Can't Look Back (War for Dominance Book 1) Page 2

  “They never do,” said the orc, shaking her head.

  The devil took off one of his boots. “Oops,” he said as he smashed the mirror on the bed with it. “Seven years of bad luck for me; a lifetime of bad luck for you.” He put his boot back on.

  The midget scooped the coins back into the bag. “I claim these as my reward,” he said. “You can have the crown; these are mine.”

  The devil shrugged and looked at the orc. She shrugged back at him. “Fine,” the devil said to the midget, “I’m happy to get the crown back and strand him here.” He turned to the orc. “How long will the chains last?”

  “About an hour,” the orc replied. “Long enough for us to get back and break the mirror, trapping him here forever.”

  “Good,” said the devil. “Let’s go.” He picked up the crown and turned to leave.

  “I’m staying,” the midget announced, bouncing the bag in his hand so that the coins jingled. “I have money, and I like this world. The women are tall and pretty, and I’m rich. There are magic rooms to ride up and down in. This will be so much fun!”

  The other two looked at each other and shrugged again. “Works for me,” said the devil. “I’m happy to strand you here, too.” They left, leaving John with the midget.

  “Naughty, naughty, naughty,” the midget said as he sat down on the bed. He shook his head. “You have been a very bad boy.”

  “But I didn’t do anything!” John wailed. “I really didn’t!”

  “You can stop the denials,” the midget said with a laugh. “I know you didn’t do it.” He pulled a small mirror out of his bag and gazed into it, saying something that John strained to hear, but couldn’t. The midget’s face melted, and John recoiled in horror as the midget’s flesh turned liquid and rearranged itself according to some predetermined pattern. The midget’s face took on a very sinister look.

  “But, but, but,” John stuttered, close to tears, “if you knew I didn’t do it, why didn’t you tell them?”

  “That wouldn’t have been very smart,” the midget replied, patting his face into place as it hardened, “since I was the one that really did take those things.” He got up. “That reminds me.”

  The midget walked out onto the balcony and pulled a handful of shelled peanuts from a pocket. Placing them on the table, he waved over the railing. Within seconds, a flock of crows flew in and started feeding. “Thank you for bringing those things up for me,” he said, stroking the one closest to him.

  “So you are just using me to take the blame?” John asked as the midget returned to the room.

  “Of course I am,” the midget replied. “You are as stupid as those other two fools. They got so excited when they saw the crown that they will go home and destroy their only way of coming back here before they realize it’s a fake. You’re helping me start my new life.”

  “But, didn’t they do something to see if the crown was stolen?”

  “Indeed they did,” replied the midget. “They checked it the same way they always do, which is why I had the forgery made out of gold and gems I had stolen previously. She looked to see if it was stolen by “the Spectre.” The crown glowed like it was stolen by me because it was stolen by me...just not from the time and place, nor by the person that they thought it was.” He pulled a crown from his bag. The gems in this one shone with an internal light and brilliance that the other crown didn’t have. John was awed; he knew it was the most valuable thing he had ever seen.

  The midget began a belly laugh that was both gleeful and maniacal at the same time, leading John to decide that the midget was not entirely balanced. A shiver went down his spine. If the midget was crazy, he might do anything to tie up loose ends, and John was definitely a loose end.

  “Wha...what are you going to do with me?” he asked, dreading the answer.

  “With you?” The midget laughed, walking over to gaze at his reflection in the mirror on the dresser. He pulled a chair over to the dresser and reached forward to adjust something on the mirror. “Nothing. You are trivial to my plans. No one in my world knows you exist, and no one in this world will believe you if you tell them about me.”

  John knew he was right. He could never tell anyone about this; they would lock him up and throw away the key. “But what about you?” he asked. “What are you going to do?”

  The midget smiled as he stepped up onto the chair. “What am I going to do?” he asked. “Anything I want to.” He stepped through the mirror and was gone.

  John passed out.

  Chapter 2

  John woke up to a banging sound. As his came to, he realized that the banging noise was someone knocking on his door. He rolled over, stiff and cold from lying on the floor wearing nothing but his underwear. Suddenly, it all came back to him. His room had been invaded by the three people in costumes. The two scary ones had left by the door, but the third one...the midget...had left through the mirror? He must have imagined that after hitting his head on the floor. He must have imagined the whole thing. Maybe someone had put something in his drink the night before. Maybe...he didn’t know what, but it couldn’t have happened the way he remembered it.

  The knocking on the door stopped as he stood up and stretched. The mirror on the dresser looked normal, and he chuckled. People don’t travel through mirrors. That was just in books and movies. He laughed at himself. He must have a concussion or something. He froze as he saw the reflection in the mirror. It looked like there was something on the bed. He turned. The cheap mirror sat in a pile of broken glass where the devil smashed it. Had it happened then, after all?

  Wait, he thought; I put a coin in the pocket of my pants. Dreading what he would find, he picked up his pants from where he had thrown them. His hand shaking, he reached into the right front pocket. Nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled at his gullibility as he threw the pants back onto the floor. They clinked with a metallic sound when they hit. He had forgotten to look in the other pocket.

