To Cody’s surprise, saying goodbye to his wife while she lay unconscious and entirely unresponsive turned out to be far more difficult than it had ever been when she was alert and mindful. At such times she would always make some little joke to lighten the atmosphere of farewell. This time there was no quip to send him off. It was usually Kelli who would choose the moment for a passionate, parting kiss. This time there was no passion. It was his wife who always had to have the last wave goodbye. This time he was the one in control of the moment. When it came, he did not want to whisper the joke, bestow the kiss, or flash the wave. He did not want to do any of those things, because he didn’t want to leave. Especially after the confrontation that had all but consumed the hospital room several days earlier.
He had no choice in the matter, he knew. If he was going to restore her, he had to follow Oelefse’s orders, and following those orders meant accompanying the older man back to Europe. It meant leaving Kelli behind, not laughing and absorbed in her own research as had been the case on similar previous occasions, but lying in bed motionless and unaware, more helpless than any kitten.
At least she would not be completely alone. After Oelefse had thoroughly vetted the security company’s background and run his own unique brand of surreptitious checks on its staff, Cody hired security personnel to be with Kelli around the clock. Though puzzled, they offered no objections to the strictures the archaeologist and his elderly friend placed on their movements, and on who should be allowed to have contact with the patient. In the absence of a perceiver like Cody himself, this setup was not perfect. But it was better than leaving Kelli exposed and vulnerable to whoever might wander in off the street.
Even when all that could be done had been done and there was nothing left to do, he was reluctant to leave her side. From the doorway, Oelefse’s voice chided him gently.
“We have to go, Cody. You can do nothing for her here.” The older man checked the Patek Phillipe on his wrist. “We will miss our flight.”
“I’m coming.” Rising from the edge of the bed, the distraught archaeologist leaned over to gently press his lips against his wife’s. Each time he did so, he hoped, and each time those hopes were dashed. A sleeping beauty Kelli might be, but it was going to take more than a lover’s kiss to awaken her from the contaminated slumber into which she had fallen.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Westcott.” Seated at the other side of the bed, a middle-aged, balding concrete block of a man put down the novel he had been reading long enough to offer a reassuring smile. The ex-cop’s belly might have gone to flab, but there was nothing wrong with his mind or his reflexes. “My outfit’s used to this kind of work, though we’re usually hired to watch over injured criminals awaiting transport to jail.” He glanced down at Kelli. “Ain’t nobody gonna mess with her while me or one of my buddies is here.”
Cody could only nod. Lately he had been reduced to nodding a great deal. It left him feeling dead in the water, as if he was neither going forward nor retreating but instead had become trapped in time, a fly in molasses reduced to wriggling helplessly in place.
The mere act of turning away from the bed, not knowing when he might see her again, not knowing if she would even be alive by the time he returned, made him feel as if he were trying to move a parked truck with his bare hands.
All the way through the hospital he kept wanting to turn around and go back, convinced he had forgotten something, wanting to hold her in his arms one more time, desperate to brush his mouth across her lips and cheeks and forehead in the event she could sense such contact. Not wanting to leave. Then they were striding through the entrance atrium on their way out of the hospital.
He was compelled to endure more of Oelefse’s driving, but it was a mercifully short ride from the hospital in Scottsdale to the airport. They were not challenged on the way, or subsequent to their arrival. The older man was quick to explain that airports were comparatively secure places, islands of safety in a world alive with Interlopers. Except for the occasional sculpture of wood or stone, everything about them was man-made and therefore unsuitable as a vector for the intruders. Having spent his fair share of time in airports, Cody had always decried their artificiality. Now he embraced it.
It struck him that in agreeing to follow Oelefse’s directives blindly, he had neglected to ask even the most basic questions. Such as . . .
“Where in Europe are we going? Germany, to seek the help of your Society?”
“Close, my young friend, but not quite. What we seek lies near to there. I would make the slight detour to show you our library, to introduce you to my colleagues, but time is precious. That friendship and those books will always be there. It is your wife we must be concerned with now.”
Cody could not have responded better himself. “Where, then?” His elderly companion held their tickets, which he had not seen.
“Have you ever been to Austria?”
Austria! Land of Mozart and pastry, fine crystal and alpine skiing. “No. My work has only taken me to South America, remember.”
