head and moved on.

The next cell also confined a human-looking inmate, but his ears were long and pointed like an elfin, and his nose was bulbous. His eyes were slanted. He wore a tall, green felt hat and Bing wondered if this man might be a mage. His lips were large, round and puffy.

Maybe someone slugged him recently, thought Bing. The man’s clothing was not a robe or toga as the other dungeon prisoners wore, but the off-white homespun cotton pants and shirt of a medieval commoner.

Bing knew he had made progress, even though he still hadn’t found his double. There were three still more cells to check.

With the luck I’m having, he’ll be in the last one. Well, I can’t stay here all day. I’d better keep moving.

He glided to the opposite side of the hall where he saw another man with a king’s golden crown. This guy was standing up. He had long gray hair, a pronounced down-sweeping nose and steely blue eyes. He was two meters-plus tall with white, pasty skin, and large, rough hands. He looked to be a most powerful man even in this horrid condition of confinement. He turned to look through a rectangular opening in the back of his cell about half a meter tall and some ten centimeters wide. A single metal bar embedded in the brick divided the opening into two halves. The inmate took a couple of deep breaths and deliberately and forcefully slammed his fist against the bar.

He’s feeling desperate and frustrated. I would, too, Bing concluded. He levitated down to the last cell on the left side of the passageway. Inside, he spied the strangest looking creature he had ever seen. Physically, he appeared to be like no other anthro. He had a human head with long, evil-looking ears, a pointed nose, and huge brown eyes. He wore a scraggly gray mustache and equally unkempt small gray beard and long stringy hair. But even this was not the strangest part of him. Out of his right shoulder grew a small, gray cat’s head; out of his left shoulder stretched a gray snake’s head. When the snake yawned, Bing saw the snake’s curving double fangs.

As much as Bing wanted to watch, he knew he needed to keep going. Don’t think I’d wanna get close to that one, the teenager told himself as he turned away.

He silently crossed the hallway to the last cell. Inside, in ruddy light, sat a young man with a shaved head. His face and body were as bloody as the rags he wore. He, too, was chained to a wall by a five-centimeter-wide metal ring that fit snuggly around his left wrist. In a bent-over position, he stared into an empty wooden bowl sitting beside him. A black stink bug licked up moisture inside the bowl.

What’s the best way to get in there? Bing asked himself. Analyzing the construction of the door, he saw that a five-centimeter space existed between the door and the floor. He looked down and across at the other doors; about the same space was beneath each one. He recalled how successful he had been creeping around the ghoul’s encampment as a mouse, and so, he turned himself into another one, this one black and white. He scurried beneath the door and made his way toward the hay pile. When traveling on the rough bedding became too involved, Bing turned himself back into his visible self.

BB 4 heard the sound of straw rustling and looked up. He saw a young man with a black ponytail with his facial features coming toward him.

I’ve come to spring you, Bing murmured. I’m your 3rd Earth counterpart.

Spring me? What do you mean?

I mean I’m taking you out of here, Bing clarified.

If you are who I think you are, I’ve been learning a lot about you lately, said the battered teen.

I see they’ve been hard on you, probably because of me. Let’s get you out of here and see if we can beat them. What do you say?

Suits me fine, said the other, trying to stand up. BB 4 fell back down on the straw. Sorry. I’m too weak.

Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, said Bing. First, though, I’d like your permission to transform you into something I can carry. Is that okay?

I’ve heard about your amazing powers. Do what you need to do. Anything would be better than this.

Bing carefully lifted the black stink bug out of the food bowl. It gave him several ideas. He looked intently at BB 4. Then the mage said, TEZ-CA-DUP-LIC-A-TUS HU-MAN-US. The black beetle suddenly turned into the spitting image of BB 4 and sat catatonic on the straw beside the original, complete with his chain.

Clever, said BB 4, watching the frozen figure.

As long as I’m taking you out of here, we probably shouldn’t tip our hand that you’re gone. I don’t think the anthros will be getting much information out of this metamorph.

BB 4 chuckled weakly, the first time in an age.

Now I’m going to become a flying beetle, said Bing, and I’m transforming you into another insect I’ve read about recently—a pseudoscorpion. It’s an even smaller insect. That way you can ride on my back, and we can get out of this place together.

The teen wizard looked up at the opening in the back wall of the cell that matched the one he had seen before. Where does that go?

I don’t know, but fresh air seems to come through it sometimes, BB 4 offered. I’ve always assumed it leads outside.

Then, let’s see if it does. Not waiting for an objection, Bing touched his double and said, HO-CUS PO-CUS, and transformed