The Jekyll Legacy by Jaye Michael & Levanah Greene Chapter Five Initiation Sequence

Victorian alchemy meets modern science and magic.
What could possibly go wrong?

 

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

 — William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (1603, 1604, 1623)

 

“Okay, what’s the drill? I want to get moving,” Hastie complained.

It had been touch and go for most of the night — Hastie as a barbarian woman being only a little less feckless than Hastie as a ‘jock,’ albeit much prettier — but now that the blonde barbarian had finally agreed to join the quest, she was impatient to get started and stood fidgeting with her sword hilt as they stood about in the throne room. She wasn’t alone, since no one except the wizard and the Emperor’s Champion seemed to be eating from the expansive breakfast table that had been set out before them, laden with every food imaginable in this world.

“I do not understand, young lady. This isn’t a marching contest, not at all.” Akcuanrut was confused.

“She means to say, please tell us what we need to do and what kind of problems should we expect along the way.” Over the course of the night Emily had emerged as the group’s spokescreature. It was a measure of the changes that had been occurring in their minds as they caught up to their bodies that bubbly Emily, the mother and housewife, had become serious, task-oriented Emily, the centaur stallion.

The others had changed too. Dr. Lanyon had changed from stuffy, pedantic scientist to nurturing centaur mare, segueing almost imperceptibly into their family’s new mother and hearthkeeper. Jack and Hastie had changed from fun-loving high school jocks to fiery-tempered barbarian warrior women who looked fierce enough to eat crowbars and spit out nails. Hastie was even now insisting that she be called Rhea, because she’d claimed that Rhea was a superheroine in some comic she’d read, so it was more fitting to have a heroic name. Dr. Lanyon had wisely refrained from explaining the rôle that Rhea had played in Ancient Greece, and that her namesake was a Goddess of fertility, motherhood, nurturing, and menstrual flow. Perhaps she might grow into her new name, after all.

The changes were not lost on Akcuanrut, but he didn’t offer his observations aloud.

“Oh…. Well…. Ah…. As I said earlier, we must recover the Heart of Virtue and place it safely under guard again. to do that, we must discover the location of the Portal of Death, and then pass through it without dying.” He paused to consider his words, then continued, “Then, we have to traverse the Cave of Despair, although I have no idea what horrors await us there, since none has ever passed through the cave and returned alive to report on the experience.” He paused again. “Finally, we’ll have to fight the Guardian of the Heart, probably Na-Noc, who I mentioned before, the former Emperor’s Champion.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhea interrupted. “Go on. What else? I want to get this over with.”

“That’s all there is, except that we must then return the Heart to the College of Wizards. It’s reasonable to assume that the Dark Gods will use all their available resources to stop us during the trip back.”

“Whoa up, there,” Rhea interrupted, tapping her foot in exasperation. “We agreed to help you get the darned thing. Surely once you have it, you can get it back to the College, can’t you?”

The wizard’s response was so quiet that it was almost missed by the others. “We must try, although we may perish in the doing of it, lest our little universes be doomed and all these creatures, the trees and fish, the grass, the blue sky above us, vanish into the dark ocean of oblivion. It would be a shame to have victory within our grasp, and then falter through either overconfidence or ennui.”

Rhea rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. So where’s the darned portal? When the going gets tough, the tough get going, you know.”

“Take care, woman. D’lon-ra placed a hand on Rhea’s shoulder but she brushed it off. “Your haste may be your undoing yet.”

“Hey. Funny,” Selene smirked as she changed to an atrocious French accent for no particular reason. Rhea’s haste eez likely to be her undoing,” she paraphrased the huge man beside her, smiling even more. “I like that. You know, Hastie used to be her nickname. Three guesses why, and you won’t need the last two.”

Rhea was outraged. “Shut up! you dumb broad,” she screamed at her twin, furious and embarrassed both at once.

“Who’s a dumb broad? You….” Selene was shouting louder.

“Children!” Emily Lanyon’s thundering bellow shook dust from the stone ceiling, followed immediately by an ominous grinding sound, a dry groan in the rocks and corbeled columns that supported the cliff above their heads, as if the Temple itself were in danger of falling down around their ears. All eyes turned to the stallion, who looked almost as shocked as the rest. In a normal speaking volume she continued, “I think we need to focus on the problem at hand. Rhea actually asked an excellent question.”

Rhea stuck her tongue out at Selene, but did little else for fear of another deafening rebuke from her mother.

“How do we locate the Portal?” he continued, looking pointedly at Akcuanrut.

“I do not know.”

Now their faces turned to the wizard, who actually squirmed a bit under their scrutiny.