  He stared for several seconds at the pants lying on the floor, not sure if he wanted to know. Finally he decided that he had to know, whether he wanted to or not. With shaking hands, he picked up the pants. The coins in the other front pocket jingled. He reached in and grabbed the coins in a fist and pulled his hand back out. He could tell there were at least three coins, but he couldn’t tell if any were different. Finally deciding they all felt normal, he opened his hand. A quarter, a nickel...and an indecipherable gold coin.

  He hadn’t dreamed it.

  So if it had really happened, what should he do about it? Report it to the police? Like the midget said, there’s no way anyone would believe him. “Really, officer, I was attacked by an orc and a devil at a fantasy convention.” If he was lucky, they would only think he was joking; if they thought he was serious, they’d take him away as crazy. That was out.

  The safest thing he could do would be to forget about it. He had just turned 21; he could head out to some of the party suites, have a drink or three and forget the whole thing happened.

  But then the midget would get away. The orc and the devil were obviously looking for a criminal; they would never know that their midget friend was the person they were looking for. He had to tell them.

  But how? When the first two left, it sounded like they were going back to wherever they were from. He had no idea where that was, or how to find them. Before he passed out, he thought he saw the midget go through the mirror. That couldn’t have happened...but then again, none of this made any sense.

  Before the midget went through the mirror, he had looked to see if John was watching. When he saw that John wasn’t, he had done something to it and then had gone through it. John hadn’t been watching him directly; however, John was watching in the reflection of the picture on the opposite wall. He had seen everything that the midget had done. There were three buttons on the bottom of the mirror; he had pushed them from left to right.

  John went to the mirror. Push three buttons and then go through the mirror? That couldn’t
be right, could it? Before he could change his mind, he pushed the buttons like the midget had done. He reached out toward the mirror with a finger and tentatively poked it. His finger bent backward from the hard surface.

  He sat down on the bed and looked at the mirror. Something was wrong. Well, lots of things were wrong, if he were being honest with himself. He probably had a concussion and was delusional. That was the most likely excuse, with alcohol and/or drug poisoning running a close second. If the events had really happened, and he wasn’t delusional, then the midget had gone through the mirror. He was sure about what he had seen; the midget had pushed the buttons in that order.

  Something didn’t make sense.

  He pulled his t-shirt back on and lay down on the floor. Looking at the picture on the wall opposite the mirror, he played the events back in his head. The midget pushed the buttons in order, from left to right. From the left, the button closest to the light, over to the...wait a minute. He jumped up and looked at the mirror. He ran his hand over his face, shaking his head. The light was on the right side of the mirror. When he looked at the mirror in the picture, what he saw was reversed. The midget had actually pushed the buttons from right to left.

  John walked back to the mirror with a new purpose and pressed the buttons from right to left, then jumped backwards as the mirror shimmered. The glass now looked...fluid, somehow. He reached out to touch it with the index finger on his right hand, noticing that his finger didn’t shake this time. He touched the mirror and found that it was no longer solid. His finger went into it. He could feel a tug on his finger, pulling him in.

  He tried to pull his finger back out, but couldn’t. The tug became more insistent, pulling his hand up into his wrist. He braced himself on the dresser, bent over at the waist. The lower half of his body kept him from being pulled any further into the mirror, but the pull only got stronger. His arm felt like it was going to be pulled from the socket, and there was no sign that it was letting up. The pull became stronger still, and John cried out as the pain in his shoulder became overwhelming.

  He didn’t know where the mirror led. He didn’t know what would happen to him there. All he knew was that the pain was blinding, and he was about to lose his arm. A tear rolled down his cheek. He pulled the desk chair over with his right foot and stood up on it. The pain lessened as his arm went further into the mirror. The pull was unrelenting, though, and it again began drawing him further into the mirror. With no other options, he put his left arm up to the mirror like he was diving into a pool. It was drawn into the mirror the same way that his right arm had been. He leaned forward and pushed off the chair.

  The mirror consumed him. He was gone.

  Chapter 3

  Solim strode into the room, secure in the knowledge that his personal secretary would close the hidden door that gave access to his lair.

  “Welcome back m’lord,” said his assistant, who stood up to bow as Solim entered. If he minded bowing to someone half his size, he didn’t give any indication. Solim was a halfling, a race that looked generally human, but rarely grew taller than three feet. Tall for a halfling, Solim was just under three and a half feet, with large ears and straight black hair.

  “Thank you,” replied Solim. “Any problems while I was gone?”

  “None, m’lord,” his secretary replied. “Everything is in order and the instructions you left have been followed to the letter in your absence.” He said it as if he had last seen his boss only a few days prior, when in reality a whole year had gone by. The secretary had long ago become accustomed to Solim’s extended absences, as well as to the excellent salary he was paid to successfully complete the tasks he was given. No matter what they were.

  “And Cuddles?” Solim asked.