“Then this deficiency in your traveling experience is about to be rectified. Though,” Oelefse added somberly, “I am afraid there will be little time to sample the delights of that enchanting country. No whipped cream for us, my young friend. No raisin brot, no sachertorte, no kaiserschmarrm. We go in search of blue leaves.”
“Blue leaves?” A methodical, barely intelligible feminine voice was calling their flight. Hefting his carry-on, Cody trailed his guide closely, not wanting to lose him in the milling crowd.
“Ilecc leaves. Does your wife like tea?”
The flight was full: noisy and busy all the way to New York. From there it was nonstop all the way to Vienna. After overnighting at a hotel connected directly to the airport terminals, Cody once more had to suffer Oelefse’s driving as they made their way northwest to Salzburg.
“Why Salzburg?” As the archaeologist spoke he was staring out the window at the increasingly mountainous Austrian countryside.
“It is an ancient and traditional point of congruency.” As always, both of the German’s hands were firmly affixed to the steering wheel. His eyes never strayed from the road ahead. “There is a rock there. For some reason, large and distinctive rocks are often the loci of such places. It is as if they were buttons, tying together both halves of a sweater. Only in this instance, our rock fastens together two different dimensions of the same world.”
“What happens if the rock gets moved?” Cody inquired only half-jokingly. “Do the two pieces of the world come apart?”
A small smile of amusement creased Oelefse’s face. At such moments he looked, Cody decided, like a mischievous watchmaker who repaired cuckoo clocks during the day while quietly assembling an atom bomb in his basement at night.
“In the case of this particular rock that is not a concern, my friend. You will understand when you see it.”
It was midafternoon when they entered the old city, a gabled knot of steeples and towers and many-windowed stone buildings. The presence of so much stone unnerved Cody, but Oelefse knew ways through the often narrow, shop-lined streets that allowed them to avoid the attention of local Interlopers.
The German was right in his assertion that the rock in question was in no danger of being picked up and moved. The old city ringed it like a necklace, individual buildings set like faceted gemstones at its base. A flat-topped Gibraltar, it dominated the town and the surrounding terrain; a massive, sheer-sided mass of solid gray-white granite hundreds of feet high. Resting atop this majestic monolith and occupying the entire plateau was the enormous and imposing fortress of Hohensalzburg, ancient home of dozens of kings and rulers of this part of the world.
Unknowingly, they had constructed their fortress atop one of the buttons that held together the different dimensions that comprised this corner of reality.
Having parked the car, Oelefse led his awestruck companion up a gentle path that wound like a snake between walls of cut stone and gray stucco, until they reached the base of the natural ziggurat. Twenty to forty feet above the ground, Cody could see where small openings had been hacked out of the naked rock. Some were exposed to the afternoon air while others were covered with heavily weathered grates of iron so dark it was almost black. Still others had steps leading up to them, and were barred with wooden doors.
Noting the direction of his stare, Oelefse anticipated his companion’s questions. “Those are ancient caves, my young friend. For thousands of years they were home to Neolithic hunter-gatherers. Later, they provided shelter for an order of druids dedicated to fighting Those Who Abide.” Tilting his head back slightly, he gestured upward. “This great rock, upon which the fortress is raised, is for some reason yet to be fathomed inhospitable to Interlopers. They do not, and to the best of our knowledge never have, dwelled within. Perhaps instinctively, that is why the castle was begun here. Possibly some court sorcerer recommended the site. We are not sure. For hundreds of years the inaccessible heights offered safety from the depredations of attacking hordes seeking to displace those who lived here in comparative peace.
“Following the druids, the caves were occupied by monks of the Order of Saint Callis. Building upon the knowledge left behind by their druidic predecessors, they too gave battle to the Interlopers for nearly a thousand years. When the Order was dissolved and dispersed by invaders, the survivors regrouped in a river valley to the north.”
“And became the Society,” a marveling Cody finished for him. “Your Society.”
“Yes.” Oelefse nodded solemnly. They were nearing the end of the path and approaching a structure that was built into the rock. “Now we must rest in this sacred place, and have something to eat.”
“Eat?” Cody blinked. “Here?”
“Do you not see the sign?” His guide pointed upward, to the lintel above the doorway they were approaching. “My friend, here in the catacombs district of St. Peter’s Abbey is the oldest continuously operating restaurant in Europe. It was founded by the Society and has been providing rest and sustenance for us, and for other travelers, ever since.”