Rhea burst into scornful laughter, rolling her eyes in crude mockery.

“You don’t know?” Emily spoke quietly after Rhea’s incredulous laughter had died down. He had an ominous frown on his countenance.

“Rhea, you stop interrupting your mother and Akcuanrut this instant,” Dr. Lanyon chimed in. “You may be bigger now, but you’re not big enough that he couldn’t turn you over and give you the spanking you so richly deserve! You’ve shamed us before our hosts with both your cowardice and open greed.”

“Ulp!” Rhea quickly stifled her laughter. Her father wasn’t easily led to anger, but when she got her dander up, she could be formidable on her own.

Akcuanrut waited patiently for the bickering to cease before answering. “The Portal of Death is said to be here in the Lost Temple of Zampulus, but its exact location is unknown, and I’ve been unable to magically detect it, as I should have been. This is very strange, since normally evil magic is as obvious as a skunk in a bedroom. I can only conclude that it somehow hides itself when it’s not currently in use. I’ve heard other, similar, stories about the magic of the Dark Gods, so subtle — or perhaps so far removed from our normal plane of existence — as to be undetectable when not in use.”

Herbert and Emily both glared at Rhea in a preëmptive attempt to avoid another snide comment. It seemed to work, since she said nothing and made no surly faces. “So how do we find it?” Emily asked for everyone.

“As I said, Dr. Lanyon, I do not know. I have my apprentices checking every room, thus far without result. Amazingly devious is evil. It could be anywhere.”

“Just how big is this place?” Mrs. Lanyon had a thoughtful look on his face.

“I do not know. It is said to be infinite, but of course that’s not possible. Thus far, we have checked over a hundred rooms very thoroughly without finding the portal.”

“Excuse me, sir, but that’s the third time you’ve called this place the Lost Temple of Whozits. Why do you keep callin’ it ‘lost’ when you evidently knew where it was to find it?” Selene’s question brought another smile to Rhea’s face, but she didn’t make the snide retort everyone expected. Herbert Lanyon, however, made shushing gestures anyway, pointing to her wife who was obviously deep in thought.

Emily noticed them all staring at him and holding their breath. “Don’t mind me, folks. I’m just trying to figure something out.” With that he wandered off toward a corner of the throne room muttering incomprehensibly. The others watched for a moment before the urgency of their situation brought them back to the task at hand.

“Ignore him. He’s concentrating on a problem. An atomic bomb could explode and he’d neither notice nor care,” Dr. Lanyon sighed at her wife’s poor timing.

“So why is it called the Lost Temple?” Rhea wasn’t giving up on her sister’s question.

“Oh, very well. We can do nothing until we find the Portal in any case.” Akcuanrut settled himself more comfortably on the throne. “Until about a month before this expedition, the Temple of Zampulus was nothing more than a legend, but even as a legend it has always been called ‘lost’. It was supposedly constructed long before recorded history and then abandoned for many thousands of years. The opinion of some of the historians at the College is that the term referred to the fact that this was a place of such intense evil that all who entered lost their souls. Others believed that it….

“That’s it,” Emily Lanyon shouted with gleeful enthusiasm from across the room, oblivious to the fact that Akcuanrut was still speaking.

None-the-less, everyone turned to her in anticipation, because Akcuanrut was taking a long time to say, ‘I don’t exactly know,’ when stripped of rhetoric.

“What’s ‘it,’ dear?” Herbert asked.

“ ‘It’ is the Portal. I know where the Portal has to be.”

“Well, tell us, man. Tell us, damn it! Have you known this all along?” D’lon-ra, who had been silent the whole time, was suddenly right in front of Emily, very nearly furious, his teeth grinding together as his fists clenched and unclenched, ready for action. Rhea absently noted that the Champion was nearly as tall as the male centaur, but took the precaution of surreptitiously drawing her dagger and hiding it in her palm just in case, as she saw her father charging protectively toward the two males, obviously worried about the possibility of confrontation.

“Friends, please. Let him speak,” Akcuanrut beseeched the group as he made an arcane gesture from where he sat upon the throne. Suddenly, D’lon-ra uttered a surprised yelp as his feet left the ground and he floated gently to the side of the throne.

“Be at ease, D’lon-ra. Let him speak before you get yourself worked up into a rage.”

“The answer,” Mrs. Lanyon couldn’t resist a little pontificating of his own, “was perfectly simple, once inductive reasoning was applied.” He paused and beamed down at his waiting audience.

Rhea had no patience for anticipation, so immediately whined, “So what’s the answer already, Mom?”

With an annoyed glance at Rhea, he continued. “What is evil? It’s the absence of all things good, like love, respect, trust….” Another pause.

