Anne Bishop - Sebastian

Nothing there now. And yet…

It reshaped a piece of Itself. A tentacle broke through the soil, rising up like some strange, malignant weed. The tip explored, found the planks that still resonated with the heart that had recently crossed over to a different place. More of the tentacle emerged from the soil, elongating as the tip moved across the planks.

Yes, It recognized the resonance of this heart. One of the ones who had eluded Its attempt to alter the alley in that dark hunting ground called the Den.

The tip reached the other side, pressed into the dirt to feel the resonance of this other landscape.

Ah! It recognized this place. It had hunted in this dark landscape recently. The creatures who lived there had been a delicious feast, although not as savory as human prey.

Nothing was as savory as human prey.

Its power flowed through the tentacle. Pulsed in the tip that pushed into the ground.

The world struggled to resist Its dark resonance, which surprised It. It probed a little more, trying to tap into the Dark currents that flowed through this landscape. Then It withdrew, wary now. Almost afraid.

A powerful resonance flowed through the Dark currents. Something much stronger than anything It had found in the lair made by the enemies who had caged It long ago.

Unwilling to yield completely, It tried again, pushing the tentacle back into the ground near the wooden planks.

Just a small bit of darkness, It wheedled. A change that won’t even be noticed in a dark landscape. Something that will protect this place from dangerous hearts.

Ephemera hesitated. Then the world surrendered a small circle of ground near the bridge—a piece now malleable to Its will.

Perhaps that was for the best. A small anchor would be hard to detect by whatever heart flowed through this landscape, but that anchor would be enough to give It access to this place.

Careful to conceal Its glee in having tricked Ephemera into giving up a piece of itself, no matter how small, It reshaped the ground to provide an access point into one of Its own landscapes.

The tentacle tip withdrew from the soil. The ground in front of It lifted slightly, revealing sod covering a latticework of sticks that formed a trapdoor big enough to fit a full-grown man. Two large legs emerged from the trapdoor, testing the ground around the burrow.

Satisfied that It had a way into this landscape, It drew Its tentacle back across the plank and reshaped it to match the rest of Its current form.

Then It turned and headed for the mound and the minds that resonated so closely with Its own. It was time to slip into that twilight place between wakefulness and dreams. Once the Dark Ones knew It had returned, It would be that much closer to regaining what rightfully belonged to It.

The world.

Tired and thirsty, Sebastian trudged up another low rise. He still didn’t know where he was, had seen nothing but open countryside since he crossed over at the bridge. At least the trees he’d passed didn’t look alien, even in the moonlight, so there was hope that he’d crossed over to a landscape that had some connection to the Den.

As he headed down the other side of the rise, a black horse pricked its ears and ambled over to meet him—and he knew where he was.

It was a beautiful creature, but its looks didn’t make it any less a demon. Seeing the waterhorse confirmed he was in a dark landscape that bordered the Den. Unfortunately, it also confirmed he still had a long walk ahead of him before he got back to the Den itself.

Sebastian kept walking, aware that he could be ensnared by the demon’s magic as easily as any human. But the waterhorse suddenly lunged, blocking his path. Its nostrils quivered, as if it wanted to get a good whiff of his scent but was afraid to get within reach. Which was queer behavior for one of these demons. They usually wanted to entice humans into taking a fatal ride.

Moving slowly, Sebastian held out his hand. The waterhorse stretched its neck, bringing its muzzle close enough to snuffle him. Then it stepped back, tossed its head, and headed toward a glint of water.

When Sebastian didn’t follow, the waterhorse returned.

Sebastian shook his head. “I know what you are. I’m not going near water with the likes of you.”

The waterhorse tossed its head. Stamped a foot.

“No,” Sebastian said.

A whicker that sounded sad. Almost a plea.

Not knowing what to make of the demon’s behavior, he looked toward the glint of water—and felt a sick certainty that he already knew what the waterhorse wanted him to see.

He moved blindly toward the water, not even realizing his hand now rested on the waterhorse’s neck. They stopped close to the remains of something dark and bloated that rested on the bank of the large pond. He tried to move closer but couldn’t do it. The waterhorse had used its particular magic to bind his hand to its neck, preventing him from getting too close to the edge of the pond.

Not that he really wanted to get closer. Guardians and Guides, this was a pond, probably fed by small streams. The waterhorses were the creatures to be feared in this landscape. But something had not only killed a waterhorse; it had ripped out great chunks of flesh. Feeding.

The waterhorse’s body quivered as it backed away from the pond, pulling him with it.

No humans would regret the death of a waterhorse. After all, those demons drowned any humans foolish enough to ride them.

But the way that body was ripped up…

How many predators had found their way into the dark landscapes? And where had they come from?

“I…” Sebastian cleared his throat. “I have to get back to the Den. I have to tell the others about this.” He tried to step away from the waterhorse, but his hand was still ensnared in its magic.

It turned its head and studied him. Then it released its hold on his hand. But when Sebastian started walking away from the pond, it blocked his path.

“What do you want?” He was tired, hungry, frustrated, and scared. Oh, yes. He was scared. He didn’t need another demon playing games with him.

The waterhorse tossed its head, then lifted each foot in turn.

Four feet that weren’t tired. Four legs that could run faster than his own.

“You’re offering me a ride?” Sebastian asked.

The waterhorse bobbed its head.

“No tricks? No gallops into deep water to drown me?”

Head shake.

“Why?” He knew the answer before the waterhorse turned its head to look at the pond. They’re scared, too.

He wasn’t used to riding horses, and he mounted with little skill and no grace. The waterhorse didn’t seem to care, and as he felt the tingle of magic ensnare his legs, he acknowledged one advantage to riding this particular mount—unless a waterhorse chose to release its prey, a person couldn’t fall off.

So they raced over the land and splashed through streams until Sebastian saw a cairn. As they passed it, he felt the tingle that meant they’d passed through a border and were now in another landscape.

Borders and boundaries, Glorianna called them. Boundaries separated one kind of landscape from another—or the landscapes controlled by one Landscaper from those controlled by another Landscaper—and could be crossed only by using a bridge. Borders marked the places where similar landscapes belonging to a Landscaper were connected, despite how much physical distance existed between them.

That was the way things worked in Ephemera. A man might not be able to cross a bridge to reach a neighboring village if he didn’t resonate with that particular landscape, but he could cross a border and walk through a village in an entirely different part of the world.

A few minutes later, they were racing along the edge of a cliff Sebastian recognized—just as he recognized the lake. He felt the waterhorse hesitate, no doubt tempted by the combination of deep water and a rider. But it kept to the land instead of looking for a way to scramble down the cliff. Shortly after that, the waterhorse slowed to an ambling walk and stopped at the door of Sebastian’s cottage.