Cody noted the sign but was unable to read it. As they passed beneath, Oelefse translated for him. “Open since 803.” He smiled slightly. “That is the year, my young friend, not the time of day.”
Inside, once a few whispered words had passed between Oelefse and a waiter, they were directed deep into the establishment, where they took seats in a room lined with vaulted brick. One wall was bare, unworked stone: the naked rock of the granite monolith itself. Somewhere high above their heads the yellow-and-brown patinaed wall of the fortress guarded Hohensalzburg’s impregnable approaches. It was cool and dark and very, very quiet in the chamber. The other half dozen tables, immaculately set, stayed empty. When food finally arrived, Cody knew what it was like to eat a fancy meal in a simple cave.
“This is a special place.” With the grace of a visiting nobleman dining at Versailles, Oelefse cut away small, bite-sized pieces of his schnitzel and placed them fastidiously in his mouth. Watching him, Cody was sure that had one been available, his guide would have preferred the use of a scalpel to an ordinary knife. “Society members have met here and planned strategy against Those Who Abide for thousands of years. For the past millennium we have also dined here, first in caves like this, later in the rooms that have been added onto the exterior of the establishment.” He gestured with his knife.
“Above our heads are millions of tons of solid rock, none of it, insofar as we have been able to determine, ever inhabited by Interlopers. Why this should be so, why they should shun this stone while infesting others like it, we do not know, but from prehistoric times the rock was recognized as one of those rare places that are a part of the natural world that is safe from infestation. It provides advantages for defense, and for study.”
“So there have always been members of the Society active here?” As he spoke, Cody was slathering fresh butter on dark bread.
“Even before there was a Society. Recognizing the uniqueness of the site, one of our more prominent European members, the Archbishop Gebhard, laid the first foundations for the fortress in 1077. It took six hundred years of continuous work to bring it to the condition you now see. Much of the most important work was done by another of our venerable members, Leonhard von Keutschach.
“Recognizing this place as a center of knowledge and resistance, Those Who Abide have made various attempts down through the centuries to destroy it, most notably by influencing those they dominated to gather in sufficient strength to attack. The last such attempt was made by a group of angry farmers.”
“When was that?” Cody inquired over his excellent meal.
“Let me think.” The older man’s brow furrowed. “I believe it was in 1525.”
“So the fortress has been secure since then?” Here was a place where even Kelli could be safe, the archaeologist mused.
“In a sense. The Society abandoned it as no longer necessary to its efforts back in 1861, when all archives and study facilities for this part of the world were consolidated at Heidelberg.” Sitting back, he swept an arm upward to encompass the dark, somber room in which they were dining. “But there are times that demand one or more of us visit here, to make use of the rock’s unique properties.”
“Like providing a home for a plant with blue leaves?”
“Among other things, yes.” Oelefse’s expression fell slightly. “One hopes the ilecc bush may still be accessed here. If all goes well, we will find out tonight.”
Cody frowned. “Why tonight? Why not now?”
“You will see, my young friend. You will see.” Smiling, the older man indicated Cody’s plate. “Finish your meal. You will need your strength.”
The archaeologist assumed he would need at least some of that strength to scale the mountain, but as it developed, very little effort was required. Though it was possible to follow in the footsteps of the thousands who had gone before and climb the steep, winding road that led from the old city to the fortress, Oelefse opted to take the funicular, or inclined railway, that had been bolted to the sheer side of the rock. Designed to convey lazy tourists to the top, it provided a means of ascent that enabled both men to conserve their strength. For what, Cody could only imagine.
Once inside, the magnitude of the fortress astonished him. Exploring it from within was the only way to appreciate its vast extent and the effort that had gone into its construction and expansion. Surrounded by the massive stone walls of the granary, the arsenal, and the extensive living quarters, he could well believe it had taken six hundred years to complete. Now it swarmed with laughing children and their curious parents, doe-eyed honeymooners and picture-snapping foreigners.
“You rarely see anyone acting unhappy or sad up here,” Oelefse remarked. Walking to the edge of a wall, he inhaled deeply of the fresh air as he gazed southward toward distant Heilbronn Palace and the snow-clad Alps beyond. “This is a safe place.” Kneeling, he picked up a handful of grit and let it sift away between his fingers. “Clean stone. Such gateways are vital to our understanding of Those Who Abide, and to our unceasing efforts to wipe them out.”