“Enough with the classroom lecture. A little help here, please! Dad,” Rhea whined to his father, possibly because she looked like his mother, whom he’d always been able to wheedle more easily than his father. “How about making Mom give us the short answer? He’s got this whole Socratic method thing goin’ on….”

“Rhea, be polite to your fa… mo…. Anyway, be polite,” Herbert Lanyon snorted, embarrassed by her own confusion over her wife’s new gender and rôle in their family. “And don’t mumble the ends of your words. It’s a sloppy habit that encourages sloppy thinking.”

With a hurt look at Rhea, and a thank you glance at her husband, Emily Lanyon continued. “But that was the key; Trust with a capital ‘T’. Truly evil beings can never trust. They must directly control all events, plan for every contingency as if they were alone, with all others prepared to betray them at the drop of a hat, because they themselves are ready to do the same thing if it works to their own advantage. The truly evil being can never trust others to love, respect, or even fear them long enough to do their bidding, so they must constantly be on guard against plots by those who share its treacherous nature. In effect, the virtuous are unified, because they work for the common good, while evil is an inherently solitary vice. ‘There’s no honor amongst thieves,’ as the saying goes.”

“Some of us are still in high school,” Rhea snorted in annoyance. “Will you please tell us in simple terms what the heck you’re talking about.”

“But I just did.” He looked a bit irritated over Rhea’s continuing obtuse failure to comprehend. “Because evil cannot trust, it must place those things of value to it where it can be certain of its safety. The Portal must be here, in this room, in Evil’s throne room.”

“But this room was examined first,” Akcuanrut objected. “It simply cannot be here.”

“Why?” Mrs. Lanyon challenged. “Why can’t it be in this room? How do you know what you’re even looking for if you’ve never seen it?”

“Because I am a wizard of great power,” Akcuanrut spoke with all the hauteur of someone long used to being deferred to, “and the Portal of Death must be a thing of magic, a thing created by the Dark Gods of course, but magic none the less. I could not possibly fail to be aware of it if were here.”

“First, just consider the past few moments; we’ve seen bickering and childish confrontations between individuals who have every reason to feel confident and secure enough in themselves that being drawn into such time-wasting nonsense is almost incredible. Perhaps this ‘Heart of Virtue’s’ influence is more subtle than you know, and may not require the magical ‘signature’ you expect to find, because it works differently from other magic. Just because the ‘Dark Gods,’ as you call them, have the ability to perform magic does not mean that they have to use traditional magic. The best way for magical beings to do the unexpected would be to use something outside the realm of the magic you’re familiar with. Also, these Dark Gods of yours are supposed to be very clever, right? They were trying to hide their deepest secret, the one thing their most devious plans depended upon, sure to be the target of magical assaults of every kind. Why would clever Gods use the exact sort of trickery that they knew any powerful magic user would see right through? They might as well have pasted a sign on their collective butts with ‘Kick Me, Please!’ written on it.”

Akcuanrut’s mouth opened several times before any words came out and then he did a jig as he proclaimed, “Non-magical! Of course, a secretive magical being would have to use non-magical means! Such subtlety! Wheels within wheels! To think that so brilliant a mind as yours, dear Sir, has solved in an instant a puzzle that a thousand generations of the wise have failed to grasp,” he effused. Then he looked around him at the vastness of the hall they stood within and grew both puzzled and discouraged. “But where would it be in so large a room? How could we find it? There must be millions of places to hide a secret rock that can be moved, or tapped, or whatever, to open the secret door.”

“That I don’t know,” Emily responded as the level of excitement in the room plummeted, “but I’ll bet Jack does.”

“Jack?” Akcuanrut and D’lon-ra spoke in unison. When no one answered, D’lon-ra tried again. “What’s a Jack?”

Emily merely gazed calmly at Selene, joined by Dr. Lanyon and Rhea. The other two followed their gaze to Selene.

“I thought her name was Selene?” D’lon-ra missed the wizard’s question as he examined the barbarian woman carefully trying to discover what a ‘jack’ was.

“It is now,” Mrs. Lanyon said. “It was Jack when she was a male on our world.”

Selene crossed her arms and glared at Mrs. Lanyon in a perfect snit of fury over being ‘outed,’ especially after she noticed D’lon-ra staring at her in confusion.

Mrs. Lanyon carried on blithely, “She was an amateur magician on our world, where magic doesn’t really exist. That means she knows all sorts of illusions; tricks for making things seem magical when they really aren’t. She also knows a lot about how the attention can be misdirected, so that you notice what the magician wants you to notice instead of what’s really going on. I’ll bet that she can find a hidden mechanism of some sort with greater ease than any of us, and it must, I think, be concealed where it would easily come to hand, in other words, on or very near the very throne you’re seated on.”