  “He is doing well, m’lord, and has grown to be bigger than his mother,” the secretary answered. “I haven’t had any problems with him.”

  “Good,” replied Solim. “Please see that I am not disturbed.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” the secretary said with another bow.

  Solim went into his office. Closing the door, he was greeted by Cuddles, who came running up to Solim and knocked him over in its excitement. Most people would have experienced worse damage, as Cuddles was a five-year-old grizzly bear. The bear was just over nine feet tall when it stood up on its hind legs, and it weighed over 1,400 pounds. Solim on the other hand didn’t weigh more than 40 pounds, except after the most strenuous of holiday eating festivals.

  The only thing that saved Solim was his ability to control the monster, turning its wild charge into just a happy rush. It sat down expectantly and stared at Solim. “No, I didn’t forget about you,” Solim said, pulling a bundle from out of his pack. He unwrapped the bundle and threw the salmon inside to the bear.

  While the bear ate his treat, Solim pulled his prized possession from his other bag. The crown looked as spectacular in this world as it had in the last. He smiled as he set it on his shelf. He pulled the bag of gold coins out of a belt pouch and put it alongside the crown. He didn’t need the coins, it was just an added insult to the two Magisterium brats. As he thought about how successfully he had shamed the Magisterium, he shivered in delight. Flawless.

  Solim had been a criminal all his life, ever since he had come into his magic as a child. He had been watching a beastmaster coax a kitten from a tree one day and had heard him say the word “Guberno.” The word had resonated in his head all day; he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally, he had said it out loud that night while holding a kitten. Instantly, he saw himself through the kitten’s eyes.

  He hadn’t let anyone know at the time, for even as a child he was aware that beastmasters were the lowest class of magicians. They were looked down on even more than people with no magic. As a halfling, he was already looked down on enough; he didn’t need to give the other kids any more reasons to taunt or despise him.

  He had grown his magic secretly, following established beastmasters whenever he could find them. Most didn’t mind him tagging along; routinely reviled, they usually appreciated having someone to talk to. He listened intently to everything they said, memorizing it for future consideration.

  He started small, using mice and other small animals to recover coins that had been dropped into confined areas. Sometimes he helped put them there by ‘accidentally’ dropping his change from a merchant. When retrieving coins became too trivial, he had mastered the avian art and started flying birds through open windows to see what he could steal from peoples’ homes and shops.

  Being a beastmaster was an excellent cover for his activities because no one thought that beastmasters were smart enough to be criminals. They normally weren’t. When he realized that people thought that way, he let people know that he was a beastmaster, to the disgust of his parents. After that, he made sure that he followed the beastmaster stereotype. He developed a public persona of someone that wasn’t very bright and made sure that he smelled bad. Really bad. Hiding in plain sight kept him safe. People had such little respect for beastmasters that he was never considered by the police when they tried to solve his crimes.

  Before long, there was a string of unsolved crimes for which he was responsible. So many unsolved crimes, in fact, that the police made it a priority to catch the person responsible. The police kept getting closer and closer, and he finally decided that he had to do something about it.

  He framed his village’s mayor, giving the secret police information on things that he had hidden in the mayor’s home. Since then, he had continued to ingratiate himself with the secret police hierarchy, moving up their ranks until he was recruited by the secret police as one of their operatives.

  People above him in the organization tended to have “bad luck” or make “bad decisions” that cost them their jobs, and he had advanced quickly within the organization to his present position. It had taken some time for him to put all of the pieces in place, but events were moving now, and it was almost time for him to advance again. One more step was all it
would take. “King of Tasidar” had a nice ring to it.

  Chapter 4

  John woke up, cold and stiff. His head hurt so much that he was sure he was going to die. He hoped it would happen soon.

  It didn’t.

  Spared the mercy of a quick death, he opened up one eye. The only thing in view was a rough wooden floor that ended in a rough wooden wall. He figured at least one of the numerous pains he felt was a splinter; the wood was that rough. Who builds with wood like that?

  He opened the other eye, which let him see a little further up the wall. He saw the mirror and everything came crashing back to him. It was an exact replica of the one in the hotel room (his mind shied away from the term ‘mirror image’). He realized in a flash that he had been transported somewhere far from home. As he looked at the rough floor and wall, he also recognized that it was a place far less advanced.

  John rolled onto his back. Some of the aches and pains eased; others intensified. His head cleared a little, to the point that he realized the buzzing noise in his head was someone snoring. He rolled a little further and saw that there was a man asleep on some sort of no-frills bed. It was nothing more than a thin pad on a wooden frame, and it looked less comfortable than anything John had ever slept on in his life. The only thing it had going for it was that it was better finished than everything else in view; at least the snoring man probably wouldn’t wake up full of splinters.

  John levered himself onto an elbow, nearly passing out with the increased pain. Slowly the blackness faded back to the edges of his vision, allowing him to see again. Moonlight shone through the window, glinting off the blade of a very large sword leaning up against the head of the bed. It looked ready to use at a moment’s notice...like if the occupant of the bed woke up and found a stranger in his room.