“Gateways?” Looking around, Cody could see a number of entrances; to the inner keep, to the royal residences, to kitchens and living quarters. They ranged in size from small arched openings blocked by wooden doors to massive double gates bound with iron strapping and nails. “Which one is ours?”
“You cannot see it from here.” Turning away from the spectacular view of the Austrian countryside, Oelefse led his young companion down broad stone steps. “If it was easily accessible, some maintenance worker or tourist might stumble into it. That would like as not prove fatal to the curious.” Seeing the look on the archaeologist’s face he added, “I told you this could be dangerous. If you wish to wait behind, I can go on alone and—”
“We’d argue about the philosophical underpinnings, just like we argue about everything else, but I must remind you that I’d die for Kelli.” Cody regarded his elderly guide without blinking.
“Ja, it is true: There is no logic in love. I would have done the same for my Ingrid, but—she died first. Come.” Holding tight to his briefcase, he led the way northward, against the flow of tourists and other visitors. “We will make ready.”
Preparations consisted of taking the last guided tour of the day. As they were shown the state apartments and fabulous ceramic medieval room heaters and other highlights of the fortress, Cody tried not to become too absorbed in the guide’s talk. The history of the castle was fascinating, but he hadn’t come all this way to play tourist. Halfway through, as they were about to leave the Reckturm, or prison tower, Oelefse gestured for him to hang back. Gradually, the voices of the tour guide and his flock receded into the distance, the murmur of their voices swallowed by their stony surroundings. The two men stood alone in a low, narrow passageway.
Opening his briefcase, Oelefse removed a massive wrought-iron key half the length of his forearm. Inserting this into the coal-black iron lock of an ancient door opposite, he turned it as gently as possible. Metal ratcheted against metal and the door opened at a push.
Entering, the dapper German shut the door behind him and relocked it from the inside. Removing a pair of compact flashlights from his case, he handed one to Cody and switched on its mate. The lights revealed a passageway and stone stairs leading downward. After descending through a couple of corkscrew turns they encountered a second door of far more recent manufacture. The alloyed metal was secured by a pair of electronic locks. When Oelefse keyed in the combination, the barrier slid upward into the ceiling to allow them entry.
Eventually the corridor leveled out. No windows dimpled the ancient stone walls and no light entered from outside. Oelefse halted outside a third door.
“Where are we?” the archaeologist finally felt compelled to ask.
“Inside the mountain, near the center of the fortress and the loci.” The older man pointed upward. “There is a huge old lime tree not far above our heads. No one knows when it was planted, but it still produces excellent limes.”
Cody blinked. “We’re practically in the Alps here and there’s a lime tree growing out of this bare rock?”
“Astonishing, isn’t it? But then, we are standing in an astonishing place.” Glancing around, Oelefse found a stone bench, sat down, and checked his watch.
“It’s just past five o’clock, almost closing time for visitors. Soon Security will begin rousting teenagers from their hidden corners and hustling the romantically inclined in the direction of the road or the funicular. There are certain nights during the year when the fortress is kept open after dark for special celebrations. Tonight is not one of them. We will be able to do what we must without being disturbed.”
“What about after-hours security? Aren’t there watchmen?”
“Only at the main walk-up entrance. There is no other way to reach the castle after dark, unless one is an experienced mountaineer. Scaling the rock in such a fashion is against the law. Of course, that has not prevented people from doing so, but to my knowledge, it has never been attempted at night. Not only would that be exceedingly dangerous, there would be none of the publicity such people seek.” Folding his hands in his lap, he settled himself back against the cold, unyielding wall.
“You mentioned something about loci?” Cody queried him.
“You remember my description of the habitat of the Interlopers as being akin to needles thrust through the aluminum ball that is our world? One such ‘needle’ passes through this rock. Because the great massif is hostile to Those Who Abide, yet so close to our reality, they tend to congregate in its vicinity. Beyond this stone lies a meeting place of our world and theirs.” He checked his watch again. “In the realm of midnight we will have to pass through one more door, and then we will go looking to pick the leaves of the delicate blue ilecc.”