To his credit, Akcuanrut leapt up from his seat with all the alacrity and grace of a young man, brushing at his robes as if he’d inadvertently sat in something nasty.

Selene used her most exaggerated theatrical strut as she walked to the throne. Passing Mrs. Lanyon, she hissed, “I’ll get you for that,” but she had trouble hiding a wry smile as she said it.

“We are of the Light, Selene,” she whispered to her as she stalked past; “our power lies in truth and personal integrity, not secrets and shame.”

Selene blushed, then she muttered incoherently as she roughly shooed Akcuanrut further away from the throne and examined it; feeling each crevice.

“Close to evil,” she mused aloud. “Probably the throne.” She kneeled down to look under it. “Somewhere it can be reached easily, yet it’s got to be unobtrusive so that others won’t find it. Hiding it in plain sight or misdirection seem the most likely options.”

Then she got up again and walked around the throne. Her hands moved lightly but slowly along one armrest, the high back, and then the other, feeling for lumps, bumps and anything moveable. At the gnarled hand rest on the left side of the elaborate seat her frown of concentration turned to a smile.

“I think I’ve found it. There’s a gem here that seems loose in its setting.”

“Devious, dear,” Dr. Lanyon worriedly called out to her daughter’s friend/sister. “You said they were devious. It might be a trap….”

“There,” Selene cried out in triumph and stood back waiting. Suddenly there was a wooshing sound. Rhea was instantly crouched back to back with D’lon-ra, shield held above her, sword out and presented. D’lon-ra had fluidly matched her actions. At the same time Dr. Lanyon screamed and cowered behind her wife who put her arms protectively about her as hundreds, thousands, of small darts whistled down upon the troupe from holes in the ceiling, covering every portion of the large room except a small area immediately around the throne.

Inches from Emily’s head they suddenly stopped, suspended in mid-air close enough to see a strangely colored stain on the otherwise shiny tip of each. As they watched in awe, the hovering darts slowly began to float in a quivering mass towards the corner farthest from everyone, bunching into a tight clump like a swirling swarm of bees. When they were no longer likely to strike anyone they fell with a dry rush of sound, like pouring a large bag of rice onto a floor.

Selene was the first to recover. “Sorry,” she said, blushing a bright red, particularly noticeable on her very fair skin. ‘Oh, great!’ she thought. ‘Not only have I been labeled as a freak, but a stupid freak to boot.’

“Next time, give us a little more warning,” Akcuanrut fumed, slowly lowering his hands and then slumping to the floor by the throne. “It’s not easy to control so many objects.”

“Sorry,” she called over her shoulder as she returned to examining the throne. I’ll be more careful next time.” Then she muttered almost imperceptibly under her breath, “Unlike Rhea here, which is why we’re in this stupid situation to begin with.”

Several more minutes passed as Selene carefully examined the throne and its pedestal. Fingers gently caressed the hard stone surfaces as the others watched warily. Finally, she stood and turned to the group. “I found two loose segments that might be latches or conceal levers. One is by the right armrest by this fluted hand rest,” she pointed, “and the other is on the left inside leg. If you folks are ready, I’ll try the one on the armrest, since that would be the handiest in an emergency.”

The barbarian woman waited as each of the others assumed a defensive or protective position as they had before under the duress of surprise, but this time more thoroughly. Mrs. Lanyon surveyed the others and then nodded. They all held their breaths and waited for they knew not what as Selene moved the hidden latch on the arm rest.

And moved it again, but in a different direction.

And moved it yet a third time, trying to twist it as she did so.

“So get on with it already,” Rhea grumped. “I’m getting tired of standing here, hunched over, waitin’ for the sky to fall.

“I did, Rhea. Three times now.”

“So what happened?” she complained. “Did we die and I missed it, or what?”

“Mind your tongue, Rhea,” Mrs. Lanyon quickly interjected before turning back to Selene. “You’re the expert here, dear. What does it mean?”

“I think it means that this was just a loose piece of wood, and not a hidden switch. If everyone’s ready, I’ll try the other one.”

Once again everyone braced themselves. Akcuanrut grumbled, “Do it already.”

Selene moved the other seeming latch, standing as far back as possible while she leaned down to work the lever. It clicked, but did nothing. Then she pushed at it again, but nothing happened at all.

“Damn it, work!” she said and kicked the throne with all her strength, grunting in frustration, and heard a faint click. Kicking it again, she was rewarded with a deep scraping sound as the throne and its pedestal began creeping backward, revealing a gaping pit opening into Stygian darkness.

“Yes!” Selene did a brief victory dance and Rhea joined in as Akcuanrut and D’lon-ra watched in confusion. “I guess it was a little bit sticky after so many thousands of years.”

“Is it the Portal of Death?” asked the ever practical Emily.

“Dark waves of evil magic are emanating from yonder pit, so I suspect it is,” was Akcuanrut’s response. “Well, then, let us go. I will lead of course. Just let me collect my apprentices.”

“Wrong.”

Rhea’s and Selene’s response was in unison again, but then Rhea elaborated. “D’lon-ra and I will lead as there may be non-magical traps and ambushes. The centaurs will flank you, wizard, and Selene will cover our backs. “There’s no time for apprentices, and too many people is too many people to stumble over any trap down there. We need to travel light and fast to surprise whatever might be waiting for us.”

“But… but….” Akcuanrut sputtered until D’lon-ra intervened.

“She’s right. The apprentices are very well-meaning, but men of action they’re not, and their powers won’t add that much to yours. On the other hand, their blundering about could be the death of us all; besides, time is precious. The only change I’d recommend is Selene at point with me and Rhea as rear guard. Selene has proven her ability to identify and deal with me-can-i-cal,” he spoke each syllable separately, as if the word was unfamiliar to him, “traps, and who knows what dreadful machineries else have been set in motion by that kick?”

“Oh, very well,” Akcuanrut grudgingly conceded. “Time is of the essence, so your words, O D’lon-ra, are wise counsel.”

“Fine,” Rhea interrupted. “Now that that’s resolved, shall we go?” She and Selene moved almost as one to the food table and stuffed several loaves of bread into their backpacks, followed by some fruits and other items that looked as though they might travel well.

“One question, before we depart,” Emily interjected. “How do Herbert and I get down there?”

“Why… float, of course,” Akcuanrut was surprised by the question. “Are you not familiar with the magic of centaurs? I thought that must be why you chose those forms.”

“We’ve only been centaurs a couple of days. Until then we weren’t even aware that centaurs really existed. We had no idea what centaurs can do, other than that it looked like they could travel with great rapidity, and carry heavy loads.”

“Oh, my! We must remedy that immediately. You can….”

D’lon-ra interrupted. “Save that for the trip, Master Wizard. We need to get moving now!”

“You have a hunch?” the wizard asked.

D’lon-ra nodded.

“Very well. D’lon-ra’s hunches are nearly as good as a seeing. We will speak of this more on the way.” With that he also took up several fruits and headed for the entrance to the pit.

“Uh-hum.” Emily clear his throat.

“Yes?” the wizard asked as he turned back to the centaurs.

“How do we float?”

“Oh, of course. All centaur magic is innate and only partially volitional. It will happen on its own, if you desire something, like a wish that one might make upon seeing a lucky omen.”

When both centaurs looked at him in confusion, he elaborated. “Try it here. Jump and wish that you could float like a cloud above the floor.”

“Okay,” they said in unison, but it was clear they weren’t really convinced. Still, they tried. Herbert and Emily separated a few feet as they moved to one side of the huge room. Turning back to the group, Emily jumped first — and found himself with his arms outstretched protecting his head from the ceiling, easily thirty feet in the air.

Landing as lightly as a feather at the other side of the room, she called enthusiastically back to Herbert, “Herbert! You must try this! It feels fantastic.”

Before Herbert could leap, he was in the air again, landing lightly beside his husband and slapping her on the rump. The centaur mare gave a yelp and a surprised leap, but then realized that she too could float.

Landing, she quickly turned and jumped again, only to be met in mid-air by her wife who “high fived” her as he passed her. As each landed they turned and prepared to jump again, smiling like school children at play. Selene let them jump once more before interrupting them. “Enough fooling around, folks. Let’s go, people. We have two worlds to save.”

One more leap and they were at the pit and ready to leap in. Only Akcuanrut’s stiff warning prevented it. “Wait! I need to be sure there are no Magical traps set on the opening.”

He stood concentrating for several seconds and then made an abrupt up and down gesture.

“It’s free of magical traps, at least for the first hundred feet or so. Selene, would you please make a similar check for mech-ani-cal traps?”

Without a word, Selene knelt beside the entry and examined the edges. As if anticipating her thoughts, Rhea brought over a wall torch and dropped it into the pit.

They all watched the torch as it dropped, and dropped, and eventually faded into a faint spark in the darkness, then disappeared without ever landing.

“Folks, I think we’ve got a problem,” was Rhea’s understated comment.

Copyright © 2000, 2001, 2002 Jeffrey M. Mahr — All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2012 Levanah Greene — All Rights Reserved