“What do we do until then?” Cody felt the weight of stone, not to mention ages, pressing down upon him.
Oelefse smiled reassuringly. “I have a deck of cards. And a portable chess set. Do you play chess, Cody Westcott?”
“A little. Kelli and I . . .” Choked, he found he could not finish the remembrance.
“Good.” Digging once more through the contents of the briefcase, the German took out a chessboard and began to set up individual pieces. Cody started to help, but was forced to stop.
“What’s that? And that?” He pointed to several pieces whose appearance was confusing.
“The first is a rook, the second a knight.” Having set up his own side, Oelefse began to do the same for his young friend. “Their shapes are not of this reality, but of that which is home to Those Who Abide. You should learn to recognize them.”
“Why? For a couple of games?”
“No.” Playing black, the older man waited for his opponent to make a move. “Because in a few hours you may be seeing the beings upon which these carved pieces are based, and you will want to avoid them.” In the dim glow of their flashlights, his eyes glittered hard and efficient. “They will do worse than try to checkmate you, in a game that is considerably more serious.”
The preoccupied archaeologist was inordinately pleased to win two of the five games they played, though there were a couple of times when he suspected that his opponent was making foolish errors just to keep him in the game. He fully intended to query Oelefse about it, but when the older man abruptly swept the pieces into a waiting box and folded up the board, he forgot all about the trivialities of time-wasting amusements.
“Are you sure you are ready for this, my friend?” No avuncular figure now, Oelefse seemed to have sloughed off thirty years as he faced the door on the far side of the chamber. “You can still wait for me here.”
“Not a chance.” Cody was emphatic. “Whatever lies ahead, whatever getting these leaves entails, I’m with you.”
The older man nodded solemnly. “Keep close, then, and do as I tell you.”
Unlocking the door, he stepped through, waited for Cody to follow, and shut the barrier behind them. They were committed. Keeping his breathing steady, the archaeologist followed the German, their feet tapping on stairs that now wound upward in a wide spiral. Diffuse light began to illuminate the steps and he found he no longer needed the flashlight, which he promptly slipped into a front pocket of his jeans. Spilling straight down into the winding stairwell was the light of a full moon.
Two full moons.
They hung side by side in the night sky, impossibly close together. Gravity ought to have torn them apart, but perhaps gravity did not act here as it did in his reality. Certainly nothing else did, Cody saw as soon as he stepped out of the stairwell and found himself standing on the surface alongside Oelefse.
The fortress, all tens of thousands of tons of it, was gone. For that matter, so was the city of Salzburg that had been dreaming below, and the distant silhouettes of the Alps. In their place was a forest rooted in imagination that sprouted from soil sparkling with tiny crystals.
“This is beautiful.” Reaching out, he touched a single leaf that was longer than he was tall. Dark ripples spread from the tips of his fingers along the length of the leaf, as if he had dipped them in a still pond. He had made contact without truly touching.
“It is also lethal, my young friend.” Eyes as wary as those of an old survivor alley cat, posture alert, Oelefse was turning a slow circle as he examined their immediate surroundings. Behind them, a gaping cavity in the crystal-dusted earth marked the way back to the fortress, back to Salzburg. Back to reality.
In spite of his resolve to be mindful of the older man’s warnings, Cody was overcome by the splendor into which they had emerged. Having expected something entirely different, insofar as he had anticipated anything at all, he was taken aback by the spectral wonderland in which they found themselves. He had been prepared to encounter a landscape by Doré or Breughel or Giger. Instead, he found himself in surroundings that sprang from Rackham and Nielsen. All that was lacking were tiny slips of fairies darting to and fro.
As if on cue, a pair of misshapen pixies materialized and swerved in his direction. Instead of elfin, pre-pubescent bodies draped in glowing gauze, they had flat, dun-colored faces with wide mouths. Their arms were long, hung down well below their bodies, and were tipped with single quills instead of hands. In place of buttocks, bloated abdomens bobbed in the sultry air. They had no eyes and twinkled like bumblebees that had been dipped in glitter. In the dual moonlight, they were figures of myth and magic.
“Get down!”
Something hit Cody from behind, between the shoulders, knocking him to his knees. Reaching forward as he fell, he threw out his open palms to absorb the impact. Where his palms struck the earth, puffs of rainbow-hued dust rose from between reflective blades of crystalline grass. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
Glancing backward, he saw Oelefse assume a kneeling posture. His briefcase lay near his feet, unlatched and open. A device he’d removed from one of its copious pockets was gripped firmly in both hands as he aimed it at the shimmering, oncoming phantasms. It looked like a toy molded from plastic, with brightly colored protrusions emerging from its sides and top and a muzzle that flared wide as a saucer in the style of an old-fashioned blunderbuss. A child’s gun.
“Hey,” Cody started to ask his friend and guide, “is that really neces—?”
Reaching over, Oelefse gave him a hard shove with his left hand, knocking the unsteady Cody onto his side. An instant later, the glittering specter nearest the two men spat something from its flat face. At the end of the long tongue, which gleamed like a neon tube in the moonlight, was a small, barbed ball. It struck a very small, glittering bush behind where Cody had been kneeling. Immediately, the bush collapsed inward upon itself and shrank to the size of a walnut. When the tongue retracted, the shrunken bush was ripped from the ground and sucked down into that featureless, alien face.
Oelefse fired. The exquisite floating deformity blew apart in a shower of colorful sparkles that sifted to the ground like electric snow. A second shot caught the other flyer with its tongue halfway extended in the older man’s direction. When it exploded, it emitted a muffled popping sound, like a water-filled balloon coming apart. Relaxing his arms but with every sense alert, Oelefse turned to check on his companion.
“Are you all right, my friend?”
Shaken, the archaeologist was watching the last twinkling fragments of a misshapen existence filter down to the ground. “What the hell were those?”
“There are almost as many different varieties of Interloper as there are creatures on the face of our Earth. They are a multitude, Cody Westcott, and each one is as dangerous as the next. Anything that moves here, wherever here is, can infest, infect, or contaminate. Look, yes, but touch nothing. In our reality there are also many beautiful things that can kill.” Reaching down, he extended a helping hand.
Waving him off, Cody rose on his own, wiping from his palms dust that sparkled in the moonlight like powdered gemstones. All around him was unimaginable, empyreal beauty. And if Oelefse was to be believed, every inch of it potentially deadly. Even after surviving the attack by the two floating oddities, it was difficult to reconcile so much glistening splendor with implied danger.
Touch nothing? How could he resist caressing the blossoms of translucent pink that burst forth in lacy profusion from the bushes that lined the path they were taking? How could anyone expect him not to push gently against the cascade of shimmering liquid purple that spilled from a crack in crystal-dusted rocks? Oelefse kept a watchful eye on him. As long as the older man did not protest, Cody felt free to sample the tactile delights of the otherness into which they had stepped.
Only once more did his guide interfere physically. The archaeologist had reached out to pluck a nearly transparent, diamond-covered bloom the size of a cabbage from its stalk when Oelefse’s hand clamped with surprising strength on the younger man’s wrist.
Shaking an admonishing finger at the archaeologist, the elderly German used the flared tip of his pistol to gently nudge the blossom’s petals aside. Beneath, crawled half a dozen fat caterpillar shapes. Miniature lightning scrolled down their backs in colorful streaks. When touched by the hard edge of the gun, their heads expanded to ten times their normal size, displaying a ring of inward-facing teeth that looked sharp and brutal. At this unexpected, implicitly deadly flowering, Cody drew back, remembering what Oelefse had said about deadly beauty. It was warning enough. Thereafter, despite a flourish of temptation, he kept his hands to himself and contemplated the surrounding dazzle with eyes alone.
They had long since left the stairwell to reality behind. Cody wondered how Oelefse knew where they were going. There were no paths, nothing to indicate direction, and little that could be used as a landmark. Towering growths would shrink with notable speed into the ground at their approach, only to reappear like launching rockets in their wake. The entire glittering, glistening, shimmering realm was in a state of permanent agitation, as if by remaining too long in one place or form its inhabitants were inviting affliction. The light and color were staggering in their diversity. Oelefse was leading him deeper and deeper into a world composed of reconstituted rainbows, much of it potentially murderous.
A supple figure of winged, flaming green sparks danced past his head. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, and he didn’t dare touch it, or try to capture it in his cupped hands. Oelefse’s admonitions had firmly taken root. In the dimension of Those Who Abide, the archaeologist had learned, beauty packed a nasty bite.